see the last of them. Give me a stand-up fight, not all this dodging and
ducking and worrying about what your sensors aren't showing you."
"Look at the bright side, Maniac," Blair told him.
"There's a bright side?"
"Sure. The bad guys don't like flying through all this space junk any
more than we do."
"Maybe not," Maniac said. "But they can take more risks out there than
we can. After all, they've got nine lives."
Flight Control, TCS Victory Delius System
REPEAT, ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!"
Blair turned in his chair to face a monitor and punched up an intercom
link to the bridge. "This is Blair. What's going down?"
The screen showed Rollins in the foreground, with the running figures
of bridge crewmen hurrying to their posts visible behind him. From somewhere
out of the picture the sensor officer was talking. "I'm reading multiple
contacts, Captain. Eight . . . no, ten capital ships. Four of them are
carriers. Configuration. . . they're Kilrathi, sir. No doubt about it."
Rollins turned to look into the camera. "We've got a mountain of
trouble out there, Colonel," he said "A whole damned cat task force just
popped onto our scopes."
The image in the monitor broke up, replaced by Eisen's heavy, scowling
features. "I'll take it, Lieutenant," he said crisply. "Colonel Blair, we
have four carriers plus escorts incoming. No fighters yet, but you can bet
they'll launch a flock of Сem when they've closed the range."
"That's pretty long odds," Blair said slowly. "Delius Station doesn't
have much firepower."
"Not enough to make a difference," Eisen agreed. "We're breaking orbit
and heading for the nearest jump point. There's no sense in buying it here."
"And our orders? The flight wing?"
"Get ready for a magnum launch, Colonel. Get your birds ready. We may
need them to buy the ship enough time to reach the jump point." Eisen's look
was grim. "Another bug-out, Colonel. I'm sorry, but it looks like you'll be
covering our tails one more time."
"Understood, sir," Blair said.
Eisen had already turned away from the intercom, issuing orders to his
bridge crew. "Navigation! Plot course to the nearest jump point. Helm, break
orbit. Proceed at full thrust. Gunnery. . . be ready to clear a path if the
debris field gets too thick . . ." The intercom went dead.
Blair slapped the red switch that issued the magnum launch alert. A new
alarm shrilled, followed by the computer's public address announcement.
"LAUNCH STATIONS! LAUNCH STATIONS! ALL FLIGHT WING PERSONNEL TO LAUNCH
STATIONS MAGNUM LAUNCH!"
Flight Deck. TCS Victory Delius System
Blair checked his instruments for what seemed like the hundredth time,
knowing that nothing had changed yet feeling compelled to do something.
Every one of Victory's fighters was crewed and ready, even a pair that the
technical staff had down checked as unreliable. Now they were waiting, and
that was an agony worse than any combat situation.
The carrier had opened up a fair lead over the Kilrathi ships, bulling
her way through the asteroid field with weapons blazing to clear away any
chunk of rock big enough to pose a threat to the ship. The Imperial vessels
were more cautious, keeping to a tight formation and lumbering slowly after
Victory as if reluctant to commit themselves to an attack. Perhaps they had
learned to respect the Terrans in earlier clashes . . . or perhaps they
simply regarded it as triumph enough to drive the ship away from Delius
Station, leaving the Terrans there Ч including a small contingent of the
carrier's crew still on liberty Ч completely at the mercy of the Kilrathi
task force.
Blair was starting to hope they might not have to beat off any genuine
attack, but the threat remained. They wouldn't be able to relax their guard
until they made the jump to Tamayo, if then.
"Colonel, sensors are reporting a launch in progress from the lead
Kilrathi carrier." Rollins gave him a welcome distraction, however grim his
news might be. "It's the flagship . . . Hvar'kann. Looks like you'll be
having a party after all.''
"Acknowledged," Blair said. "Flight wing, from Blair. Begin launch
sequence on my mark."
At that moment his comm panel went crazy. The visual display broke up
in a kaleidoscope of patterns and colors, and the speakers in his helmet
squealed and whined. It took several seconds for the noise to fade and the
screen to come back on-line. Blair stared at the monitor, as if it might
give him some clue to what had just happened.
A glowering Kilrathi face filled the screen, a face Blair had seen many
times before.
Thrakhath.
The image jumped and jittered again, then returned. Blair studied it
thoughtfully, wondering what was causing the distortion. Ship to ship video
transmissions used computers to encode and decode messages, and to provide
automatic translations of foreign languages. For the computer to have this
much trouble reconstructing whatever message Thrakhath was broadcasting
meant the signal content must be massive. Evidently, the Kilrathi were
trying to overload Victory's whole comm system and Jam every frequency the
Terrans might be using.
Thrakhath's image began to speak as the computers processed their
translation of the Kilrathi language. I have heard of your Terran Bible with
its predictions that there will be a weeping and gnashing of teeth. These
the Imperial Race will soon fulfill. We will tear out your tongues, we will
scoop out your brains. You will learn to beg for the release of death."
Blair tried to switch to a different comm channel, but Thrakhath's
hissing, taunting image remained on the screen. "You will be prime examples
to the other races in the galaxy, you clownish baboons. Your race will
suffer a thousand torments and more. And do not think that the presence of
the Heart of the Tiger among you can make a difference. Colonel Blair will
be reduced to a pile of entrails, his bones will be gnawed by our young."
Hearing himself referred to directly made Blair stiffen. It wasn't
often that the Kilrathi chose to grant a name to one of their human
adversaries . . . and it inevitably meant that the individual they chose to
"honor" had become the prime target of a Kilrathi challenge.
"Heart of the Tiger, you shall pay for the blood of every Kilrathi
noble you have dispatched in baffle. They shall make songs of your death, of
the failure and disgrace you shall know even before your death. Already you
have failed, Heart of the Tiger, failed at Locanda Four, failed at Ariel . .
. failed your lair-mate, the one known as Devereaux, the Angel."
Blair gasped as the image of Thrakhath on his monitor blacked out, only
to be replaced by a new scene. . . .
A scene from hell.
It was a large room, red-lit, dark, with ornate fittings and
decorations more suggested than seen among the shadows. A throng of Kilrathi
in garb Blair recognized as that of the high nobility were gathered in the
middle of the open chamber, bowing low as Thrakhath and an aged Kilrathi,
the Emperor himself, entered. As the Emperor sat on the imposing throne,
Blair became aware of movement in the shadows on either side of the two
figures. It was difficult to judge exactly what was happening, but when he
finally realized what he was witnessing, he wished he had not.
There were Terrans along the wall behind the throne men and women
hanging in chains, their Confed-issue flight suits in rags. Bulky Kilrathi
guards carrying nerve-prods moved among them, striking out almost at random,
eliciting cries and moans from their victims.
"Once again an enemy threat to our very homeworld has been thwarted,"
the Emperor intoned solemnly. "This puny contingent of their soldiers was
captured aboard a hijacked Imperial transport in orbit around Kilrah
itself."
There was a scattering of calls from the assembled nobles Ч shock,
anger, hatred plain in their voices and bearing. The Emperor silenced them
with a curt gesture and gave Thrakhath a sign to speak.
"This incursion was an act of desperation," the prince said, showing
his fangs. His arms made encompassing gestures toward the victims behind the
throne. "Look at these pathetic hairless apes. They have failed their race
utterly."
A growling cheer rose from the crowd.
"Do what you will with them," the Emperor said.
Red light glimmered off Thrakhath's fangs. "There will be no
interrogation for these pitiful apes . . . and no warrior's death. They are
offal, fit only for death." The Prince waved a dismissive hand. "Only one
among them is worthy of being treated as a warrior. Their leader . . . the
one they call . . . Angel."
Blair wanted to look away as a pair of burly Kilrathi warriors
half-pushed, half-dragged a familiar petite figure into the middle of the
throne room directly in front of Thrakhath. Like the other Terrans, she had
been tortured, her flight suit reduced to tattered ruin, the face that
haunted Blair's dreams bruised. There was dried blood on her forehead, a
livid welt on one cheek, but she wore her defiance like a shield. Whatever
the Kilrathi had done to her, Jeannette Devereaux's spirit remained as fiery
and determined as ever.
At the sight of the woman, the Kilrathi nobles grew more agitated.
Blair recognized the bloodlust in their eyes, in the way they bared claws
and fangs as they jeered the captive. Only the sheer force of Thrakhath's
personality held them at bay as he stepped down from the dais to inspect
Angel more closely.
"Still defiant, Colonel Devereaux?" the prince asked. "You should know
by now it is a pathetic and useless gesture. The hunt has nearly run its
course, and your race is prey beneath our claws."
"You bore me, monsieur, she told him, mustering a faint smile. "I would
prefer to join my comrades, rather than listen to more of your boasting."
"You will not join them, Colonel," Thrakhath said. "Your fate shall be
different."
Angel replied by spitting in his face. There were hisses and jeers from
the crowd, a harsh growl from Thrakhath's throat. He turned to address his
nobles.
"The human cannot appreciate the honor I bestow upon her. She is not
only a great warrior, but her lair-mate is the one known as the Heart of the
Tiger." He turned back to her; his eyes narrowed in a deadly stare. The
cries of the Kilrathi reached a bloodthirsty crescendo. "You have slain many
fine warriors during your career You have earned this honor."
The prince unsheathed his claws. With a single thrust he jabbed them
deep into her stomach and lifted her off the ground, high into the air.
Blood flowed freely from the wound. The view on the screen caught her face
in close-up as the life drained from her eyes. Blair thought he saw a final
look of appeal there, as if she was crying out to him for rescue . . . or
for vengeance.
Then the prince released her, and her lifeless body crumpled to the
ground.
Thrakhath's image filled the screen again. "Come, Heart of the Tiger,"
he said. "I am leading; my warriors into battle today. If you would live up
to the honor your lair-mate earned, come and fight. Or be shown for the
pathetic coward you are."
Christopher Blair stared at the screen, his mind a whirl of anger and
pain and hate. At that moment, all he wanted to do was kill. . . .
Bridge, TCS Victory Delius System
"Can't you shut the damned thing off, Lieutenant?" Eisen demanded. On
his communications screen, Thrakhath's feral features continued to glare
hatred and challenge. The message was starting all over again.
"I'm trying, sir," Rollins answered. "But it's not an ordinary
transmission. Damn thing's got the whole comm system tied in knots. Hold on
a minute . . . I think I can kick in a backup system . . . everybody cross
your fingers!"
The communications officer entered a code sequence on his board, and a
moment later the Kilrathi message broke up into static. A few seconds later
Eisen's screen was back to normal, the green light shining above it
indicating the system was ready to use.
"Thank you, Mr. Rollins," Eisen said. "Ensign Dumont, get me an updated
sensor reading. What are those bastards doing out there? Oh . . . and
Rollins, put me through to Colonel Blair."
"On the line, sir."
Blair's head appeared on the monitor. Even though his flight helmet
faceplate hid Blairs features, Eisen thought he looked pale and stricken.
There was no mistaking the barely-suppressed snarl in his voice. "Ready to
launch, Captain," he said.
"Not so fast, Colonel," Eisen told him. СWe're still trying to get a
picture of what the cats are doing. The ship s less than fifteen minutes
from the jump point, and we might make it yet without having to launch."
"If they've got fighters out, sir, you'll have to put us out there to
hold them off," Blair replied. "At least for a little while."
"Look, Colonel . . ." Eisen trailed off. He didn't know what to say to
the man, after Thrakhath's message. "Maybe you ought to sit this one out,
Blair. Let Hobbes take over."
"No, sir," Blair said curtly.
"Is that the Wing Commander talking . . . or a man who's looking for
revenge?"
"Both, sir," Blair answered. He was silent for a moment before going
on. "Look, Captain, I won't pretend. . . that bastard got me where I live,
using Angel like that. He's trying to goad me into doing something stupid.
And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to oblige him . . . bad. Real bad.
But in this case, playing along with his little game is our best option. As
long as Thrakhath figures I'm going to take him up on his challenge, the
rest of his fighters will hold back. Nobody's going to get into the middle
of the Crown Prince's blood feud."
"I don't like it," Eisen said. "I've never thought this Thrakhath was
very well-equipped in the honor department, however much the cats make of
it. What do you say, Colonel Ralgha? You know more about the Prince than any
of us."
Hobbes was slow to answer, and when he did his voice sounded blurred,
distant. "I could not . . . say for sure. The message was intended to . . .
provoke a response. But the challenge could well be legitimate. If Colonel
Blair has been honored with his own warrior's name then the Prince must
consider him to be important somehow."
Blair's voice betrayed a sudden concern. "You all right, buddy? What's
wrong?"
"A . . . headache," Hobbes said slowly. "Some of the higher-pitched
harmonics in the message were . . . grating. "He paused. "And, of course, I
mourn for Colonel Devereaux. She was a brave warrior. And a friend."
"That she was," Blair said. "Captain, what about it? Do we get out
there and buy you some time?"
"I don't like it, Blair. But I don't have a whole lot of options."
Eisen paused as the Sensor Officer displayed new data on the main bridge
monitor. "We definitely have a launch in progress from the Kilrathi
flagship. So far they're still forming up. No way to tell if they plan to
press something, or if they're just threatening. Looks like . . . at least a
squadron already. More likely two, if they're still launching."
"Then we'd better get out there," Blair said. He cut the connection
without awaiting a reply.
Eisen leaned forward in his chair. "God go with you, Colonel," he said
softly.
Flight Deck. KIS Hvar'kann Delius System
"Lord Prince, surely you do not need to take personal command today.
The cockpit of a fighter is no place for the Imperial Heir when the battle
is so insignificant."
Thrakhath paused halfway up the ladder to the cockpit of his Bloodfang
and turned to glare his contempt down on Melek. "I have issued the
challenge. Would you have me hold back now, in front of our warriors?"
"No, Lord Prince. . ." Melek trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "But
if something was to happen to you now, with triumph so close under our
talons, we would lose everything we have worked to achieve. The personal
challenge was a risk you did not need to take. Others would have willingly
taken on the Heart of the Tiger for you."
"No! We want to cut this ape out of his troop, and for that he must be
goaded beyond all reason. I killed his lair-mate. He will not turn back from
the chance to kill me in return. And then . . . we have him."
"He is a skilled pilot, Lord Prince," Melek warned.
"I know it well." Thrakhath showed his fangs. "I am not a fool, Melek.
Honor requires me to be present for the challenge, but it doesn't require me
to sacrifice myself. My escorts will intervene if the need arises. But the
important thing is to eliminate this Colonel Blair now so that he does not
stand in the way of our plans for the Behemoth Go now. You command in my
absence. Let the hunt begin!"
Thunderbolt 300 Delius System
Blair's fighter leapt from the end of the launch tube into the void,
building thrust as he steered toward the rest of Gold Squadron assembling
beyond the stern of the Victory. It required all of his will to stay focused
on his instruments, the sensor screen, and the battle ahead. He couldn't
afford to let himself dwell on Angel.
"Thunderbolt three-zero-zero, under power," he reported. "Gold Squadron
deployed and ready."
"You sure we shouldn't; let Whittaker's boys and girls give you a hand
out there, Colonel?" The duty Flight Control Officer, Lieutenant Rashad,
sounded worried.
"Keep them on stand-by, Lieutenant," Blair said. "I'll let you know if
we need them."
It was the same problem encountered at Ariel. With the carrier heading
for the jump point, too many fighters in space would only complicate their
escape. Blair overruled the original call for a magnum launch, preferring to
put out the eight fighters of Gold Squadron and hold the others in reserve
in case they were needed. But he didn't intend to need them, not today. All
the Terrans needed to do at the moment was keep the Kilrathi distracted
until the carrier was ready to jump.
So far, the cats were cooperating quite nicely. Their fighters were
maintaining a tight formation well out of range of the carrier's guns. None
showed any desire to venture close enough to threaten the Terran vessel.
"Eight minutes," Rollins' voice informed them.
"What are they waiting for?" Flash complained.
"Maybe they're scared of you, kid," Maniac responded.
"Cut the chatter, people," Blair growled. He was feeling as impatient
as Dillon. If only Thrakhath would put his fighter in Blair's crosshairs . .
.
"Does the Heart of the Tiger hide among the other apes?" Thrakhath's
mocking voice filled his helmet speakers. "And under the guns of his ship?
The challenge was to meet in personal combat."
On his screens, he saw a Vaktoth accelerate away from the other
Kilrathi ships, but it stayed well clear of Victory. For a moment Blair
toyed with the idea of ordering the squadron to attack, but he knew the
Kilrathi would he on their guard against such a move. The name of the game,
for now at least, was to keep from letting a full-scale battle develop for
as long as possible.
Thrakhath must have realized the same thing, for a few seconds later a
pair of Vaktoth broke formation followed by two more. These streaked toward
the carrier. Gold Squadron lay directly in their path.
"Here they come!" Cobra called. "Permission to engage?"
"Let them come to us," Blair ordered Wingmen, stick close to your
partners."
The first two Vaktoth drove into the center of the Terran formation
then rolled outward, opening fire with guns and missiles. Cobra and her
wingman, Vaquero, went after the first one, while Maniac and Vagabond
engaged the second. Blair watched the second pair of fighters and felt his
pulse race. "Hobbes, you and Flash take the one on the left," he said.
"Flint and I'll take the other guy."
"Understood," was Ralgha's reply. He still sounded distracted. Flash
gave a whoop and kicked in his afterburners, racing to meet the oncoming
fighter.
Blair couldn't spend any more time worrying about the others. The
fourth Vaktoth was almost on them, concentrating fire against Flint's
Thunderbolt. Blair turned sharply and accelerated, opening fire with his
blasters, while Flint banked sharply left to try to keep her weakened
port-side shields from taking any more damage.
The Vaktoth pilot was good. He maintained his fire on Flint, randomly
altering vectors to dodge most of Blair's fire while he kept up the pressure
on his original target. Blair gave a curse and locked a heat-seeker on the
Vaktoth's tail, then followed the missile with his blasters, pouring out all
the power his weapons system could muster. The shield collapsed, and blaster
fire tore into the armor until the power cut out, recharging.
His opponent seemed to realize then that Blair represented too great a
threat to ignore any longer. He started turning away from Flint to bring his
weapons to bear and to cover his exposed rear, but as he turned, Flint took
the opening without hesitation. Her blasters continued where Blair's ended,
and a moment later the Vaktoth exploded in a thousand whirling fragments.
"Nice shooting, Lieutenant," Blair called. "Good to have you back on my
wing."
"Its where I belong Colonel," she replied.
"Somebody get this bastard off me! Hobbes! Colonel!" Flash's voice was
hoarse with panic. "I can't shake him!"
On his scanner, Blair saw Flash trying to break away from the Vaktoth
he challenged, but the enemy pilot was right on his tail. Hobbes was closing
in, but slowly, cautiously, as if the Kilrathi renegade was afraid of
getting too close to the dogfighting pair. Blair banked the Thunderbolt,
increasing his speed, but he knew he wouldn't be able to reach Flash in time
to do any good.
Hobbes took up a position behind the enemy fighter and opened fire, but
his first shots went wild. The Vaktoth unleashed another attack. This time a
deadly hail of energy bolts and missiles rained on Flash's ship as the young
pilot tried to turn out of the Vaktoth's line of fire.
He was too late. Blair heard him scream as a fireball consumed his
craft.
Once again Hobbes fired, but this time his opponent rolled sideways and
accelerated back toward the rest of the Kilrathi formation. More Vaktoth
were on their way.
"Five minutes to Jump Sequence start," Rollins announced. "Captain
wants to know if we should launch additional fighters?"
"Negative," Blair grated. His sensors showed that the other two Vaktoth
from the first flight had both been destroyed. The Terran fighters were
regrouping again, ready to meet the next threat. "Hobbes, without a wingman
you'll be a sitting duck. Retreat to the carrier and land."
"I should remain, my friend."
For a moment Blair considered having the Kilrathi switch positions with
one of the other pilots, someone less steady, less reliable. Flint, or
Vaquero, or perhaps Maniac. But the way Hobbes had been handling himself
today, he was no more reliable than any of them. Even Marshall seemed to
have himself under control, but Ralgha was plainly off his game. And Flash
had paid the price. "No, Hobbes. Pack it in. That's an order."
"As you command." Ralgha's Thunderbolt broke away and headed toward the
carrier. Now there were only six Terran fighters to face the next wave of
Kilrathi.
This time four Imperial craft came at once, holding a tight formation
all the way. Blair waited until they were just outside of weapons range
before ordering Gold Squadron to turn from the oncoming Vaktoth and go to
afterburners. The Kilrathi gave chase.
"Maintain course," Blair said quietly. It was almost a mantra.
"Maintain course . . . Break! Break and attack! Victory, pour it on!"
The Terran fighters split up, each pair of wingmen peeling off in a
different direction and looping back toward the pursuing Kilrathi. At the
same time, Victory's defensive batteries opened fire, filling the void with
searing bursts of raw energy. A pair of hits took out one of the enemy ships
in the blink of an eye, and another suffered heavy damage as it tried to
dodge the carrier's beams and pursue Cobra. Vaquero, on her wing, finished
the attacker off with a well-placed missile.
Maniac dove straight towards his target, all guns blazing, passing bare
meters away from his opponent before the Kilrathi pilot could even react.
Slowly, carefully, Vagabond trailed him, and his blasters exploited the
weakened shields to burn through the fighter's cockpit and kill the pilot.
The Vaktoth plunged on, uncontrolled, until Victory destroyed it a few
seconds later.
Meanwhile, Flint and Blair split and circled the last Imperial fighter
from opposite sides, hammering the hull with blasters as they sped past. As
a parting shot, Blair dropped a fire-and-forget missile. It hit the
Vaktoth's starboard wing moments later. The explosion didn't destroy the
enemy craft, but it was visibly damaged as it turned and ran, trailing
debris and leaking atmosphere. Maniac caught the fighter as it tried to flee
and finished it with a few well-placed blaster shots.
"Three minutes," Rollins said.
Blair studied his scanners. The Kilrathi fighters were still out there,
but the countdown was getting close enough that he had to start thinking
about getting the rest of the squadron on board. Anyway, the Imperial ships
wouldn't be inclined to cut things too fine by staging an attack now. The
energy discharge of a carrier going into jump could do terrible damage to
fighters close enough to be caught by the creation of the Transition Field.
"Take them in, people," he ordered "Maniac, Vagabond, you two first.
Don't miss the first approach. You might not get another one. Cobra and
Vaquero, you go as soon as they're clear. Flint, you're with me."
No one argued, though he thought he heard Maniac muttering a protest.
The first two Thunderbolts peeled off and headed back for the carrier; the
second two followed, but more slowly, to give Marshall and Chang time to set
down and clear the flight deck. Time passed with agonizing slowness, with no
further moves from the Kilrathi. But Blair was tense. He was sure Thrakhath
wouldn't let them leave without some kind of final shot.
"Two minutes," Rollins announced at length. "Maniac and Vagabond are
aboard. Vaquero's in the beam now."
"You're up, Flint," he said. "Take her inside."
"Don't be slow following me, Colonel," she responded. "I'm getting too
used to flying on your wing."
She left him, and Blair started a quick checklist for his own approach
and landing. It was starting to look like Thrakhath wasn't planning a last
push after all . . .
"Jump Sequence start in ninety seconds," Rollins said. "Better bring
her in now, Colonel."
As he started to turn, Thrakhath's voice boomed loud in his speakers.
"So, I was right, ape. In the end you do run. You did not meet my challenge.
. . Even your lair-mate showed more courage, facing death."
"Seventy-five seconds, Colonel."
Blair tried to shut Thrakhath's words out of his mind, but the
Kilrathi's mocking voice went on. "We misnamed you, perhaps, in calling you
the Heart of the Tiger. You are weak. . . a coward. . . a failure. Not
worthy of your lair-mate at all." The Kilrathi's voice took on a harsher
edge now. "I enjoyed the feel of her blood running over my hands, Terran. As
I enjoyed the taste of her flesh, in the victory feast."
The words hammered at him on a level below conscious thought, and blind
rage threatened to claim him. The carrier was looming large ahead of his
fighter, but Blair hardly saw it through the red haze that clouded his eyes.
He wanted to turn around, accept the Kilrathi's challenge, batter through
Thrakhath's defenses and silence his taunts once and for all. That thing,
that animal, had killed Angel and served her up at one of the barbaric
Kilrathi ritual feasts.
"Almost in the beams, Colonel." Rollins said. "Keep her steady . . .
steady . . . Reduce your speed! If you don't cut your speed you'll
overshoot!"
"For Gods sake, skipper, don't let him get to you!" That was Flint's
voice. "If you take his challenge, you're stuck out there! Thrakhath'll wait
. . . you'll get another chance at him!"
The words penetrated his fog, and Blair killed his forward momentum
with a hard braking thrust, like a kick from a horse. Almost sobbing, he
stabbed at the landing gear controls as the beams took hold. Slowly gently,
the fighter dropped toward the deck and touched down.
He hardly noticed as the fighter was drawn into the hangar area. A pair
of spacesuited figures released his cockpit, urging him to get out even
before gravity or pressure were restored, and Blair neither helped nor
resisted them. They guided him across the open space in long, low-G bounds.
Pressure was restored as they reached the door, and one of them-Blair
vaguely realized it was Flint, still clad in flight suit and combat helmet Ч
helped him remove his own helmet as they guided him into the corridor. His
other helper fumbled with helmet releases and finally freed the bulky
headgear. It was Rachel Coriolis.
"JUMP SEQUENCE ENGAGED, the computer announced blandly. ONE MINUTE TO
JUMP."
"You gave us a scare, skipper," Rachel said. "Thought you were gonna
pull a bolter and miss the landing."
"I should have," Blair said. "I should have stayed out there and nailed
that damned furball."
"That's exactly what he wanted," Flint told him. "If you had let him
draw you into a fight, you'd never have made it back before we jumped. I
thought you were the one who never let it get to you? Isn't that what you
said when you were chewing me out?"
He looked at her and slowly shook his head. "Maybe so. And maybe I was
wrong when I said it." Blair looked away. "I guess I'll never know, now.
Blair brushed away their offered help as the elevator doors opened and
he stepped into the cab. They followed, but he ignored them both, staring
rigidly ahead at the keypad controls, unwilling to talk. Inside he felt
drained, empty of everything except the knowledge that he had failed.
The knowledge that Angel remained unavenged.
Flight Deck, KIS Hvar'kann Delius System
An honor guard greeted Thrakhath as he disembarked from his fighter,
but he ignored them all in his anger. He glared as Melek approached, bowing.
"Lord Prince, the Terran carrier has jumped. The captain of the
Toor'vaas reports that the asteroid base has been breached, and Assault
Marines are penetrating the station. There is no sign of further resistance
anywhere."
Thrakhath gave him a dismissive gesture. "I expected none," he said,
not bothering to hide the angry growl in his voice. "See to it there are no
apes left alive once their base has been secured."
"But, Lord Prince, there will be many suitable slaves there." Melek
looked shocked. "Surely you would not deny the Clans their right to take
back captives Ч "
"No survivors, I said!" Thrakhath snapped.
Melek stepped back as if physically stricken. "As you wish, Lord
Prince," he said, bowing again.
"We have been at war with these apes for more than a generation, Melek.
But I still cannot understand them. How could any sentient creature, however
lacking in honor, fail to respond to a chance for vengeance?" Thrakhath
studied his retainer for a long moment. "You are sure that this Blair was
truly lair-mate to the one we killed?"
"Intelligence reports claimed so, Lord Prince. Based on many
interrogations of captured human pilots. The knowledge was evidently widely
known in their warrior community."
Thrakhath took a moment to chain his anger and speak calmly, as
befitted a Prince. "Clearly the animal humans are even less civilized than
we thought. They do not even respect their lair-mates enough to fight for
them." He paused. "But even if the Heart of the Tiger survives, the rest of
the plan shall move forward. He cannot deflect the fate that pursues the
Terrans now.
"Yes, Lord Prince."
"Order a carrier to follow the Terran ship, but wait until it has had
time to get well clear of the jump point before sending it Sar'hrai would be
a good choice. Give his new captain a chance to prove his worth. They are to
mount a close surveillance on the enemy carrier, using stealth craft. When
our agent makes his move, we must be ready." Thrakhath showed his fangs for
a moment. "Our claws are at their throats, Melek. They will not escape the
hunt."
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Tamayo System
Once again the flight deck was crowded with officers and crewmen
gathered to bid farewell to one of their own. The neat ranks of pilots,
technicians, and ship's crew . . . the honor guard with weapons held in a
stiff rifle salute . . . the chaplain's service, and the empty coffin
waiting by the launch tube Ч only the names changed, but never the trappings
or the emotion.
Christopher Blair slowly stepped forward to the temporary podium. He
never relished this duty, but today he hated everything about it.
"Major Jace Dillon was a reluctant warrior in the Confederation's
battle against the Empire," Blair said slowly. He raised his eyes to study
the front ranks, especially the pilots of Gold Squadron. For a fleeting
moment he wondered what Ralgha was thinking. Did the Kilrathi renegade
regret letting the young Terran pilot down in that last battle? Hobbes had
certainly been withdrawn ever since. It was a feeling Blair understood
entirely. "Nevertheless, Flash never turned back when the going got tough.
He more than made up for his youth and inexperience by flying with vigor and
courage, and he died carrying the fight to the enemy."
As he stepped back to allow the chaplain to advance and carry on with
the funeral ceremony, Blair's eyes rested on the lone coffin. He wished he
could have said a few words about Angel, but it would have been out of place
here. Still, it wasn't Flash he was thinking about as the coffin accelerated
out of the hangar deck, or as the honor guard fired their low-powered
volleys. And when he bowed his head to offer up a prayer, it was Angel
Devereaux who was foremost in his mind.
Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory Tamayo System
Blair sat alone at a table by the viewport, staring down into his empty
glass as if it was a crystal ball that might give him a glimpse of another
time and place. He was hardly aware of his surroundings, the other pilots
and crewmen who talked, laughed and carried on with their lives, with only
an occasional glance at the solitary, withdrawn figure of their wing
commander.
A shadow fell across the table, and he looked into the knowing eyes of
Rachel Coriolis. She put a bottle down on the table beside him. "You look
like you could use a little more anesthetic," she said softly.
He poured a shot and drank, wincing a little at the bite of the cheap
liquor in his mouth and throat. Rachel studied him for a moment, as if
waiting for him to speak. Instead he refilled the glass and held it,
watching the reflections dance in the amber liquid.
"Thrakhath really got to you, didn't he?" Rachel asked. "He knew all
the right buttons to push."
Still Blair didn't answer. He took a longer, slower sip, then looked up
at Rachel.
"I know how you feel, Colonel," she said, even softer this time. "I
know what it's like, losing someone to this damned war." She hesitated a
moment. "Do you want company? Or is the bottle enough?"
Those words got through his defenses at last. He looked from Rachel to
the bottle, then back at her again. "Company? Yeah." He pushed the bottle
away. "Yeah, I guess talking is better than drinking, but it isn't easy."
She settled into the chair across from him. "No, it isn't. But you
can't run away from people, and you can't take refuge in getting drunk.
Those things just postpone the inevitable."
"I knew, deep down, that she might not be coming back," he said slowly.
"I was afraid she was dead. I had nightmares about it. But seeing it like
that . . . and having that bastard gloating about it . . ."
"Well, kick in a bulkhead or something. Get it out somehow, okay? Don't
wait until you're back in the cockpit again. If you try to take it out on
the cats Ч look, I've been through that already, with somebody I cared about
very much. I wouldn't want to go through it again."
He met her eyes. "Somebody you cared about, . . I hope you're not
thinking. . . ."
Rachel looked away. "I know better than to put the moves on somebody
who's just had a kick like the one you've had," she said. "Let's just say .
. . Let's just say you're a man I could care about . . . if there was
nothing else holding you. And I wouldn't want to see you throw your life
away, no matter what."
"I'm a dangerous man to be around, Rachel," he told her. "My friends,
my shipmates . . . Angel . . . they keep leaving on the last flight without
me. If you're smart, you'll give me a wide berth."
"Nobody's ever accused me of being smart," she said with a ghost of a
smile. "And I think it's better to take your chances than to steer clear of
. . . a friend."
Wing Commander's Office, TCS Victory Torgo System
"All right, last item on the list," Blair said, ticking off another
point on his personal data display. "Captain says we re due for a visit from
some VIPs tomorrow. Thirteen hundred hours. We need to police the flight
deck and hangar areas and try to get them somewhere approaching shipshape.
Maniac, I'm putting you in charge of that detail."
Marshall looked up. "Me? When did I become the maid around here?"
Whittaker, Mbuto, and Captain Betz, the acting CO of Green Squadron,
all chuckled. Ralgha. sitting in the corner of the office away from the
others around the desk, studied his claws with an expression resembling
boredom.
"Just do it, Maniac. We want to make a good impression. Now that we're
back at Sector HQ, we have to pretend we're in the Navy instead of playing
at being the pirate scum of the galaxy." Blair looked around the office.
"Anybody have anything else to talk about?"
No one spoke, and Blair nodded sharply. "That'll be all, then." He
stood up when the others did and watched them file through the door. Hobbes
was the last to leave and Blair intercepted him. "Anything on your mind
buddy? You've been pretty quiet, the last few days."
Ralgha shook his head ponderously. "Nothing of importance," he rumbled.
"Look, if you're upset at getting sent in after Flash bought it . . ."
"I am not," the Kilrathi said. He fixed Blair with a look the human
couldn't easily fathom. СWe have been friends for many years, you and I.
Faced many things together. But just as you have trouble sharing your pain
over Angel, I have . . . feelings I find hard to share now."
"Losing her hit you pretty hard, too, didn't it?"
The Kilrathi didn t speak for a long moment. "I fear that humans . . .
have rarely been my friends. She was one of the few. I . . . regret her
passing. And what it may lead to." He was watching Blair closely.
"If you're worried about me, don't," Blair said. "I had a long talk
with myself the other day, after Flash's funeral. Somebody reminded me that
I've got responsibilities I can't afford to let go of just because I'm
hurting over her. So I won't do anything stupid."
The Kilrathi gave a very human shrug. "Your species is resilient," he
said. "But. . . Colonel Devereaux's death may not be the worst thing we will
see, before the end."
"I know what you mean, buddy," Blair told him. "Look you get some rest.
I think this whole mess has been about as rough on you as it's been on me."
He clapped Hobbes on the shoulder. "If it helps any, I want you to know that
I think she d be proud, knowing you thought of her as a friend."
Before Ralgha could answer, the door buzzed, and Blair opened it.
Rollins stood outside, with Cobra behind him. She gave Hobbes a disdainful
look as he passed them, then followed Rollins into the office.
"What can I do for you two?" Blair asked, gesturing to the chairs by
the desk and resuming his own seat.
"Colonel, we've been talking," Cobra said. "About Thrakhath's
broadcast, before the battle at Delius."
Blair frowned. "What about it?"
"We're puzzled, Colonel," Rollins said. "The whole thing was pretty
strange, by my way of thinking. All that effort to issue a challenge to you,
and then . . . well, not much of a follow-up. I mean, he did his best to
sucker you into a dogfight, but think of how poorly they handled the whole
op. They gave us plenty of warning they were coming, and let us get all the
way to the jump point before they put on much of an attack. Then that
signal, and some bluster and threats. It doesn't add up."
"Hmmm . . ." Blair nodded slowly. "You're right. It's almost as if they
wanted me, but they didn't care about the ship. If they'd come in with
everything blazing while we were still at Delius station they could've had
Victory for breakfast . . . and me with it. You think they wanted the ship
to get away? Bad enough to let me go despite Thrakhath s challenge?"
"It could be, Colonel," Rollins said.
"The question is, why?"
Cobra leaned forward in her seat. "Colonel, there's something else that
could be important here. I don't know what it was for sure, but there was
something . . . familiar about that transmission."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She shrugged. "I can't put it into words, sir. It wasn't anything I
heard. . . or saw. I just had a sense of. . . something. Something familiar.
It . . . it gave me a headache, when I was watching it."
"Hobbes said something similar," Blair mused. СRollins, can you shed
any light on it?"
"Beats the hell out of me, Colonel," the communications officer said.
"I want to run some checks on the recordings we made. That wasn't just an
ordinary audio/video signal, you know. It was a broad-spectrum transmission
that had damn near every channel blocked. At first I thought they were just
trying to jam us so our comm system would crash. But it was like the whole
attack. In the end, they just weren't trying very much. Otherwise they
would've kept the jamming up during the battle. But I have to say this . . .
if all they were trying to do was get you upset with their challenge and. .
. all the rest. . . well, it was overkill. Pure and simple."
Cobra bit her lip. "Sir, I know we've had our differences, and I know
what you told me about accusations. About wanting proof. . . and I don't
have any. But I have to say this anyway, even if you're going to throw me in
the brig over it. I think there could have been some kind of hidden signal
in all that junk. To a Kilrathi agent."
"You're talking about Hobbes, of course," Blair said, frowning.
"Lieutenant . . ."
"I didn't say it was Hobbes, sir," Cobra said. "But we know the cats
have agents in the Confederation."
Rollins cleared his throat. "Colonel, I think you should hear her out
on this. It would explain a lot, if the cats had an agent aboard."
"Like how they keep throwing us softballs in tight corners," Buckley
amplified. "Letting us get away at Delius. Ariel, too, if you think about
it. They could make jump points disappear, but the second one stayed open
for us. And it wasn't defended, either."
Blair looked from one to the other. "It still isn't proof of anything
except the fact that both of you have active imaginations," he said at last.
"You know where I stand. I don't like having accusations leveled at Hobbes,
and all you've really got here is a conspiracy theory." He looked down at
his desk. "It's a very serious charge to make . . ."
"Hell, Colonel, I'm not saying it is Hobbes," Cobra told him. "I mean,
he's a Kilrathi, and you know how I feel about him, but I know this doesn't
prove anything." She Laughed, a short, bitter, humorless sound. "For all I
know, Colonel, you're the Kilrathi spy. You love the cats . . . a cat, at
least, and you were in command when things went sour at Locanda Four. All
I'm saying is that it would explain some pretty strange shit. I think we
have to consider it."
"All right, Lieutenant. I'll consider it." Blair leaned back in his
ducking and worrying about what your sensors aren't showing you."
"Look at the bright side, Maniac," Blair told him.
"There's a bright side?"
"Sure. The bad guys don't like flying through all this space junk any
more than we do."
"Maybe not," Maniac said. "But they can take more risks out there than
we can. After all, they've got nine lives."
Flight Control, TCS Victory Delius System
REPEAT, ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!"
Blair turned in his chair to face a monitor and punched up an intercom
link to the bridge. "This is Blair. What's going down?"
The screen showed Rollins in the foreground, with the running figures
of bridge crewmen hurrying to their posts visible behind him. From somewhere
out of the picture the sensor officer was talking. "I'm reading multiple
contacts, Captain. Eight . . . no, ten capital ships. Four of them are
carriers. Configuration. . . they're Kilrathi, sir. No doubt about it."
Rollins turned to look into the camera. "We've got a mountain of
trouble out there, Colonel," he said "A whole damned cat task force just
popped onto our scopes."
The image in the monitor broke up, replaced by Eisen's heavy, scowling
features. "I'll take it, Lieutenant," he said crisply. "Colonel Blair, we
have four carriers plus escorts incoming. No fighters yet, but you can bet
they'll launch a flock of Сem when they've closed the range."
"That's pretty long odds," Blair said slowly. "Delius Station doesn't
have much firepower."
"Not enough to make a difference," Eisen agreed. "We're breaking orbit
and heading for the nearest jump point. There's no sense in buying it here."
"And our orders? The flight wing?"
"Get ready for a magnum launch, Colonel. Get your birds ready. We may
need them to buy the ship enough time to reach the jump point." Eisen's look
was grim. "Another bug-out, Colonel. I'm sorry, but it looks like you'll be
covering our tails one more time."
"Understood, sir," Blair said.
Eisen had already turned away from the intercom, issuing orders to his
bridge crew. "Navigation! Plot course to the nearest jump point. Helm, break
orbit. Proceed at full thrust. Gunnery. . . be ready to clear a path if the
debris field gets too thick . . ." The intercom went dead.
Blair slapped the red switch that issued the magnum launch alert. A new
alarm shrilled, followed by the computer's public address announcement.
"LAUNCH STATIONS! LAUNCH STATIONS! ALL FLIGHT WING PERSONNEL TO LAUNCH
STATIONS MAGNUM LAUNCH!"
Flight Deck. TCS Victory Delius System
Blair checked his instruments for what seemed like the hundredth time,
knowing that nothing had changed yet feeling compelled to do something.
Every one of Victory's fighters was crewed and ready, even a pair that the
technical staff had down checked as unreliable. Now they were waiting, and
that was an agony worse than any combat situation.
The carrier had opened up a fair lead over the Kilrathi ships, bulling
her way through the asteroid field with weapons blazing to clear away any
chunk of rock big enough to pose a threat to the ship. The Imperial vessels
were more cautious, keeping to a tight formation and lumbering slowly after
Victory as if reluctant to commit themselves to an attack. Perhaps they had
learned to respect the Terrans in earlier clashes . . . or perhaps they
simply regarded it as triumph enough to drive the ship away from Delius
Station, leaving the Terrans there Ч including a small contingent of the
carrier's crew still on liberty Ч completely at the mercy of the Kilrathi
task force.
Blair was starting to hope they might not have to beat off any genuine
attack, but the threat remained. They wouldn't be able to relax their guard
until they made the jump to Tamayo, if then.
"Colonel, sensors are reporting a launch in progress from the lead
Kilrathi carrier." Rollins gave him a welcome distraction, however grim his
news might be. "It's the flagship . . . Hvar'kann. Looks like you'll be
having a party after all.''
"Acknowledged," Blair said. "Flight wing, from Blair. Begin launch
sequence on my mark."
At that moment his comm panel went crazy. The visual display broke up
in a kaleidoscope of patterns and colors, and the speakers in his helmet
squealed and whined. It took several seconds for the noise to fade and the
screen to come back on-line. Blair stared at the monitor, as if it might
give him some clue to what had just happened.
A glowering Kilrathi face filled the screen, a face Blair had seen many
times before.
Thrakhath.
The image jumped and jittered again, then returned. Blair studied it
thoughtfully, wondering what was causing the distortion. Ship to ship video
transmissions used computers to encode and decode messages, and to provide
automatic translations of foreign languages. For the computer to have this
much trouble reconstructing whatever message Thrakhath was broadcasting
meant the signal content must be massive. Evidently, the Kilrathi were
trying to overload Victory's whole comm system and Jam every frequency the
Terrans might be using.
Thrakhath's image began to speak as the computers processed their
translation of the Kilrathi language. I have heard of your Terran Bible with
its predictions that there will be a weeping and gnashing of teeth. These
the Imperial Race will soon fulfill. We will tear out your tongues, we will
scoop out your brains. You will learn to beg for the release of death."
Blair tried to switch to a different comm channel, but Thrakhath's
hissing, taunting image remained on the screen. "You will be prime examples
to the other races in the galaxy, you clownish baboons. Your race will
suffer a thousand torments and more. And do not think that the presence of
the Heart of the Tiger among you can make a difference. Colonel Blair will
be reduced to a pile of entrails, his bones will be gnawed by our young."
Hearing himself referred to directly made Blair stiffen. It wasn't
often that the Kilrathi chose to grant a name to one of their human
adversaries . . . and it inevitably meant that the individual they chose to
"honor" had become the prime target of a Kilrathi challenge.
"Heart of the Tiger, you shall pay for the blood of every Kilrathi
noble you have dispatched in baffle. They shall make songs of your death, of
the failure and disgrace you shall know even before your death. Already you
have failed, Heart of the Tiger, failed at Locanda Four, failed at Ariel . .
. failed your lair-mate, the one known as Devereaux, the Angel."
Blair gasped as the image of Thrakhath on his monitor blacked out, only
to be replaced by a new scene. . . .
A scene from hell.
It was a large room, red-lit, dark, with ornate fittings and
decorations more suggested than seen among the shadows. A throng of Kilrathi
in garb Blair recognized as that of the high nobility were gathered in the
middle of the open chamber, bowing low as Thrakhath and an aged Kilrathi,
the Emperor himself, entered. As the Emperor sat on the imposing throne,
Blair became aware of movement in the shadows on either side of the two
figures. It was difficult to judge exactly what was happening, but when he
finally realized what he was witnessing, he wished he had not.
There were Terrans along the wall behind the throne men and women
hanging in chains, their Confed-issue flight suits in rags. Bulky Kilrathi
guards carrying nerve-prods moved among them, striking out almost at random,
eliciting cries and moans from their victims.
"Once again an enemy threat to our very homeworld has been thwarted,"
the Emperor intoned solemnly. "This puny contingent of their soldiers was
captured aboard a hijacked Imperial transport in orbit around Kilrah
itself."
There was a scattering of calls from the assembled nobles Ч shock,
anger, hatred plain in their voices and bearing. The Emperor silenced them
with a curt gesture and gave Thrakhath a sign to speak.
"This incursion was an act of desperation," the prince said, showing
his fangs. His arms made encompassing gestures toward the victims behind the
throne. "Look at these pathetic hairless apes. They have failed their race
utterly."
A growling cheer rose from the crowd.
"Do what you will with them," the Emperor said.
Red light glimmered off Thrakhath's fangs. "There will be no
interrogation for these pitiful apes . . . and no warrior's death. They are
offal, fit only for death." The Prince waved a dismissive hand. "Only one
among them is worthy of being treated as a warrior. Their leader . . . the
one they call . . . Angel."
Blair wanted to look away as a pair of burly Kilrathi warriors
half-pushed, half-dragged a familiar petite figure into the middle of the
throne room directly in front of Thrakhath. Like the other Terrans, she had
been tortured, her flight suit reduced to tattered ruin, the face that
haunted Blair's dreams bruised. There was dried blood on her forehead, a
livid welt on one cheek, but she wore her defiance like a shield. Whatever
the Kilrathi had done to her, Jeannette Devereaux's spirit remained as fiery
and determined as ever.
At the sight of the woman, the Kilrathi nobles grew more agitated.
Blair recognized the bloodlust in their eyes, in the way they bared claws
and fangs as they jeered the captive. Only the sheer force of Thrakhath's
personality held them at bay as he stepped down from the dais to inspect
Angel more closely.
"Still defiant, Colonel Devereaux?" the prince asked. "You should know
by now it is a pathetic and useless gesture. The hunt has nearly run its
course, and your race is prey beneath our claws."
"You bore me, monsieur, she told him, mustering a faint smile. "I would
prefer to join my comrades, rather than listen to more of your boasting."
"You will not join them, Colonel," Thrakhath said. "Your fate shall be
different."
Angel replied by spitting in his face. There were hisses and jeers from
the crowd, a harsh growl from Thrakhath's throat. He turned to address his
nobles.
"The human cannot appreciate the honor I bestow upon her. She is not
only a great warrior, but her lair-mate is the one known as the Heart of the
Tiger." He turned back to her; his eyes narrowed in a deadly stare. The
cries of the Kilrathi reached a bloodthirsty crescendo. "You have slain many
fine warriors during your career You have earned this honor."
The prince unsheathed his claws. With a single thrust he jabbed them
deep into her stomach and lifted her off the ground, high into the air.
Blood flowed freely from the wound. The view on the screen caught her face
in close-up as the life drained from her eyes. Blair thought he saw a final
look of appeal there, as if she was crying out to him for rescue . . . or
for vengeance.
Then the prince released her, and her lifeless body crumpled to the
ground.
Thrakhath's image filled the screen again. "Come, Heart of the Tiger,"
he said. "I am leading; my warriors into battle today. If you would live up
to the honor your lair-mate earned, come and fight. Or be shown for the
pathetic coward you are."
Christopher Blair stared at the screen, his mind a whirl of anger and
pain and hate. At that moment, all he wanted to do was kill. . . .
Bridge, TCS Victory Delius System
"Can't you shut the damned thing off, Lieutenant?" Eisen demanded. On
his communications screen, Thrakhath's feral features continued to glare
hatred and challenge. The message was starting all over again.
"I'm trying, sir," Rollins answered. "But it's not an ordinary
transmission. Damn thing's got the whole comm system tied in knots. Hold on
a minute . . . I think I can kick in a backup system . . . everybody cross
your fingers!"
The communications officer entered a code sequence on his board, and a
moment later the Kilrathi message broke up into static. A few seconds later
Eisen's screen was back to normal, the green light shining above it
indicating the system was ready to use.
"Thank you, Mr. Rollins," Eisen said. "Ensign Dumont, get me an updated
sensor reading. What are those bastards doing out there? Oh . . . and
Rollins, put me through to Colonel Blair."
"On the line, sir."
Blair's head appeared on the monitor. Even though his flight helmet
faceplate hid Blairs features, Eisen thought he looked pale and stricken.
There was no mistaking the barely-suppressed snarl in his voice. "Ready to
launch, Captain," he said.
"Not so fast, Colonel," Eisen told him. СWe're still trying to get a
picture of what the cats are doing. The ship s less than fifteen minutes
from the jump point, and we might make it yet without having to launch."
"If they've got fighters out, sir, you'll have to put us out there to
hold them off," Blair replied. "At least for a little while."
"Look, Colonel . . ." Eisen trailed off. He didn't know what to say to
the man, after Thrakhath's message. "Maybe you ought to sit this one out,
Blair. Let Hobbes take over."
"No, sir," Blair said curtly.
"Is that the Wing Commander talking . . . or a man who's looking for
revenge?"
"Both, sir," Blair answered. He was silent for a moment before going
on. "Look, Captain, I won't pretend. . . that bastard got me where I live,
using Angel like that. He's trying to goad me into doing something stupid.
And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to oblige him . . . bad. Real bad.
But in this case, playing along with his little game is our best option. As
long as Thrakhath figures I'm going to take him up on his challenge, the
rest of his fighters will hold back. Nobody's going to get into the middle
of the Crown Prince's blood feud."
"I don't like it," Eisen said. "I've never thought this Thrakhath was
very well-equipped in the honor department, however much the cats make of
it. What do you say, Colonel Ralgha? You know more about the Prince than any
of us."
Hobbes was slow to answer, and when he did his voice sounded blurred,
distant. "I could not . . . say for sure. The message was intended to . . .
provoke a response. But the challenge could well be legitimate. If Colonel
Blair has been honored with his own warrior's name then the Prince must
consider him to be important somehow."
Blair's voice betrayed a sudden concern. "You all right, buddy? What's
wrong?"
"A . . . headache," Hobbes said slowly. "Some of the higher-pitched
harmonics in the message were . . . grating. "He paused. "And, of course, I
mourn for Colonel Devereaux. She was a brave warrior. And a friend."
"That she was," Blair said. "Captain, what about it? Do we get out
there and buy you some time?"
"I don't like it, Blair. But I don't have a whole lot of options."
Eisen paused as the Sensor Officer displayed new data on the main bridge
monitor. "We definitely have a launch in progress from the Kilrathi
flagship. So far they're still forming up. No way to tell if they plan to
press something, or if they're just threatening. Looks like . . . at least a
squadron already. More likely two, if they're still launching."
"Then we'd better get out there," Blair said. He cut the connection
without awaiting a reply.
Eisen leaned forward in his chair. "God go with you, Colonel," he said
softly.
Flight Deck. KIS Hvar'kann Delius System
"Lord Prince, surely you do not need to take personal command today.
The cockpit of a fighter is no place for the Imperial Heir when the battle
is so insignificant."
Thrakhath paused halfway up the ladder to the cockpit of his Bloodfang
and turned to glare his contempt down on Melek. "I have issued the
challenge. Would you have me hold back now, in front of our warriors?"
"No, Lord Prince. . ." Melek trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "But
if something was to happen to you now, with triumph so close under our
talons, we would lose everything we have worked to achieve. The personal
challenge was a risk you did not need to take. Others would have willingly
taken on the Heart of the Tiger for you."
"No! We want to cut this ape out of his troop, and for that he must be
goaded beyond all reason. I killed his lair-mate. He will not turn back from
the chance to kill me in return. And then . . . we have him."
"He is a skilled pilot, Lord Prince," Melek warned.
"I know it well." Thrakhath showed his fangs. "I am not a fool, Melek.
Honor requires me to be present for the challenge, but it doesn't require me
to sacrifice myself. My escorts will intervene if the need arises. But the
important thing is to eliminate this Colonel Blair now so that he does not
stand in the way of our plans for the Behemoth Go now. You command in my
absence. Let the hunt begin!"
Thunderbolt 300 Delius System
Blair's fighter leapt from the end of the launch tube into the void,
building thrust as he steered toward the rest of Gold Squadron assembling
beyond the stern of the Victory. It required all of his will to stay focused
on his instruments, the sensor screen, and the battle ahead. He couldn't
afford to let himself dwell on Angel.
"Thunderbolt three-zero-zero, under power," he reported. "Gold Squadron
deployed and ready."
"You sure we shouldn't; let Whittaker's boys and girls give you a hand
out there, Colonel?" The duty Flight Control Officer, Lieutenant Rashad,
sounded worried.
"Keep them on stand-by, Lieutenant," Blair said. "I'll let you know if
we need them."
It was the same problem encountered at Ariel. With the carrier heading
for the jump point, too many fighters in space would only complicate their
escape. Blair overruled the original call for a magnum launch, preferring to
put out the eight fighters of Gold Squadron and hold the others in reserve
in case they were needed. But he didn't intend to need them, not today. All
the Terrans needed to do at the moment was keep the Kilrathi distracted
until the carrier was ready to jump.
So far, the cats were cooperating quite nicely. Their fighters were
maintaining a tight formation well out of range of the carrier's guns. None
showed any desire to venture close enough to threaten the Terran vessel.
"Eight minutes," Rollins' voice informed them.
"What are they waiting for?" Flash complained.
"Maybe they're scared of you, kid," Maniac responded.
"Cut the chatter, people," Blair growled. He was feeling as impatient
as Dillon. If only Thrakhath would put his fighter in Blair's crosshairs . .
.
"Does the Heart of the Tiger hide among the other apes?" Thrakhath's
mocking voice filled his helmet speakers. "And under the guns of his ship?
The challenge was to meet in personal combat."
On his screens, he saw a Vaktoth accelerate away from the other
Kilrathi ships, but it stayed well clear of Victory. For a moment Blair
toyed with the idea of ordering the squadron to attack, but he knew the
Kilrathi would he on their guard against such a move. The name of the game,
for now at least, was to keep from letting a full-scale battle develop for
as long as possible.
Thrakhath must have realized the same thing, for a few seconds later a
pair of Vaktoth broke formation followed by two more. These streaked toward
the carrier. Gold Squadron lay directly in their path.
"Here they come!" Cobra called. "Permission to engage?"
"Let them come to us," Blair ordered Wingmen, stick close to your
partners."
The first two Vaktoth drove into the center of the Terran formation
then rolled outward, opening fire with guns and missiles. Cobra and her
wingman, Vaquero, went after the first one, while Maniac and Vagabond
engaged the second. Blair watched the second pair of fighters and felt his
pulse race. "Hobbes, you and Flash take the one on the left," he said.
"Flint and I'll take the other guy."
"Understood," was Ralgha's reply. He still sounded distracted. Flash
gave a whoop and kicked in his afterburners, racing to meet the oncoming
fighter.
Blair couldn't spend any more time worrying about the others. The
fourth Vaktoth was almost on them, concentrating fire against Flint's
Thunderbolt. Blair turned sharply and accelerated, opening fire with his
blasters, while Flint banked sharply left to try to keep her weakened
port-side shields from taking any more damage.
The Vaktoth pilot was good. He maintained his fire on Flint, randomly
altering vectors to dodge most of Blair's fire while he kept up the pressure
on his original target. Blair gave a curse and locked a heat-seeker on the
Vaktoth's tail, then followed the missile with his blasters, pouring out all
the power his weapons system could muster. The shield collapsed, and blaster
fire tore into the armor until the power cut out, recharging.
His opponent seemed to realize then that Blair represented too great a
threat to ignore any longer. He started turning away from Flint to bring his
weapons to bear and to cover his exposed rear, but as he turned, Flint took
the opening without hesitation. Her blasters continued where Blair's ended,
and a moment later the Vaktoth exploded in a thousand whirling fragments.
"Nice shooting, Lieutenant," Blair called. "Good to have you back on my
wing."
"Its where I belong Colonel," she replied.
"Somebody get this bastard off me! Hobbes! Colonel!" Flash's voice was
hoarse with panic. "I can't shake him!"
On his scanner, Blair saw Flash trying to break away from the Vaktoth
he challenged, but the enemy pilot was right on his tail. Hobbes was closing
in, but slowly, cautiously, as if the Kilrathi renegade was afraid of
getting too close to the dogfighting pair. Blair banked the Thunderbolt,
increasing his speed, but he knew he wouldn't be able to reach Flash in time
to do any good.
Hobbes took up a position behind the enemy fighter and opened fire, but
his first shots went wild. The Vaktoth unleashed another attack. This time a
deadly hail of energy bolts and missiles rained on Flash's ship as the young
pilot tried to turn out of the Vaktoth's line of fire.
He was too late. Blair heard him scream as a fireball consumed his
craft.
Once again Hobbes fired, but this time his opponent rolled sideways and
accelerated back toward the rest of the Kilrathi formation. More Vaktoth
were on their way.
"Five minutes to Jump Sequence start," Rollins announced. "Captain
wants to know if we should launch additional fighters?"
"Negative," Blair grated. His sensors showed that the other two Vaktoth
from the first flight had both been destroyed. The Terran fighters were
regrouping again, ready to meet the next threat. "Hobbes, without a wingman
you'll be a sitting duck. Retreat to the carrier and land."
"I should remain, my friend."
For a moment Blair considered having the Kilrathi switch positions with
one of the other pilots, someone less steady, less reliable. Flint, or
Vaquero, or perhaps Maniac. But the way Hobbes had been handling himself
today, he was no more reliable than any of them. Even Marshall seemed to
have himself under control, but Ralgha was plainly off his game. And Flash
had paid the price. "No, Hobbes. Pack it in. That's an order."
"As you command." Ralgha's Thunderbolt broke away and headed toward the
carrier. Now there were only six Terran fighters to face the next wave of
Kilrathi.
This time four Imperial craft came at once, holding a tight formation
all the way. Blair waited until they were just outside of weapons range
before ordering Gold Squadron to turn from the oncoming Vaktoth and go to
afterburners. The Kilrathi gave chase.
"Maintain course," Blair said quietly. It was almost a mantra.
"Maintain course . . . Break! Break and attack! Victory, pour it on!"
The Terran fighters split up, each pair of wingmen peeling off in a
different direction and looping back toward the pursuing Kilrathi. At the
same time, Victory's defensive batteries opened fire, filling the void with
searing bursts of raw energy. A pair of hits took out one of the enemy ships
in the blink of an eye, and another suffered heavy damage as it tried to
dodge the carrier's beams and pursue Cobra. Vaquero, on her wing, finished
the attacker off with a well-placed missile.
Maniac dove straight towards his target, all guns blazing, passing bare
meters away from his opponent before the Kilrathi pilot could even react.
Slowly, carefully, Vagabond trailed him, and his blasters exploited the
weakened shields to burn through the fighter's cockpit and kill the pilot.
The Vaktoth plunged on, uncontrolled, until Victory destroyed it a few
seconds later.
Meanwhile, Flint and Blair split and circled the last Imperial fighter
from opposite sides, hammering the hull with blasters as they sped past. As
a parting shot, Blair dropped a fire-and-forget missile. It hit the
Vaktoth's starboard wing moments later. The explosion didn't destroy the
enemy craft, but it was visibly damaged as it turned and ran, trailing
debris and leaking atmosphere. Maniac caught the fighter as it tried to flee
and finished it with a few well-placed blaster shots.
"Three minutes," Rollins said.
Blair studied his scanners. The Kilrathi fighters were still out there,
but the countdown was getting close enough that he had to start thinking
about getting the rest of the squadron on board. Anyway, the Imperial ships
wouldn't be inclined to cut things too fine by staging an attack now. The
energy discharge of a carrier going into jump could do terrible damage to
fighters close enough to be caught by the creation of the Transition Field.
"Take them in, people," he ordered "Maniac, Vagabond, you two first.
Don't miss the first approach. You might not get another one. Cobra and
Vaquero, you go as soon as they're clear. Flint, you're with me."
No one argued, though he thought he heard Maniac muttering a protest.
The first two Thunderbolts peeled off and headed back for the carrier; the
second two followed, but more slowly, to give Marshall and Chang time to set
down and clear the flight deck. Time passed with agonizing slowness, with no
further moves from the Kilrathi. But Blair was tense. He was sure Thrakhath
wouldn't let them leave without some kind of final shot.
"Two minutes," Rollins announced at length. "Maniac and Vagabond are
aboard. Vaquero's in the beam now."
"You're up, Flint," he said. "Take her inside."
"Don't be slow following me, Colonel," she responded. "I'm getting too
used to flying on your wing."
She left him, and Blair started a quick checklist for his own approach
and landing. It was starting to look like Thrakhath wasn't planning a last
push after all . . .
"Jump Sequence start in ninety seconds," Rollins said. "Better bring
her in now, Colonel."
As he started to turn, Thrakhath's voice boomed loud in his speakers.
"So, I was right, ape. In the end you do run. You did not meet my challenge.
. . Even your lair-mate showed more courage, facing death."
"Seventy-five seconds, Colonel."
Blair tried to shut Thrakhath's words out of his mind, but the
Kilrathi's mocking voice went on. "We misnamed you, perhaps, in calling you
the Heart of the Tiger. You are weak. . . a coward. . . a failure. Not
worthy of your lair-mate at all." The Kilrathi's voice took on a harsher
edge now. "I enjoyed the feel of her blood running over my hands, Terran. As
I enjoyed the taste of her flesh, in the victory feast."
The words hammered at him on a level below conscious thought, and blind
rage threatened to claim him. The carrier was looming large ahead of his
fighter, but Blair hardly saw it through the red haze that clouded his eyes.
He wanted to turn around, accept the Kilrathi's challenge, batter through
Thrakhath's defenses and silence his taunts once and for all. That thing,
that animal, had killed Angel and served her up at one of the barbaric
Kilrathi ritual feasts.
"Almost in the beams, Colonel." Rollins said. "Keep her steady . . .
steady . . . Reduce your speed! If you don't cut your speed you'll
overshoot!"
"For Gods sake, skipper, don't let him get to you!" That was Flint's
voice. "If you take his challenge, you're stuck out there! Thrakhath'll wait
. . . you'll get another chance at him!"
The words penetrated his fog, and Blair killed his forward momentum
with a hard braking thrust, like a kick from a horse. Almost sobbing, he
stabbed at the landing gear controls as the beams took hold. Slowly gently,
the fighter dropped toward the deck and touched down.
He hardly noticed as the fighter was drawn into the hangar area. A pair
of spacesuited figures released his cockpit, urging him to get out even
before gravity or pressure were restored, and Blair neither helped nor
resisted them. They guided him across the open space in long, low-G bounds.
Pressure was restored as they reached the door, and one of them-Blair
vaguely realized it was Flint, still clad in flight suit and combat helmet Ч
helped him remove his own helmet as they guided him into the corridor. His
other helper fumbled with helmet releases and finally freed the bulky
headgear. It was Rachel Coriolis.
"JUMP SEQUENCE ENGAGED, the computer announced blandly. ONE MINUTE TO
JUMP."
"You gave us a scare, skipper," Rachel said. "Thought you were gonna
pull a bolter and miss the landing."
"I should have," Blair said. "I should have stayed out there and nailed
that damned furball."
"That's exactly what he wanted," Flint told him. "If you had let him
draw you into a fight, you'd never have made it back before we jumped. I
thought you were the one who never let it get to you? Isn't that what you
said when you were chewing me out?"
He looked at her and slowly shook his head. "Maybe so. And maybe I was
wrong when I said it." Blair looked away. "I guess I'll never know, now.
Blair brushed away their offered help as the elevator doors opened and
he stepped into the cab. They followed, but he ignored them both, staring
rigidly ahead at the keypad controls, unwilling to talk. Inside he felt
drained, empty of everything except the knowledge that he had failed.
The knowledge that Angel remained unavenged.
Flight Deck, KIS Hvar'kann Delius System
An honor guard greeted Thrakhath as he disembarked from his fighter,
but he ignored them all in his anger. He glared as Melek approached, bowing.
"Lord Prince, the Terran carrier has jumped. The captain of the
Toor'vaas reports that the asteroid base has been breached, and Assault
Marines are penetrating the station. There is no sign of further resistance
anywhere."
Thrakhath gave him a dismissive gesture. "I expected none," he said,
not bothering to hide the angry growl in his voice. "See to it there are no
apes left alive once their base has been secured."
"But, Lord Prince, there will be many suitable slaves there." Melek
looked shocked. "Surely you would not deny the Clans their right to take
back captives Ч "
"No survivors, I said!" Thrakhath snapped.
Melek stepped back as if physically stricken. "As you wish, Lord
Prince," he said, bowing again.
"We have been at war with these apes for more than a generation, Melek.
But I still cannot understand them. How could any sentient creature, however
lacking in honor, fail to respond to a chance for vengeance?" Thrakhath
studied his retainer for a long moment. "You are sure that this Blair was
truly lair-mate to the one we killed?"
"Intelligence reports claimed so, Lord Prince. Based on many
interrogations of captured human pilots. The knowledge was evidently widely
known in their warrior community."
Thrakhath took a moment to chain his anger and speak calmly, as
befitted a Prince. "Clearly the animal humans are even less civilized than
we thought. They do not even respect their lair-mates enough to fight for
them." He paused. "But even if the Heart of the Tiger survives, the rest of
the plan shall move forward. He cannot deflect the fate that pursues the
Terrans now.
"Yes, Lord Prince."
"Order a carrier to follow the Terran ship, but wait until it has had
time to get well clear of the jump point before sending it Sar'hrai would be
a good choice. Give his new captain a chance to prove his worth. They are to
mount a close surveillance on the enemy carrier, using stealth craft. When
our agent makes his move, we must be ready." Thrakhath showed his fangs for
a moment. "Our claws are at their throats, Melek. They will not escape the
hunt."
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Tamayo System
Once again the flight deck was crowded with officers and crewmen
gathered to bid farewell to one of their own. The neat ranks of pilots,
technicians, and ship's crew . . . the honor guard with weapons held in a
stiff rifle salute . . . the chaplain's service, and the empty coffin
waiting by the launch tube Ч only the names changed, but never the trappings
or the emotion.
Christopher Blair slowly stepped forward to the temporary podium. He
never relished this duty, but today he hated everything about it.
"Major Jace Dillon was a reluctant warrior in the Confederation's
battle against the Empire," Blair said slowly. He raised his eyes to study
the front ranks, especially the pilots of Gold Squadron. For a fleeting
moment he wondered what Ralgha was thinking. Did the Kilrathi renegade
regret letting the young Terran pilot down in that last battle? Hobbes had
certainly been withdrawn ever since. It was a feeling Blair understood
entirely. "Nevertheless, Flash never turned back when the going got tough.
He more than made up for his youth and inexperience by flying with vigor and
courage, and he died carrying the fight to the enemy."
As he stepped back to allow the chaplain to advance and carry on with
the funeral ceremony, Blair's eyes rested on the lone coffin. He wished he
could have said a few words about Angel, but it would have been out of place
here. Still, it wasn't Flash he was thinking about as the coffin accelerated
out of the hangar deck, or as the honor guard fired their low-powered
volleys. And when he bowed his head to offer up a prayer, it was Angel
Devereaux who was foremost in his mind.
Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory Tamayo System
Blair sat alone at a table by the viewport, staring down into his empty
glass as if it was a crystal ball that might give him a glimpse of another
time and place. He was hardly aware of his surroundings, the other pilots
and crewmen who talked, laughed and carried on with their lives, with only
an occasional glance at the solitary, withdrawn figure of their wing
commander.
A shadow fell across the table, and he looked into the knowing eyes of
Rachel Coriolis. She put a bottle down on the table beside him. "You look
like you could use a little more anesthetic," she said softly.
He poured a shot and drank, wincing a little at the bite of the cheap
liquor in his mouth and throat. Rachel studied him for a moment, as if
waiting for him to speak. Instead he refilled the glass and held it,
watching the reflections dance in the amber liquid.
"Thrakhath really got to you, didn't he?" Rachel asked. "He knew all
the right buttons to push."
Still Blair didn't answer. He took a longer, slower sip, then looked up
at Rachel.
"I know how you feel, Colonel," she said, even softer this time. "I
know what it's like, losing someone to this damned war." She hesitated a
moment. "Do you want company? Or is the bottle enough?"
Those words got through his defenses at last. He looked from Rachel to
the bottle, then back at her again. "Company? Yeah." He pushed the bottle
away. "Yeah, I guess talking is better than drinking, but it isn't easy."
She settled into the chair across from him. "No, it isn't. But you
can't run away from people, and you can't take refuge in getting drunk.
Those things just postpone the inevitable."
"I knew, deep down, that she might not be coming back," he said slowly.
"I was afraid she was dead. I had nightmares about it. But seeing it like
that . . . and having that bastard gloating about it . . ."
"Well, kick in a bulkhead or something. Get it out somehow, okay? Don't
wait until you're back in the cockpit again. If you try to take it out on
the cats Ч look, I've been through that already, with somebody I cared about
very much. I wouldn't want to go through it again."
He met her eyes. "Somebody you cared about, . . I hope you're not
thinking. . . ."
Rachel looked away. "I know better than to put the moves on somebody
who's just had a kick like the one you've had," she said. "Let's just say .
. . Let's just say you're a man I could care about . . . if there was
nothing else holding you. And I wouldn't want to see you throw your life
away, no matter what."
"I'm a dangerous man to be around, Rachel," he told her. "My friends,
my shipmates . . . Angel . . . they keep leaving on the last flight without
me. If you're smart, you'll give me a wide berth."
"Nobody's ever accused me of being smart," she said with a ghost of a
smile. "And I think it's better to take your chances than to steer clear of
. . . a friend."
Wing Commander's Office, TCS Victory Torgo System
"All right, last item on the list," Blair said, ticking off another
point on his personal data display. "Captain says we re due for a visit from
some VIPs tomorrow. Thirteen hundred hours. We need to police the flight
deck and hangar areas and try to get them somewhere approaching shipshape.
Maniac, I'm putting you in charge of that detail."
Marshall looked up. "Me? When did I become the maid around here?"
Whittaker, Mbuto, and Captain Betz, the acting CO of Green Squadron,
all chuckled. Ralgha. sitting in the corner of the office away from the
others around the desk, studied his claws with an expression resembling
boredom.
"Just do it, Maniac. We want to make a good impression. Now that we're
back at Sector HQ, we have to pretend we're in the Navy instead of playing
at being the pirate scum of the galaxy." Blair looked around the office.
"Anybody have anything else to talk about?"
No one spoke, and Blair nodded sharply. "That'll be all, then." He
stood up when the others did and watched them file through the door. Hobbes
was the last to leave and Blair intercepted him. "Anything on your mind
buddy? You've been pretty quiet, the last few days."
Ralgha shook his head ponderously. "Nothing of importance," he rumbled.
"Look, if you're upset at getting sent in after Flash bought it . . ."
"I am not," the Kilrathi said. He fixed Blair with a look the human
couldn't easily fathom. СWe have been friends for many years, you and I.
Faced many things together. But just as you have trouble sharing your pain
over Angel, I have . . . feelings I find hard to share now."
"Losing her hit you pretty hard, too, didn't it?"
The Kilrathi didn t speak for a long moment. "I fear that humans . . .
have rarely been my friends. She was one of the few. I . . . regret her
passing. And what it may lead to." He was watching Blair closely.
"If you're worried about me, don't," Blair said. "I had a long talk
with myself the other day, after Flash's funeral. Somebody reminded me that
I've got responsibilities I can't afford to let go of just because I'm
hurting over her. So I won't do anything stupid."
The Kilrathi gave a very human shrug. "Your species is resilient," he
said. "But. . . Colonel Devereaux's death may not be the worst thing we will
see, before the end."
"I know what you mean, buddy," Blair told him. "Look you get some rest.
I think this whole mess has been about as rough on you as it's been on me."
He clapped Hobbes on the shoulder. "If it helps any, I want you to know that
I think she d be proud, knowing you thought of her as a friend."
Before Ralgha could answer, the door buzzed, and Blair opened it.
Rollins stood outside, with Cobra behind him. She gave Hobbes a disdainful
look as he passed them, then followed Rollins into the office.
"What can I do for you two?" Blair asked, gesturing to the chairs by
the desk and resuming his own seat.
"Colonel, we've been talking," Cobra said. "About Thrakhath's
broadcast, before the battle at Delius."
Blair frowned. "What about it?"
"We're puzzled, Colonel," Rollins said. "The whole thing was pretty
strange, by my way of thinking. All that effort to issue a challenge to you,
and then . . . well, not much of a follow-up. I mean, he did his best to
sucker you into a dogfight, but think of how poorly they handled the whole
op. They gave us plenty of warning they were coming, and let us get all the
way to the jump point before they put on much of an attack. Then that
signal, and some bluster and threats. It doesn't add up."
"Hmmm . . ." Blair nodded slowly. "You're right. It's almost as if they
wanted me, but they didn't care about the ship. If they'd come in with
everything blazing while we were still at Delius station they could've had
Victory for breakfast . . . and me with it. You think they wanted the ship
to get away? Bad enough to let me go despite Thrakhath s challenge?"
"It could be, Colonel," Rollins said.
"The question is, why?"
Cobra leaned forward in her seat. "Colonel, there's something else that
could be important here. I don't know what it was for sure, but there was
something . . . familiar about that transmission."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She shrugged. "I can't put it into words, sir. It wasn't anything I
heard. . . or saw. I just had a sense of. . . something. Something familiar.
It . . . it gave me a headache, when I was watching it."
"Hobbes said something similar," Blair mused. СRollins, can you shed
any light on it?"
"Beats the hell out of me, Colonel," the communications officer said.
"I want to run some checks on the recordings we made. That wasn't just an
ordinary audio/video signal, you know. It was a broad-spectrum transmission
that had damn near every channel blocked. At first I thought they were just
trying to jam us so our comm system would crash. But it was like the whole
attack. In the end, they just weren't trying very much. Otherwise they
would've kept the jamming up during the battle. But I have to say this . . .
if all they were trying to do was get you upset with their challenge and. .
. all the rest. . . well, it was overkill. Pure and simple."
Cobra bit her lip. "Sir, I know we've had our differences, and I know
what you told me about accusations. About wanting proof. . . and I don't
have any. But I have to say this anyway, even if you're going to throw me in
the brig over it. I think there could have been some kind of hidden signal
in all that junk. To a Kilrathi agent."
"You're talking about Hobbes, of course," Blair said, frowning.
"Lieutenant . . ."
"I didn't say it was Hobbes, sir," Cobra said. "But we know the cats
have agents in the Confederation."
Rollins cleared his throat. "Colonel, I think you should hear her out
on this. It would explain a lot, if the cats had an agent aboard."
"Like how they keep throwing us softballs in tight corners," Buckley
amplified. "Letting us get away at Delius. Ariel, too, if you think about
it. They could make jump points disappear, but the second one stayed open
for us. And it wasn't defended, either."
Blair looked from one to the other. "It still isn't proof of anything
except the fact that both of you have active imaginations," he said at last.
"You know where I stand. I don't like having accusations leveled at Hobbes,
and all you've really got here is a conspiracy theory." He looked down at
his desk. "It's a very serious charge to make . . ."
"Hell, Colonel, I'm not saying it is Hobbes," Cobra told him. "I mean,
he's a Kilrathi, and you know how I feel about him, but I know this doesn't
prove anything." She Laughed, a short, bitter, humorless sound. "For all I
know, Colonel, you're the Kilrathi spy. You love the cats . . . a cat, at
least, and you were in command when things went sour at Locanda Four. All
I'm saying is that it would explain some pretty strange shit. I think we
have to consider it."
"All right, Lieutenant. I'll consider it." Blair leaned back in his