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