Heart Of The Tiger (27 page)

"Understood, Captain," Blair said. He paused. "And if there's a picket at the other jump point, sir? I doubt we can out fox them a second time around . . ."

"Just pray we get lucky, Colonel," Eisen said grimly. "Because luck's about the only thing that'll bail us out at this point."

"Roger that," Blair responded. "Okay, Gold Squadron, you heard the man. Form on me and keep a sharp eye on your sensors. By this time they've probably got more than Darket out there, so be ready."

"If they can close down one jump point, they can close them all," Maniac said, still sounding ragged. "How the hell are we supposed to fight them if they can do that?"

"Stay frosty, Maniac," Blair told him. "Same for the rest of you. Whatever the cats are doing, we can't let it put us off our stride now. The ship's counting on us."

He adjusted his course to match the vectors Victory's computers fed to the fighters and adjusted the sensitivity on his scanners. If the Kilrathi really could shut down a jump point at will, the war was as good as over . . . but Blair refused to allow himself to dwell on the bitter thought. For now, all that mattered was survival.

"They are moving again, Lord Prince." Melek gave a deep, formal bow as he approached the throne on its raised dais. "The destroyer Irrkham has them at the very edge of his sensor range. Their vector indicates they are probably trying for the Delius jump point. It is the closest to their present location."

Thrakhath studied Melek without speaking, and the retainer grew uncomfortable under his lingering stare. Finally the Prince spoke. "The Mask has performed its function, then?" he asked.

"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek replied. "The Galiban jump point does not register on any sensors. The Terrans must have believed we simply cut it down, like helpless prey."

"The apes should have remained in the trees of their homeworld, and never challenged warriors of the stars," Thrakhath said, showing his fangs. "They are fools."

"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek agreed quietly. Inwardly he wasn't so sure. It was true that the Terrans still lagged behind the Empire in cloaking technology, but they were catching up fast. They would realize, soon enough, that the Kilrathi couldn't actually close down a jump point, but only obscure it with a particularly powerful cloaking field — and even then only where the dust and gas of a nebula made it possible for the cloak to operate effectively over the large distances needed to cover the jump point.

But Thrakhath remained utterly contemptuous of the Terrans. It was an attitude that worried Melek more and more as the climax of the campaign approached. So far events had unfolded much as the Prince planned, excluding the continued interference of the Victory after several attempts to cripple the carrier had failed. No doubt the unexpected Kilrathi ability to make jump points seem to vanish would, as Thrakhath intended, cause the humans to choose a different target system when they deployed their new weapon, regardless of the knowledge concerning their adversaries. But, sooner or later, Thrakhath's disdain for the Terrans might well lead him to underestimate them at a critical moment, and that could have disastrous consequences.

Melek began to wish he had never accepted the post as Thrakhath's chee'dyachee. As senior vassal and retainer to the Crown Prince, he wielded great power and commanded much influence . . . and was perfectly placed to watch the Imperial family in the interests of his own Clan. But it was a precarious perch at best, given the Prince's temper, and sometimes it was difficult to restrain himself from voicing the doubts he could not put aside.

He became aware that the Crown Prince was still eyeing him with an almost predatory look.

"You seem . . . distracted, Melek," Thrakhath said. "Is there some problem?"

"No, Lord Prince," he replied. "No problem. I was merely . . . awaiting your instructions now that the Terrans have set their new course.

"The plan remains as I outlined it earlier. Now that they have been frightened by our power over the jump points, we will allow them to escape through the Delius point. Order the ships there to drop the Mask and proceed toward the Caliban jump point, as if to reinforce our squadron there after the Terran attack. If they can punish the carrier along the way, they may do so, but remember that the vessel must escape, both to carry word of our new weapon to their leaders and to preserve . . . our other asset. Understood?"

"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek bowed again and withdrew, thankful the audience was over.

"We've got company, Colonel. Looks like a destroyer, with at least two fighters on escort. Feeding you the coordinates now . . ."

The information scrolled across Blair's monitor before Rollins finished speaking. The Kilrathi ship was ahead and to port of Victory, and from its heading was returning from the Delius jump point. The cats were either reinforcing their first squadron or throwing out a net to intercept the Terrans.

In either case, the destroyer could be trouble. There were two fighters flying close by, Vaktoth by the look of their sensor signatures. They could complicate any attempt to deal with the bigger ship.

Blair wished he still had some of the Longbows available, but Gold Squadron was the only fighter force that had not landed on the flight deck and started securing for jump. It was up to the six Thunderbolts to do what they could to protect the carrier.

"Gold Squadron, this is Leader," Blair said. "Tally-ho!" It was the age-old pilot's cry that the enemy was in sight, dating back to the days before spaceflight. "Follow me in, people!"

He kicked in his afterburners and steered the fighter toward the Kilrathi targets, the rest of the squadron trailing him. Blair checked his weapons status and armed blasters and heat-seeking missiles. He and Cobra had engaged in the least amount of fighting at the first jump point, their ships with the least damage and the most reloads available. That made them the best candidates for taking on the destroyer. But it was essential that they get some reliable protection from the enemy fighters.

"Hobbes, Vagabond, you two keep those Vaktoth off our backs," he ordered. "The rest of us are hunting the big cat this time. Understood?"

"We are complying," Hobbes said calmly.

"Just let me at them," Maniac said. He sounded a little less nervous now, as if the prospect of a stand-up fight helped steady him after the shock of having the jump point vanish. Blair hoped he would keep his head.

"Lead the way, Colonel," Cobra added a moment later. She sounded professional, but a little grim.

He reduced his speed and allowed Hobbes and Vagabond to accelerate past the rest of the squadron, diving in toward the enemy formation. Hobbes screamed a Kilrathi challenge as the two fighters closed with their opposite numbers, and that seemed to unnerve the Vaktoth pilots. Both enemy fighters circled away, evading rather than offering battle — unusual for the Kilrathi. Perhaps these were inexperienced flyers, Blair told himself. But was it significant that they were running from Hobbes again . . . ?

He forced the thought from his mind and concentrated instead on the destroyer. It loomed ahead, all menacing points and angles, an asymmetrical, four-pronged dagger aimed at Victory.

"Let's rock!" Maniac called, accelerating suddenly to full speed and diving toward the destroyer, all guns firing wildly. Flash was right behind him. The destroyer's main batteries opened up, driving bolt after bolt of raw energy at the fast-moving Terran ships. Somehow neither Terran fighter was hit, but their blasters battered the destroyer's shields. There was a ripple of explosions as Flash dumped three missiles in quick succession. None penetrated the shields, but Blair's scanners showed the enemy defenses weakening.

Blair killed his momentum, bringing the fighter practically to a dead stop. It was a risky move so close to a capital ship, but with Maniac and Flash doing such a good job of drawing the enemy's attention it was too good a chance to miss. Now the destroyer was lumbering toward him, a nice, steady target. If he could just get in enough good shots at the weakened section of the shielding . . .

He opened fire with his blasters, squeezing off shot after shot until his power reserves were exhausted and the guns shut down until their generators could recycle and bring them back up to full power. The Kilrathi shields still held. It was only then that he realized that Cobra had emulated his move. Her ship was a bare thirty meters off his wing, and now her blasters focused on the same narrow target area as Blair.

The enemy ship's shields failed, and Blair gave a wolfish grin. His blasters came back on-line, and he started firing again. This time the shots were taking off armor, chipping away ever closer to the vulnerable hull of the destroyer. The enemy captain must have recognized his danger by this time, but Maniac and Flash were still closer, still weaving in and out and raking the big ship with sustained if less concentrated fire. Automatic shipboard defense systems would naturally try to track and destroy the nearer threats first, and crewed guns took time to realign on new targets . . .

Blair's blasters ran down a second time, and he switched to a salvo of missiles. Cobra launched at almost the same moment. "Let's get moving, Lieutenant," Blair said, starting up his engines again. He was just beginning to accelerate to full speed when a blast from one of the destroyers main guns caught his port-side shield, knocking it down and ripping into the wing armor in one blow. Then he was clear of the danger and turned quickly to place some distance between his Thunderbolt and the Kilrathi ship.

The missiles began to detonate, tearing through the last of the armor and deep into the bowels of the capital ship. It almost seemed to shudder before it finally tore itself apart.

"Ye-es!" That was Maniac, exultant. "Scratch one great big kitty!"

"Good shooting, Colonel," Cobra added.

"Good shooting, all," Blair corrected. "That one was a team effort. Now let's see if Hobbes and Vagabond need any help cleaning up their little mess.

One of the Vaktoth was running, the other was heavily engaged with Vagabond's Thunderbolt. By the time the rest of Gold Squadron was in range, Hobbes had already come to the aid of his wingman and sent the heavy fighter off to join the shattered destroyer.

"What's your status, people?" Blair asked, calling up his own combat data. He couldn't afford to take another hit on his port side, and he was down to only a single missile. Another serious fight would probably be too much for his battered Thunderbolt to handle.

"Damage is minimal, Colonel," Cobra reported. "But I'm out of missiles, and my fuel reserves aren't looking good."

"I, too, am out of missiles," Hobbes said. "And my forward armor is badly damaged."

The others made similar reports, with damage ranging from Cobra's very minor hits up to Flash, who had suffered serious damage in the fight with the destroyer and was now running with damaged engines and an intermittent fault in his sensors. Blair frowned as he considered the situation. The squadron couldn't do a whole lot more at this point. But they had no idea what else the Kilrathi might throw at them.

"Jump point is on our screens," Rollins reported suddenly. "Looks like we got lucky this time!"

"What about enemy activity?" Blair asked, still frowning. "Anything on your sensors?"

"Looks like another cat destroyer out there, Colonel but at extreme sensor range, Rollins reported after a moments pause. "From his current vector, it doesn't look like he'll be in any position to interfere with us. Captain says to bring your birds back to the nest, sir You're clear to land . . . and . . . you guys sure did a good job holding off those sons-of-bitches."

"Thank God for small favors," Blair muttered. "All right Gold Squadron. Let's pack it in. And pray we don't get any new surprises before we hit the jump point."

Blair climbed slowly from his cockpit, tired and stiff after the long strain of flying. He hadn't realized his personal toll from the operation until now. With the mission over, all he wanted to do was take a long shower, then catch a few hundred hours of sack time.

Unfortunately, that wasn't how it worked. Before seeing his bunk again, Blair knew there was a load of work to finish first.

ALL HANDS, ALL HANDS, JUMP STATIONS. REPEAT, JUMP STATIONS. INTERSTELLAR TRANSIT IN THREE MINUTES. The computer announcement blared over the ship's tannoy, and all around Blair techs hastened to get ready for the jump, like so many ants stirred up by a threat to their hill.

"You sure did bang the old girl up this time, skipper," Rachel Coriolis said from behind him. He turned to see her pointing at the twisted armor and scorched hull plating where the destroyer's gun had pierced his shields. "Better get clear, sir, before the jump."

He nodded, then turned toward the far end of the hangar. Safety precautions called for the hangar deck to be cleared prior to any jump, and already the huge chamber was nearly empty of crewmen. Blair strode rapidly across the deck with Rachel, a few stragglers close behind

The doors snapped open to reveal a tense scene in the corridor beside the elevator. A number of pilots and technicians were present, but the main focus was on Cobra and Hobbes, standing face to face in the middle of the passageway. Lieutenant Buckley had an angry expression on her face, and her hands were flexing as if she, like the Kilrathi, had claws that could tear at her enemies' throats. In contrast, Ralgha nar Hhallas was calm, impassive, a stoic figure facing Cobra's venom.

"Why didn't you warn us that your kind could close jump points?" she demanded, her voice low and menacing.

"I was not aware that they could," Ralgha told her. "This is obviously a recently developed advancement to Kilrathi technology. And a very serious threat. The ability to close down a jump point will give the Empire a great advantage, I fear."