Heart Of The Tiger wc-4 Page 11
"Well, I say they feel the need for a parting shot," Whittaker insisted. "Something to salve their pride when they withdraw. Three carriers could deliver a real punch and flatten the colony facilities before anybody knew what hit them. Then they sail away toward their real target."
"Perhaps," Fairfax said He looked down at his terminal again. "The only other possibility Intelligence can release to us right now is what appears to be a code name for the Kilrathi operation here. Krahnakh Ghayeer . . ."
"Unseen Death," Ralgha said.
Blair exchanged a quick glance with Rollins. Nobody spoke for a many moments.
"Unseen Death," Maniac repeated at last. He sounded unusually thoughtful. "I don t like the sound of that. It reminds me of something I heard back at Torgo . . ." He trailed off, frowning. "Yeah, that was it. I remember a guy telling me about some backwater system the Kilrathi raided a few months back. Only instead of just dropping in for a quick loot'n'scoot, they cleaned the place with some kind of new bioweapon. Pandemic, he called it."
"I heard about that, too," Pierce said with a nod. "Rumor has it that Confed HQ slapped a blackout on the whole thing and quarantined the system."
Rollins was about to speak until he caught the look in Blair's eye. "The war's bad enough without listening to all the rumors flying around," Blair said sharply. "If the cats have a bioweapon, we'll locate it soon enough, you can count on that. In the meantime, we have to concentrate on what we do know — and on learning what we don't know. Isn't that right, Commander Fairfax?"
The intelligence officer nodded, looking unhappy.
"Right, then," Blair went on. "For the moment the name of the game is recon. We know there's a Kilrathi squadron in these parts, and we think they're planning something nasty. If Major Berterelli is right, we need to look for signs of a new base. At the very least, we need to pinpoint areas of enemy activity and try to estimate both their intentions and their exact strength."
"So it's back to patrols, then," Amazon Mbuto said.
"Unless one of you has a crystal ball that can show us where they're hiding," Blair said. "We're drawing up a full schedule of recon ops. I'm doubling the shifts by putting more fighters out at any given time, so I'm afraid we'll all be contracting extra duty for a while. Major Berterelli, I would like an assessment from you on whether we can adapt Green Squadron to take over point defense work. That would give us the Hellcats for other patrol ops."
"Range would be pretty short on Hellcats," Whittaker said. "They were never meant for long-duration patrol work."
"After our little scrap back at Tamayo, I started thinking about in-flight refueling," Blair told him. "A refueling shuttle with an escort of Thunderbolts could allow your whole squadron to operate over a normal patrol route. He shrugged. "We'd better see if the bombers can replace them before we talk about it further. At any rate, people, we've got to find out everything we can about the Empire's plans before they spring them. So make sure your pilots are sharp and ready for anything. When this thing goes down, whatever it is, we'll need to be ready. Dismissed."
* * *
Command Hall, KIS Hvar'kann.
Locanda System
Thrakhath lounged in his chair, his thoughts far away. The war was entering its final stage now, and soon the Terrans would be brought down like prey caught in an open field. That would be his doing, Thrakhath, Crown Prince, victor over the Terran prey, hero of Kilrah . . .
And some day soon his grandfather would be dead and Thrakhath's claws would grasp the Empire with a grip that would draw blood.
"Lord Prince . . ." It was Melek, his closest retainer bowing as he approached the throne.
"Your report, Melek," he said mildly.
"Lord Prince, the Terran carrier has been identified as the Victory. As you predicted . . . the ship that carries the renegade."
"The ship Sar'hrai failed to neutralize," Thrakhath added, showing his fangs. "It is of small consequence. The forces we are mustering now will guarantee the success of Unseen Death, no matter what attempts the apes make to intervene. But be sure to emphasize that all pilots must avoid contact with the renegade. I want no repetitions of the incident with Arrak."
"Understood, my liege," Melek said with a bow. "Lord Prince . . . we know that the new weapon will work. The field tests revealed that. Why do we not simply mount a raid on Earth now? It need not be a full-scale attack. All that is necessary is a single ship, a single missile, and the Terran homeworld is infected and wiped clean. That would shatter the apes, making them helpless prey under our talons."
"Not quite, Melek," Thrakhath said quietly. "Do not forget, we have attacked their homeworld before, to devastating effect, and yet done them only minor harm in the greater scheme of things. Our agents claim they have powerful new weapons in preparation now, weapons capable of destroying entire planets . . . even golden Kilrah itself. These weapons are not deployed around Terra, so a strike on their homeworld will only trigger massive retaliation. We cannot allow that to happen. I will not trade one homeworld for another, Melek. That would be disaster."
"But the loss of Terra . . ."
"Would mean less to the apes than the loss of Kilrah would to us," Thrakhath said, leaning forward. "You have not studied the humans as I have. You do not grasp their nature. If Kilrah was lost to us, we would suffer great harm. The Emperor, the heads of the great Clans, the ancient landholds and monuments of our people . . . these are what tie our race together, separate us from the animals. Take those things away and the Empire withers. But the apes are savages. Terrans would mourn the loss of their home, but it would not destroy them. They would continue to swarm in their multitudes, disorganized but still determined."
"Then can we truly win this war?" Melek asked. "If we are so much more vulnerable than they, do we have any choice but a glorious death?"
Thrakhath smiled. "We know only a little of their doomsday weapon, this . . . Behemoth, as they call it. Our agents say it is untested, but they have not been able to penetrate its secrets as of yet. We must draw out the apes; force them to commit their new weapon before it is fully ready, in a way we can control and manipulate. Unseen Death will be the first stage. By demonstrating our bioweapon and proving our willingness to use it, we will leave the Terrans no choice but to deploy the Behemoth."
"Against . . . against Kilrah?" Melek's look was one of horror and fear, but Thrakhath didn't reprimand him for his shameful display.
"Not at once," the Prince told him. "They will test it first. We will learn where the weapon is to be tested and we will discover its weaknesses. For this purpose we keep the Heart of the Tiger in readiness. And when we have destroyed their one hope of retaliation, leaving their Navy demoralized and confused . . ."
"Then Terra dies," Melek said softly.
"Then Terra dies," Thrakhath agreed. "The first of many human worlds . . . until their race is gone forever."
CHAPTER X
Thunderbolt 300.
Locanda System
It felt strange to be in the cockpit of a fighter and yet drifting free, without acceleration or preprogrammed destination. Blair had never thought of flying a Thunderbolt as a claustrophobic experience, not with all of space in full glory around him . . . but he was ready to admit that it could be cramped, constricted, and more than a little bit boring.
They had been in the Locanda System now for three days, operating frequent recon flights in search of some sign of the Kilrathi fleet. Today was the first time they had put up the Hellcats in a recon role, and Blair had elected to fly escort on the refueling shuttle with Flint rather than assign the job to one of the other Gold Squadron teams. The entire force, four Hellcats, the two Thunderbolts, and the shuttle, had flown together to this prearranged rendezvous point at the edge of the point defense fighters' maximum range. They topped off their tanks and set out in two patrols to sweep a wide arc before they returned. Then they would refuel and make the return trip to the Victory together.
Everything went like clockwor
k Blair hoped their luck would continue to hold.
The worst part of being alone in deep space for long amounts of time was the scope it provided for brooding. The lack of specific information on Kilrathi intentions and dispositions made for a game of hide and seek extending over an entire solar system, and it was a game where the Kilrathi had all the advantages. The idea that they might be planning a biological attack on Locanda bothered Blair more than he cared to admit. It suggested that the Empire was upping the ante by introducing the prospect of mass slaughter, possibly escalating to an all-out genocide. Blair had felt that, before, both sides had agreed on what "winning" meant. And now the Kilrathi might be trying to change that definition. If the Kilrathi turned to weapons of mass destruction on any major scale . . . the Confederation would have no choice but to answer them in kind.
But something else troubled Blair; something he hadn't shared with anyone, not even Hobbes. Given that the Kilrathi had this new weapon, and given the rumors that it had already been tested elsewhere, why Locanda? The system was practically worthless in any strategic or material sense, although its long-time position on the front lines gave it a certain sentimental and media prominence the place hardly merited. It was as if the Kilrathi had picked a place to wield their terror weapon which was most likely to attract Confed attention. It would be much more difficult for the High Command to seal off the system and black out the news, because Locanda was so well known to the Confederation at large.
A bioweapon attack here would be like a gauntlet thrown at the feet of the High Command; a challenge. . . but why hadn't the Empire chosen some system where they would win more than just a propaganda stroke? Tamayo, with its high population and important shipyard facilities, or the Sector HQ at Torgo, or any of a dozen other systems nearby would have made far more logical choices than Locanda. There had to be something more behind the Kilrathi campaign, but Blair couldn't fathom it.
He wasn't even sure that he was working from anything more than rumor, speculation, and fear.
"Hey, Colonel, tell me again how we're contributing to the success of the mission," Flint's voice crackled on the radio channel. She sounded bored.
"They can't all be free-for-alls, Flint," he told her, glad of the interruption. He didn't like the depressing turn his thoughts were following.
"You really think this latest sighting's going to pan out? I'll lay you ten to one that freighter captain was drunk when he logged that sensor echo."
The current reconnaissance effort had started after a report from a tramp space freighter of multiple sensor readings at the edge of his scan range two days back. It wasn't much to go on, but it was the only solid lead they had just now.
"No bet, Flint," Blair said, checking his sensor screen as he spoke. "I know better than to believe in elves, goblins, or reliable tramp skippers."
"You want to know what I think, sir?" Flint said. "I think some Kilrathi cap ships might've shown themselves to that freighter just to get us away from the colony. Know what I mean?"
"Any special reason, or are you just getting good at reading Kilrathi minds? I can get you a cushy job with Intelligence if you can tell what the cats are thinking." Blair caught a flash on his sensor screen. "Hold on . . . "I'm reading contacts at two o'clock, low, outer ring. Check me."
There was a pause before Flint responded. "Yeah, I got them. Three . . . no, four bogies, inbound. And I don't think they're our buddies from Red Squadron."
"Shuttle, power up and get the hell out of here," Blair ordered, "we'll cover your withdrawal. But keep in mind our guys will need a drink when they get back here, so don t go too far unless the bad guys break through us."
"Roger that," the shuttle pilot replied. Blair saw the twin flares as the boxy little craft accelerated away, gathering speed. "We'll relay word to Victory, too."
"Okay, Flint, let's welcome our guests," Blair said, bringing the fighter around and firing up the engines. "Keep close formation as long as possible, but remember the top priority is to screen the shuttle. You see somebody breaking past and heading his way, you nail the bastard, and don't stop to ask for permission."
"Don't worry, Colonel," she replied. "I hardly ever ask permission anyway."
* * *
Bloodhawk Leader.
Locanda System
"I read three targets, two fighters, the other . . . a utility vessel of some kind. It is moving off. The other two are turning our way."
Flight Lieutenant Kavark nodded inside his bulky helmet. The report matched what his own sensors detected. His patrol, four Darket off the Imperial carrier Ras Nakhar, was near the end of its scheduled pattern when the targets suddenly appeared at the edge of their sensor range. He promptly ordered a course change to investigate.
"This confirms my readings," he said. "Target computer says the combatants are Thunderbolt class: heavy fighters. We have the advantage of numbers even though they are better armored than us."
"Then the greater glory accrues to us for fighting them!" Flight Lieutenant Droghar responded eagerly. Kavark felt a surge of pride. The pilots in his section were warriors, one and all, and it only enhanced his honor to command them today . . . even if it was a hopeless fight. "What of the other vessel?"
"It is an unarmed shuttle, of no importance. We may safely deal with it after the escort is defeated . . . if anyone feels the need for target practice."
There were harsh laughs from the other three pilots. Kavark showed his fangs under his flight helmet, wondering briefly if any of them ever doubted their place in this war. "Ghairahn, you may have the honor of the first challenge, if you wish."
"Yes, Leader," Ghairahn replied. He was a young pilot, newly assigned to the section, but a distant member of Kavark's Clan. This would be his chance to earn his first blood in combat. "Thank you, Leader."
"Remember the instructions. If the renegade is detected, we break off the action. There will be no arguments, no loss of honor." Kavark paused. He knew they faced almost certain destruction by engaging, but honor demanded they fight. He would go through the motions, do all that was expected of him . . . embrace death with talons unsheathed, if that was what Sivar, the War God, demanded. "Now . . . for the glory of the Empire and the honor of Kilrah . . . attack!"
He forced himself to bare his fangs again in a savage smile as Ghairahn's Darket fighter broke formation and accelerated toward the enemy.
* * *
Thunderbolt 300.
Locanda System
"Here they come!"
The first Darket was at maximum thrust, bare seconds away from the Thunderbolt's weapon range. A second fighter supported close behind, but the other two, true to Kilrathi practice, had not yet broken their formation to join the battle. This gave the Terran pilots a brief advantage, since a Darket was no match for a Thunderbolt in a stand-up, one-on-one fight.
They made use of this advantage quickly. To cripple or destroy the first two fighters before the other Kilrathi ships joined the fray was the plan. If the enemy started swarming around either Terran ship with superior numbers, the odds could quickly turn against Blair and Flint.
Energy weapons blazing, the lead Darket dived directly toward Blair, not even trying to use evasive tactics. The pilot was either very confident or very inexperienced, Blair thought. He held off returning fire. Instead, he kept a target lock on the Darket while allowing it to approach so he could achieve the maximum effect from his weaponry.
"For the honor of my noble race," a computer-generated voice translated the Kilrathi pilot's radio call. "My claws shall grasp your throat today, human."
Blair didn't respond. He watched the Darket streak in, keeping one eye on the shield readouts. His forward screen took the full brunt of the Kilrathi attack, and the power level was dropping fast . . . maybe too fast. He rolled sideways, killing his forward speed with a hard reverse thrust that wrenched his gut. As the fighter slowed, he used his maneuvering thrusters to put the fighter into a fast spin just as the Darket, surprised by the maneu
ver, darted past with weapons now probing uselessly into space.
For a few brief moments, the Kilrathi's vulnerable stern was visible in Blair's sights. Smiling grimly, he powered up his engines again and opened fire with full blasters, adding a heat-seeking missile for good measure. "Curl your claws around this, furball," he said.
The volley cracked the Imperial fighter's rear shields and the missile flew right up the tailpipe. It exploded, and the fighter came apart in a spectacular ball of raw energy.
"You really nailed him, Colonel," Flint said. "Now it's my turn . . ."
She drove her Thunderbolt right into the guns of the second Darket, ignoring the withering fire her opponent was laying down. A moment later she spoke again. "Bye bye, kitty," she said. Missiles and beams leapt from her fighter's underbelly, and the Darket went up in a second brilliant fireball that momentarily dimmed the stars. "Never mess with a gal on her home turf! That makes nineteen, Davie . . . and more to follow!"
* * *
Bloodhawk Leader.
Locanda System
Kavark watched he destruction of Ghairahn's fighter with a curious lack of emotion, showing neither anger nor blood lust, nor even pride in the warrior's sacrifice. The second Darket's loss was the same; just another statistic in the long fight against the ape-spawn humans.
Sometimes it seemed that the conflict would go on forever. Once it seemed a great thing, a glorious thing, to venture forth in battle for the glory of Empire and Emperor and Clan. But the fighting continued endlessly, and though the Kilrathi had the advantage of numbers and sheer combat firepower, somehow the apes always managed to move from the brink of defeat to rally and overcome the Emperor's forces. The Terran spirit embodied a refusal to give in despite overwhelming odds. And their warriors, though outnumbered and outgunned, were superb fighters.