Heart Of The Tiger wc-4 Read online

  "Agreed. What else do we need to know about?"

  "Captain Eisen's been bruising a lot of ears back at HQ about the flight wing's shortages. I've brought out authorization for you to requisition fighters, munitions parts, and stores from Blackmane Base before the last load goes out next week. They've got all types of fighters in mothballs there already, so that won't be a problem."

  "The real shortage is in pilots," Blair said. "We have nine empty slots to fill."

  "You won't get all of them, I'll tell you that much up front," Tolwyn said. "I've already spoken to the base commandant. You'll get four or five, no more. Sorry I couldn't do better." Tolwyn looked wistful. "I'd volunteer for a slot myself, but the admiral would never approve it."

  "I wish you could," Blair told him. "Well, four or five is better than none at all. Major Mbuto lost five ships at Locanda Four, so she'll get first call on any pilots we do get. I just hope to God it's enough."

  "It has to be, Colonel," Eisen said. "Now that we finally have a ray of hope that we might see the end of this damned war, it has to be enough."

  * * *

  Flight Deck, TCS Victory.

  Blackmane System

  "Okay, skipper, this one checks out too. Looks like those no-talent bums at Blackmane Base actually sent us some real fighters, and not just junk off the scrap line."

  Blair checked off the last of the new fighters on his portable computer pad and nodded. "I'll breathe a little easier now, Chief," he told Rachel Coriolis. "I was starting to think we'd never get the replacement fighters aboard."

  Four days had passed since Kevin Tolwyn was whisked aboard his courier ship to report to his uncle, and in that time, Blair's life became nothing but a string of petty frustrations. The worst problem was expediting the requisitions Tolwyn issued to Blackmane Base in the midst of the chaos and confusion which reigned during the last days of the base's closing process. But after many shouting matches over the comm channel, Blair finally got results. Now he possessed a full contingent of fighters in Victory's hangar deck, store rooms bulging with spare parts and stores of all kinds, and three new pilots to assign to Mbuto's interceptor squadron. It was progress, of a sort. But it had been slow going for a time, and Blair was worn out with the constant strain of it all.

  A tractor towed the fighter, a Longbow looking as if it had never been flown, toward a storage bay. The flight deck was bustling with activity, but for the moment Blair and Rachel were out of problems. It was a rare yet pleasant feeling.

  "Uh . . . skipper?" Rachel spoke with none of her accustomed brashness. "Can we chat? Off the record . . ."

  "Isn't that the way we usually do it?" Blair asked her.

  "Yeah," the chief admitted. "That's one of the things I like about you." She hesitated "And the fact that I do like you is why I want to say this . . ."

  "Spit it out, Chief," he said as she paused again.

  "You've got this . . . look in your eyes that I've seen before," she said slowly. "I had this guy, see? A pilot. One day he saw his wingman get fried, and he came in blaming himself for it. Didn't matter what I said, what anybody said, he was convinced he let old Shooter down."

  "And?" Blair prompted.

  A few days later . . . he took an Arrow out and just kept on going. Hit a jump point just as the Kilrathi were coming through. There were a lot of fireworks . . ." She trailed off, her eyes focused on someplace far away. "They never found him . . . not even a debris field. He might still be out there, for all I know."

  "I'm . . . sorry," Blair said quietly. "But. . . why tell me about it?"

  "That look in your eye, it's like the one he had before he cracked, skipper." She paused again. "You want to talk? I may be a lowly techie. but I've got a sympathetic ear."

  Blair didn't answer for a long time. "I had . . . have . . . someone, too. I don't know which it is, any more. She got caught up in some hush-hush mission, and nobody's heard from her for months. Maybe she's managed to sidestep the whole war-ditched in neutral territory somewhere. But I keep having these nightmares about her . . He looked away. "I keep thinking, one way or the other I would hear . . . only I haven't heard, and I'm afraid . . . you know."

  Rachel nodded. "I know. Maybe your gal and my guy found each other out there."

  He forced a smile. "Yeah . . . maybe so. At least they'd both be alive, then . . ."

  "Yeah, but on the other hand if I found out he'd been making time with some hot-shot lady pilot, I'd have to kill him myself when he finally got back." She managed a laugh.

  After a moment, Blair joined in. It felt good to laugh.

  * * *

  Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory.

  Blackmane System

  "Scotch," Blair said, perching on a stool at the bar. "Preferably something that's at least been in the same sector as Scotland, this time."

  Rostov grinned at him. "There's a war on, Colonel. You gotta take whatever they hand you, da?"

  Maniac Marshall was sitting further down the bar, studying a holomagazine and sipping at a tall glass of beer. He looked up as if only just noticing Blair's arrival. "Well, well, honoring the peasants with another visit, eh, Colonel? Shall I kiss your ring, or will a reverential bow be enough?" He mimicked the slight bow Hobbes often made.

  "Can't we have a truce, at least for tonight, Maniac?" Blair said wearily. "I'm not in the mood for sniping."

  "Hah! You looked like you were in a pretty good mood down there in the hangar deck today," Marshall said. "What's the matter, loverboy? You put the moves on everybody's favorite grease monkey and get yourself shot down?"

  Blair frowned. "I didn't 'put the moves' on her . . .

  "Hey, man, it's all right, really it is," Maniac told him with a grin. "I mean, even a high flyer like you has to have an off day now and then. Of course, I doubt it'd take a whole hell of a lot of high-risk maneuvering to get into her pants, but maybe you're just out of practice . . ."

  "So what's your excuse, then, Maniac?" Blair asked. "You must have tried out your usual wit and charm on the lady. Did you crash and burn?"

  "Yeah, right," Marshall said, looking away. "As if I'd waste my time on some punked-out little techie. Of course, you never did have any taste. First that snotty French bitch . . . now. . . . Wise up, Blaze-Away. There's a lot better to choose from on this tub than that cheap slut . . .

  Blair was out of his seat and beside Marshall in a single quick move. He grabbed the front of Maniac's uniform and hauled him to his feet. "Get this, Marshall, and get it good," he hissed. "You can talk about me any way you want to. But I won't tolerate you running down anyone in this wing, man, woman . . . or cat. And if you want to keep using that nose to breathe through, you won't ever insult Angel again . . . or Rachel Coriolis either, for that matter. You getting any of this, mister?"

  Maniac pulled back, freeing himself from Blair's grip and holding up both hands. "Whoa! Back off, man. He studied Blair for a moment. "Looks like you've got a real case, after all. Question is, which one's the lucky girl?"

  Blair took another step forward. "I told you to lay off, Major," he said slowly.

  "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It was supposed to be a joke, man. I'm sorry." Maniac turned to leave, then faced Blair one more time. "But listen to me, Colonel, sir. If you don't start loosening up pretty damn quick. you're cruising for a psych hearing. You're tighter than a vacuum seal and I wouldn't like to be around when everything blows out."

  "Mind your own business, Maniac, and let me worry about mine," Blair told him. "And in the meantime, just stay out of my way."

  CHAPTER XVII

  TCS Victory.

  Ariel System

  In due course, Victory entered the Ariel System, traveling by way of a jump point in the Delius Belt. Deep in the heart of the Caliban Nebula, the system had only one planet of any notable size, though there were many other smaller worldlets, asteroids, and similar junk in the system as well. Ariel I was never judged worthwhile as a potential colony, but Confederation Intelligence sources h
ad long identified it as a major headquarters for Kilrathi raiders. Previous Terran attempts to deal with the base met with little success, thanks to the strength of the ground-based defenses on the planet and the difficulties of mounting operations within the nebula. Long-range sensors were virtually useless, and even shortrange scans required more time, more power, and more computer interpolation than usual, which made for many extra problems.

  But the conditions also helped hide Victory from detection, as Eisen had explained during the original briefing. The Kilrathi maintained a network of detection buoys around the planet and near most of the jump points, but away from those the Terran carrier was able to avoid contact from everything except an extremely close pass by enemy ships. It was almost as good, Eisen maintained, as mounting a cloaking device aboard the ship.

  On the other hand, the sensor limitations cut both ways. Blair was forced to double patrols again just to sweep nearby space for Kilrathi shipping. It required some skillful flying to penetrate the web of detection buoys to put fighters close enough to Ariel I to conduct the surveys Headquarters needed. Over the course of nearly two weeks, the flight wing operated at peak capacity, almost without let-up, and the strain inevitably took its toll on people and equipment alike.

  Blair could only hope that ship and crew were up to the job.

  * * *

  Flight Control, TCS Victory.

  Ariel System

  Blair came out of the elevator next to Flight Control and nearly ran into Rachel Coriolis. She was clutching a personal data pad in one hand and a half-disassembled control module in the other, walking briskly with an air of distracted urgency. As she caught sight of Blair she made a face.

  "Can't talk now, skipper," she said, hardly slowing her pace at all. "All you fighter jocks were so damned eager to draw recon work. Well, now you got it, and that means us common techies have to bust our asses to keep you flying."

  "Okay, okay, Chief," he said, holding up one hand. "On behalf of the entire wing, I apologize. Next time HQ gives us an assignment, I'll tell them to clear it with you first."

  She grinned as she dodged past him and into the lift. "Maybe if us techs had a say in things you hot-shots wouldn't always be getting in so much trouble."

  The doors snapped shut, and Blair turned back to the entrance to Flight Control.

  There were only routine patrols out now no survey missions, so the chamber was manned at minimal levels. The relative calm in the room was a stark contrast to the scene visible through the windows overlooking the hangar deck, where technicians and fighter crews were hard at work on maintenance, repairs, and mission prep for the next batch of launches, scheduled to begin shortly. The bustle of activity would have been a scene of utter confusion to the uninitiated, but Blair recognized the order and purpose underlying the chaos. It was the dance of the deck, the almost rhythmic cycle that made any pilot's heart beat just a little bit faster.

  He became aware of another figure standing by the windows, intently watching. It was Cobra, wearing her flight suit and carrying a helmet under one arm. Blair was surprised to note her smile. It transformed her entirely, changing her customary bitter moodiness into a genuine look of enthusiasm and anticipation.

  "About time," he heard her say softly, as if to herself. "About time we showed them."

  "Lieutenant," he said quietly.

  She looked at him. "Sir?"

  "I don't recall ever seeing that before," he said. When she looked confused he continued with a grin. "That smile on your face. It looks good. Suits you."

  The wolfish smile reappeared. "It's good to be in their back yard for a change. I can almost smell them, Colonel. And with any kind of luck, I'll get a couple of them in my sights sometime soon . . ."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Well, being on the offensive seems to have helped bring you out of your shell, I'd say."

  "Scuttlebutt says we're here to scout the cats out for a real attack. That HQ has a weapon that'll blast them to hell, where they belong. I want to be here for the kill. I didn't become a pilot just to baby-sit bases and such."

  Blair frowned He supposed the spread of rumors about the Behemoth project was almost inevitable. Nothing stayed secret on a ship in space for very long it seemed, despite the best efforts of Confed security. He wondered if Rollins had been leaking information, or if this story started somewhere else.

  At any rate, at least this rumor was having a more positive effect on morale than some of the earlier ones.

  "Look, Cobra, I'm glad to see that smile, I really am, Blair told her. "But you've got to be pumped on every mission, not just the ones you like."

  "Point taken, Colonel," she said slowly. The smile had faded now. "Well, I guess I'd better get down to the launch bay. I'm up in fifteen . . ."

  After she left, Blair frowned at his own reflection in the window. For some reason he could never find the right things to say when talking to Lieutenant Buckley. Why couldn't he have allowed her to enjoy her newfound enthusiasm for Victory's current operation? Instead, he'd managed to deflate her just when it seemed she was ready to start letting down the barriers which kept her apart from the rest of the wing.

  Sometimes he wondered if he would ever really get a handle on his job.

  * * *

  Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory.

  Ariel System

  "Pull up a chair, Colonel, and join me. I'll stand you to the first round."

  Acknowledging Vagabond's greeting with a nod and a smile, Blair took the chair opposite him. Lieutenant Chang played with the inevitable deck of cards in front of him, and if the continual cycle of missions was getting to him it didn't show in his grinning face. The pilot might have been fresh from leave instead of unwinding after flying a survey sweep with Hobbes only a few hours earlier.

  "You must be getting pretty lonely if you want to buy your CO a drink," Blair commented. "What's the matter? You already clean everybody else out?"

  "Unfortunately, it doesn't take too long to get a reputation, if you know what I mean. And even the new chums from Blackmane caught on to me after a few days. Gets pretty tough to get up a game when everyone's afraid to take you on. Know what I mean?" Chang held up the deck. "C'mon, Colonel. Why don't you try your luck?" Without waiting for an answer, he started dealing.

  "Whoa, there, sharpie," Blair said, holding up a hand. "Don't I at least get to cut the deck?"

  Vagabond laughed and gathered in the cards again. "You'd be surprised how many rookies just ante up and look surprised when they lose the first pot."

  "Well, they deserve what they get, then." He took the cards from Vagabond and shuffled the deck with practiced ease, getting a reluctant nod of admiration from the Chinese pilot. "Me, I've been around. And early on I discovered the two things you never leave to somebody else: shuffling the cards and checking your ordinance."

  Chang accepted the deck from Blair and started to deal again. Though he was still smiling, there was a troubled look in his eyes. "This mission . . . you know there are stories going around about some superweapon. That's why we're supposed to be running recon.

  "You know, Lieutenant, that if the info wasn't officially released then I can't comment on it one way or the other," Blair said quietly. "Rumors are just that-rumors. Even if I knew anything, I couldn't talk about it."

  "Yeah, I know." Vagabond looked at his hand for a moment, then laid it on the table. "Look, Colonel, I know you can't spill any secrets, but the stuff I've been hearing . . . it really bugs me."

  "How so?" Blair asked. He laid his own cards aside and met Chang's level gaze.

  "Word is this weapon, whatever it is, will scorch a whole damned planet. A strategic weapon, I guess the brass would call it. And I'm not sure I want to be part of something like that."

  "Conscience bothering you, Lieutenant?"

  "Yeah, it is, Colonel. I didn't sign on to be part of something that kills civilians, whether they're people or cats or something slimy living under the rocks on Alphacent." Vagabond looked
down at the table. "Some folks take the war real personal, like Cobra and Flint. But that's not me. When I wax somebody out on the firing line. I like to think it's a fair fight. That he's got an equal chance to nail me. Pretty stupid, I guess, but that's the way it is."

  Blair nodded, understanding. He shared Vagabond's doubts. "Fact is, I understand you a lot better than I'll ever understand Cobra or Flint. The last thing you need in the cockpit with you is hate. And I think you really have to hate before you could go along with something as horrible as wasting an entire planet, civilians and all." He hesitated. "Look, secrets aside . . . if you've heard the rumors right, we're scouting for this new weapon, right?"

  Vagabond nodded.

  "All right, then, we're surveying a planet we know has nothing but a military installation on it. No colony. No civilians, or at least none who aren't involved in base operations somehow. Seems to me if there is a superweapon, HQ must figure on aiming at a military target."

  "Maybe so," Chang said, nodding but still looking uncharacteristically serious. "Maybe so." He paused "Still it bothers me a little. I mean, maybe they'd start with a base like this. But where does it end? HQ's got a real bad habit of labeling every target a military installation, even when they're not. So, what if we cross the line later?"

  Blair looked away, uncomfortable. He was thinking of Kevin Tolwyn's comments about Kilrah, and about the Covert Ops plan that apparently could only be used against the enemy homeworld. If the Kilrathi didn't comply with the threat posed by the Behemoth, where would HQ draw the line?

  And, more importantly, where would he stand if the next target did include large numbers of civilians? Just how badly did he want this war to end?

  He looked back at Vagabond. "Hey, we're the good guys, remember?" he said, forcing a smile. "We don't kill the innocents. That's supposed to be the difference between us and them, you know? Inwardly he felt like a hypocrite, but he couldn't admit his own doubts to Chang without confirming the stories about the mission.