End Run Page 26

  There was a stunning flareup of light from forward of the airlock and the Kilrathi fighter disappeared.

  Through the fireball Jason saw a Rapier arcing up and away, attempting to shake off two Drakhri on his tail.

  "Something's not right here, sir."

  Jason looked over to a marine sergeant who had stepped in to take the dead officer's place.

  "We're getting readings of a fourth carrier, closing in from the other side of the asteroid field. IFF shows it to be Kilrathi, but it's not in our computer register."

  Jason went over to look, the wavery image suddenly snapping off, the holo image disappearing. The marine sergeant looked up.

  "We're blind, sir, all surveillance systems shot."

  "What about that other carrier?"

  "Last I saw she was coming out of her mine field in pursuit."

  "Helm, how are we?"

  "Losing speed, sir."

  "Close in the scoops."

  "Sir, we won't have enough fuel."

  Jason looked over at the helmsman's screen. Fuel was at less than five percent. With scoops closed they'd run dry within minutes.

  Another shudder ran through the ship.

  "Engine room reports impact of two missiles on the stern, one exhaust nozzle blown off."

  The damage control board was lighting up, showing red from one end of the ship to the other. Even as he watched, the neutron turret on the bottom winked out, its power cables shorting off.

  "Sir, rear turret reports Grierson's turned around and is heading back in on the enemy fleet."

  Jason picked up the communications officer's headset.

  "Grierson, stay with us!"

  "Grierson!"

  "Damn it, somebody get me a laser beam comm lock on Grierson!" The image of Grierson winked in and out. His friend's image was wavery, his mouth moving, but no audio was coming through. And then he disappeared as another shudder ran through Tarawa, throwing the laser lock off.

  The enemy fighters which had been circling Tarawa like a host of angry hornets turned back towards Intrepid.

  "Helmsman, can you bring us around?"

  "Steering is marginal, sir."

  Frustrated, Jason stood on the bridge, powerless to intervene.

  "Grierson!"

  "Outside radio links are dead, sir," the comm officer said, his voice slurred with shock.

  The marine sergeant now in charge of combat information was under the control panel, swatting down an electrical fire. A grainy, two-dimensional image came back up on line. The Intrepid was moving in on the cruiser covering the enemy carrier. Jason watched the screen as the drama was played out. A spread of torpedoes leaped out from both ships nearly simultaneously and at point-blank range.

  The two ships disappeared, and Jason lowered his head.

  "Sir, they didn't get the carrier but they sure as hell smashed the cruiser," the marine whispered.

  Jason nodded.

  "Carrier still coming on."

  Through the airlock a Sabre came in, sparks raining out from its port wing which was nearly torn loose from the fighter bomber's hull. The Sabre skidded through the fire retardant foam, slamming into the safety nets. Seconds later, without waiting for clearance in all the confusion, a lone Rapier came in as well, skidding down the deck through the foam, jockeying to one side of the Sabre, narrowly avoiding a collision.

  Jason looked up and watched as Doomsday scrambled down from the cockpit and raced to the bridge, Tolwyn behind him.

  Another explosion rocked Tarawa, knocking Jason to his knees as a second wave of fire swept through the hangar deck. He wasn't even sure where it had come from.

  He stood back up and looked at the situation board. Combat information was blind again, the nav station a shambles, the officer curled up by the console holding a badly fractured arm; tactical display was gone, all outside links down. The room had a surreal look, smoke filled, illuminated by fire and the red battle lamps, acrid smoke swirling about him. He felt a trickle of blood running down his face, but no pain, not even sure if the blood was his or somebody else's.

  The damage control chief turned in his chair and looked at Jason.

  "She put up a hell of a fight sir, a hell of fight."

  The chief hesitated, unable to say the words. Jason nodded sadly.

  "Prepare to abandon ship," Jason said quietly. "All crew to the escape pods. Helmsman, before you leave, try and bring her around for a run straight back on that carrier, but I want everyone off this ship when I take her back in."

  "Jason!"

  He looked up as Doomsday scrambled up the ladder onto the bridge.

  "Well, buddy, if you want to play out your death wish just stick around with me, otherwise get into one of the escape pods."

  "Damn it, Jason, the other carrier's closing in."

  "I know."

  "No, you don't. Didn't you get the tail end of Grierson's message?"

  Jason looked at Doomsday, not understanding.

  "Grierson knew you were finished, communications and defense shot, another hit and you'd be lost. That's why that crazy bastard turned back, to pull the fighters off and buy some time."

  "Well, we're going to join him," Jason snapped, "so either shut up or get the hell off this bridge. You keep talking about getting yourself killed; well today's the day."

  "Damn it, sir!" Kevin shouted, shouldering in past Doomsday.

  "That other carrier, it's the Concordia!"

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "It's Concordia! They masked it with a Kilrathi IFF transponder. Her fighters will be here any minute. She was broadcasting a message in the clear for us to hang on. Just hang on, damn it!"

  Stunned, Jason could not even respond.

  "Helmsman, can you steer us towards that other carrier?"

  "We've lost all outside data."

  "Well, damn it, steer to where you think she is and for God's sake don't put us in the asteroid field!"

  "Aye, sir."

  Jason stepped off the bridge and out on to the flight deck. Fires continued to sweep the bay, fire retardant swirling in a blizzard of foam. Directly beneath the bridge an emergency aid station was set up and dozens of casualties were laid out, med teams struggling to save the wounded, the ship's chaplain with them, kneeling over a dying marine and praying with him. As Jason watched, the chaplain made the sign of the cross and then pulled a flight jacket up over the marine's face and then went to kneel by the next casualty.

  Jason walked past the aid station to stand directly in front of the airlock door.

  He finally saw them, tiny pinpoints of light that within seconds took form. A squadron of Broadswords flashed by, torpedoes glinting evilly under their wings, escorted by Sabres and Rapiers. Four Rapiers broke off, circling around to take up escort positions; and on their wings were the markings of their ship—Concordia.

  "That old bastard Tolwyn wouldn't leave us out here to die," Jason said quietly.

  "I guess not, sir," Kevin said, and Jason looked over at the pilot and grinned.

  "I knew we'd make it," Doomsday said, slapping Jason on the shoulder and hugging him with exuberance, and for the first time in all the years that he knew him, Jason heard Doomsday laugh.

  "Yeah, sure," Jason whispered. "Me, too. I knew it all along."

  CHAPTER XII

  "So I am to take the blame for your failings and that of your decrepit grandfather."

  Prince Thrakhath looked up angrily, wishing more than ever that he had been allowed to simply kill the Baron. There was too much pressure from the family now against a blood feud, for though all were seeking blame for the fiasco, all of the royal blood also feared that the minor families might turn against them, especially now that the home fleet was crippled. Five carriers lost at Vukar, two so seriously damaged that it'd be a standard year or more before they would be active again, and then the loss of six more in the construction yard. Unthinkable, just unthinkable.

  "You at least are alive, not like R
usmak and Gar."

  "They were both fools and deserved to die. Vukar was a disaster. Gar was far too confident and eager to close. If he had held off and waited on the landing effort, as I advised him to do, he would have not been caught with his landing fleet out in the open when their fighters jumped us, unable to return in time to his transports. He died and deserved it, the tragedy is that forty thousand of our best died as well and we still have not retaken Vukar."

  "We don't need to now," Prince Thrakhath continued quietly. "We just received a surveillance report."

  "Confederation marines abandoned the planet this morning. They have left it a wrecked hulk, destroying everything before departure."

  "I told you from the beginning that it was a senseless campaign, launched to retrieve a ruined palace that a beggar would have turned his nose up at even before it was destroyed."

  "How dare you speak such of the Emperor's mother?"

  "I dare because someone must," the Baron snapped, and Thrakhath was shocked by his anger. For the first time in his life he had heard the normally effete Baron raise his voice in anger.

  "Your grandfather, my step-uncle, has led us into a disastrous war. You are too young to even remember that before this war started I warned that we should first seek an accommodation with these humans. Send our ambassadors in, establish our spies, lull their people with promises of our heartfelt desire for peace and disarmament, and then strike. One can always find fools who will listen to such drivel and do half your work for you—establishing friendship committees and lulling them with soft words. Easier to kill a fleet through lack of money because it must be spent on peaceful activities, than to have to destroy it in battle. You and your grandfather have never learned the inner truth that peace and war can be one and the same, the pursuing of a policy that in the end, no matter what the means, can lead to ultimate victory. All you ever see is the path of the sword."

  "That is now ancient history and the talk of cowards. The fact that you, a Kilrathi of the royal blood, could even think in such a way is beyond my comprehension."

  "Ah yes, our Kilrathi pride. We have never lost a war, we do not talk, we take what is ours, our rightful destiny to rule the stars. But now we have met a match to our pride. These humans are worthy of our study, and not our mindless disdain. It is only through knowing them that we will eventually defeat them."

  "Do you now whine for peace?"

  "Far from it. It is a war to the death, either them or us. But war must be waged with cunning and clear thought, which your grandfather lacks."

  "I will not listen to this treason."

  "Dare call it treason, cousin? Not if it prosper! I call it clear thinking. We believed them to be nothing but a warrior made of paper, one push and they would tear apart and float away on the winds of our storm. Well, they have endured over thirty years of war and within the last ten days have destroyed five of our fleet carriers and six which were nearing completion, a reserve which I remember you promising would be the strength that would bring this war to a conclusion before the year was out."

  The Baron walked over to a side table and poured himself a drink. He looked over quizzically at Thrakhath.

  "No, I will have none."

  The Baron hesitated.

  "It is not poison, my blood oath upon that."

  The Baron nodded and emptied the goblet.

  "Cousin, I know you not to be a fool. I know as well your ambition to be emperor. But I warn you, do not discount the cunning, the intellect, the warrior spirit of these humans. Too many empires in the past were destroyed by enemies whom they laughed at."

  "Is that all, Baron?"

  He nodded.

  "I do not go lightly into this exile. The truth of the real blame of Vukar and the fiasco at Kilrah will come out. This little exile buys me the time to indulge my readings of the ancient classics and the translations of human works which far too many of our people view with disdain. I'll have that, at least, along with my study of art and music. And I assure you, I will be back. I do not hate you, cousin, but I also think that you are no longer fit to be our Emperor if you allow that old shriveled up corpse to sit on the throne that either you must seize, or I will take. For if one or the other of us does not take it, someone outside the family will."

  "Get off my ship and I hope you rot in your exile."

  The Baron smiled.

  "The feeling is mutual, cousin. If you wish, though, I would be happy to lend you the scribe of my clan. He is most proficient in writing up rubbish that tells of stirring victories, his lies so convincing that no one ever discovers the truth. For that is how I see what we are doing. We live in a fantasy, and until that changes, until we study these humans and learn to think as they do, this war will drag on and on."

  With a mocking salute the Baron left the room.

  Prince Thrakhath stood up and went over to pour himself a drink as well, first activating the poison scanner built into his signet ring to check if his cousin might have slipped something into the decanter. It was clean.

  He nursed the drink, returning to his desk to review the casualty and damage reports. Any hope for an offensive to smash straight through to Earth and end this war was now lost, at least for the next year. It was again back to a bloody stalemate. Perhaps he could organize some form of a raid straight into the heart of the Confederation the same way they had done it. The Baron was right on that; they had to more closely study their enemy to learn how he thinks. That was evident in how he twice misjudged his opponent's intentions in battle.

  Yes, the Baron was right, as he almost always was on all things. That was why he was willing to listen, and that was why he feared him as well.

  "You damn fool, I should bust you straight out of the service."

  Admiral Tolwyn stood defiant in the middle of Banbridge's wardroom, a thin smile creasing his features.

  "Without my knowledge or approval you jump out, abandoning the mop-up after Vukar. You haul your butt straight into the guts of the Kilrathi system, placing a carrier at risk. Damn it, man, you are insane."

  "When we picked up that coded Kilrathi signal with the information that Tarawa had gone through jump point One-F, it was obvious that he had to come out at Jugara and I knew I could get there at about the same time—if I moved at once—and help pull them out. There wasn't any time to check with you Wayne. Your commlinks were all shot to hell from the battle."

  "Don't give me that bull," Banbridge snapped. He stood up and came around from behind his desk, coming up to Tolwyn and putting a finger into his face.

  "We won Vukar by the skin of our teeth. We lost the Trafalgar, and Gettysburg will be in dry dock for a year. That just leaves Wolfhound and Concordia for this entire sector and you take half of our assets and go gallivanting off. Damn it, man, you almost took our victory and turned it into a disaster."

  "But I didn't lose Concordia, and I did get Tarawa out," Tolwyn said quietly.

  Banbridge, his features beet-red, turned away.

  "You're a loose cannon, Geof."

  "But you can't argue with success, Wayne. We've dealt out a victory that reversed the tide of this war, at least for the moment. Vukar was brilliant; we took down six carriers—though I doubt that sixth kill claim—crippled another, destroyed at least four imperial legions, along with twenty other ships, a dozen or more transports and support vessels, for one carrier lost, one seriously damaged, and seven escorts." Then he paused. "And ninety-six good pilots. You did a hell of job out there."

  "Don't try and kiss my butt out of your troubles, mister."

  Geof laughed and shook his head.

  "We go back a long way together, Wayne. You know me better than that, so don't insult me."

  Banbridge turned to look back at Tolwyn.

  "What those kids on Tarawa did wasn't just the icing on the cake," Tolwyn said, "it was another whole damned cake. You just saw the holo playbacks. They killed six carriers under construction. Killing them in the hangers is a hell of a lot cheaper than
killing them in space and losing a lot of good pilots in the process. They smashed up their construction facilities, took down one cruiser, two orbital bases, four corvettes, and at least ninety fighter craft. But it's not just that. The moral impact is incredible. People are going nuts all over the Confederation, first Vukar and then word of this. Morale hasn't been this high since we took back Enigma. And think about it from the Kilrathi side. I wouldn't be surprised if they aren't on the edge of a palace coup, or at least a damned good purge."

  "And I'll be damned if we were going to leave them out there, Wayne. They made Vukar possible; we owed them a chance to get out alive. I just wish the hell I had gotten in there twenty minutes earlier to save Grierson."

  "Grierson saved your butt, too. If he hadn't gone in and slowed them down, they would have ripped you apart as well."

  Banbridge stalked over to his desk and grabbed a comm sheet and waved it at Tolwyn.

  "Damn you, I agree with all that about saving them. It's this that has my blood boiling!"

  Tolwyn grinned slyly.

  "To send out a false communication, under my signature, stating that Concordia was detailed for the rescue effort under my orders is fraudulent and a court-martial offense."

  "It makes you the hero of it all," Tolwyn said quietly. "Risking all to save the brave crew of Tarawa"

  "You've got me in a corner and you know it, Geof. I've just been recommended for a medal of valor with diamonds for this whole thing. You're slated for one as well. How the hell am I supposed to turn around now and say the whole thing was a massive act of disobedience?"

  "You can't, Wayne, and you know it. It's turned out all right. Everyone's a hero and history will record it that way. Hell, it'll be a holo drama playing in every theater within the year. I wonder who they'll get to play you? I can just imagine the scene when you look up from your desk and say, 'Geof, we've got to save those kids no matter what; the Confederation owes it to them. Go in there and get them out.'"

  Banbridge exhaled noisily and sat down on the edge of his desk.