False Colors wc-7 Read online

  Yet with the appearance of the Cats everything had changed. Now the humans were working together, and that Raptor pilot out there who might have accounted for one of Drake’s buddies earlier was now an ally to be saved.

  His beam weapons burned through the rear shields of the Dralthi and bored into her stern. A moment later there was nothing left of her except an expanding cloud of debris. Drake let out a whoop and started lining up his next shot. This sure as hell beat sniping at unarmed tenders or getting pummeled by overwhelming Landreich forces.

  The Cats realized their danger and broke in three directions at once. Muttering curses under his breath, Drake pulled right and increased to full power, trying to keep the more maneuverable Dralthi in his sights. He squeezed off several shots, but couldn’t maintain a target lock long enough to have any real effect.

  Then the Kilrathi ship he was chasing burst into flame and shards of hull plating as the pilot he’d rescued joined the party. “Whoever you are, thanks for saving my bacon back there,” the Raptor pilot said over the comm channel.

  “Glad to help,” Drake said, surprised to find he really meant it. “Check your low two. One of them’s heading in!”

  The Raptor turned slowly onto the new vector, and Drake’s Broadsword shot past him, opening fire again. But the Dralthi’s forward shields were better than those protecting the stern, and the Cat pilot made no effort to evade the incoming fire. Instead he fired back, soaking up everything Drake had to give him and countering with his own full-powered beams.

  Drake gave a cold grin. The Dralthi’s energy reserves didn’t cycle back to full power as quickly as a Broadsword’s did, and his forward shields were weaker. This Cat wanted to trade body blows? That was fine with him. “Goodbye, puss,” he said, tightening his grip on the trigger on his stick.

  It was only then that he spotted the second Dralthi rising from behind the first one, adding its own hellish energies to the onslaught hammering at his forward shields. He barely had time to register the fact before half-a-dozen alarms went off in his cockpit.

  After that, Winston Drake knew no more.

  Flag Bridge, KIS KLarran

  Jump Point Six, Hellhole System

  0829 hours (CST)

  Admiral Julgar nar Ta’hal could feel the cold claws of the God of the Running Death closing around his throat. “Where in the name of all the Gods are the cruisers?” he demanded.

  His aide had to grab on to the back of a chair to steady himself as another hit rocked the carrier. “Closing, Lord Admiral. They have already opened fire on that…ship. Whatever it is.”

  “Not enough…and not in time. Who would have conceived of the apes being willing to use a ship that size as a suicide vessel?” Julgar clenched one hand. “We were so close! But we cannot even carry out the original mission now. The Terrans have too big a lead. The scoutship will be out of our reach in a few more minutes, and then they will jump.” He paused. “And Ragark will have my throat.”

  On the monitor, they could see the slow but inexorable approach of the ship that looked like a transport, carried fighters like a carrier, but acted now like a deliberate sacrifice on its way to the altar. Bow on and closing, it was plain that it intended to ram, and the Kilrathi carriers vector was such that it would take a minor miracle to outmaneuver the humans.

  As Julgar watched, the cruiser Dravnor hammered the Terran ship. Explosions erupted along the vessel’s ventral surface, and a few of the kils in the flag bridge raised a victory chant. The Terran carrier was coming apart…

  Too late.

  “We have them!” Julgar’s aide shouted.

  “Wait,” was Julgar’s low-voiced reply.

  Out of the expanding fireball, eights of fragments, each the size of a heavy fighter or larger, were whirling outward. Most retained enough of their original vector to remain on a collision course with the Kilrathi ship.

  The chants had not died down when the first of those chunks of twisted metal slammed into the Klarran. The kinetic energy from the Terran ship’s terminal velocity was enough to overwhelm the shields, and as each subsequent piece hit home Klarran shuddered again and again, as if a hand of the Cod of the Running Death had reached out to shake the carrier like a child’s toy.

  Bridge, Guild Scoutship Highwayman

  Deep Space, Hellhole System

  0833 hours (CST)

  The bridge had been hulled several times, and the air was gone. Banfeld had his helmet on and his suit fully sealed, but it had taken time. He could feel the blood trickling from his ears and nose, and his throat had been burned raw by decompression. It was an effort to breathe. He suspected lung damage, but he wouldn’t know for sure unless he reached a doctor.

  Outside, an FRLN Hornet had latched on to the scout and taken her under tow, while two others flew escort in tight formation. Somehow the computer and the sensor imaging system were still on-line, though precious little beyond that was working on the bridge. Highwayman’s power was nearly exhausted, her fusion plant down, her engines and weapons as useless as the failed stealth system. The internal gravities were out, too, and bodies and wreckage floated weightless in the bridge. He spotted Jonas Hart among them, but he couldn’t recognize any of the other dead from where he was.

  The ship’s hull was twisted and shattered in a dozen places. She would never again fare among the stars, on Guild business or any other.

  Banfeld pulled himself back into his seat awkwardly, favoring an arm that was probably broken. He strapped himself down one-handed and stabbed at the controls for the sensor systems.

  On the monitor, an image of the Bonadventure sprang into focus. Tanaka had done as he’d said, steered her right down the Kilrathi carriers throat. As Banfeld watched she started coming apart, the pieces left from the multiple explosion ripping into the upper half of the Cat ship.

  “My poor, poor Guildsmen,” Banfeld croaked. “What have I brought you to?”

  The emotions battling inside him proved too much, and he slipped into the black pool of unconsciousness.

  Raptor 500, VF-84 “Liberators”

  Jump Point Six, Hellhole System

  0834 hours (CST)

  “That’s our cue! Break it off and head for home!” Tolwyn shouted the order as he peeled off, dodging a piece of the wreckage of the Guild ship. Behind him, the lead Kilrathi carrier was trailing atmosphere, a good chunk of her superstructure smashed by repeated hits from the remains of the Bonadventure. A massive repair effort would probably get her back in service in a few months, but she was of no use as a fighting ship for now.

  Of course, that left a second carrier and an assortment of cruisers, destroyers, escorts, and fighters, but Tolwyn knew he had a few minutes to regroup before the Kilrathi battle lust took over and they organized their pursuit. And meantime the damage to the carrier would certainly keep a few of the Cat ships occupied.

  The Liberators had done all they could. Whether or not it would prove to be enough remained to be seen.

  Combat Information Center, FRLS Independence

  Deep Space, Hellhole System

  0835 hours (CST)

  “The battle group has reformed around us, Captain. And the Flight Wing has broken off the action. They’re being pursued.”

  Galbraith looked across at Roth, biting his lip. They had watched the pirate carrier’s last act, and knew the Kilrathi had taken serious damage to one of their carriers. But their task force still outnumbered the Independence battle group in fighting ships, and their two carrier wings, though they’d suffered heavily in the fight with the liberators, outnumbered his remaining fighters by a wide enough margin to make them a serious threat.

  And Tolwyn didn’t have enough fighters yet to hold them for long. This time, if they decided to attack the battle group, there was nothing left to slow them down.

  “Order the battle group to retire to the jump point,” Galbraith said.

  “But, Captain…” Roth looked stunned.

  “Do it!” he snapped.
/>   At that moment, the ship’s Tactical Officer spoke up. “Disturbance in Jump Point Two,” he said. “Ship coming through from Landreich…now.”

  Out in space, a vessel took form as it dropped out of the hyperrealm. Galbraith was almost afraid to check the tactical readouts. The ship’s IFF beacon, hypercasting an exclusive ID signature, registered on the monitor almost immediately.

  “That’s Arbroath!” Commander Roth exclaimed, reading the information from her own board.

  Arbroath-previously the TCS Saipan, a sister ship of Independence only recent acquired by one of Kruger’s purchasing agents. Galbraith remembered his father’s acid comments about Max Kruger’s latest toy. She had been refitting in Landreich orbit when Independence had left, nearly ready for her space trials but far from prepared to go into combat. What was she doing here?

  “Incoming message, sir,” the Communications Officer announced.

  The comm screen lit up to reveal the craggy features of Max Kruger. “Independence, what the hell’s going on out here? I came to see what you found at the pirate base, and I’m reading Cat ships on my long-range sensors. What’s the situation?”

  “Mr. President,” Galbraith said, leaning forward. “Mr. President, you have to withdraw immediately. Our Flight Wing’s been cut up by Kilrathi fighters, and their task force outnumbers us heavily. I was preparing to withdraw to cover the capitol when you jumped in.”

  Kruger looked angry. “Withdraw? What do you mean withdraw? My sensors tell me one of those two carriers is damaged. And their own fighters must have taken some losses by this time.”

  “Yes, sir, but not enough-”

  “Listen, son, if they’ve taken any kind of losses at all they’re not likely to want to hang around now that we have two undamaged carriers and the prospect of fresh planes coming into the battle. Where’s Camparelli? He’ll understand what we need…”

  “He’s dead, sir,” Galbraith said. “He-”

  “Then by the power vested in me as Commander-in-chief, blan-blah-blah, I hereby take command of this task force. Have your battle group reverse course and head for those Cats, Captain!”

  “But, sir…I know you don’t have a full flight wing on board. You can’t! Not unless you put it aboard in the last couple of days…”

  “Nope. Not a one.” Kruger gave him a wolfish smile. “But, of course, the Cats don’t know that. Now give those orders, Captain, or I’ll have you relieved of command!” The screen went dead, leaving Galbraith to stare at the blank monitor.

  A feeling of relief swept over him despite the desperate situation they were sailing into. At least Kruger would bear the responsibility for whatever happened, win or lose.

  Command Bridge, KIS Hravik

  Jump Point Six, Hellhole System

  0838 hours (CST)

  “Terran reinforcements!” Captain Ghadhark nar Voiles snarled. “Another carrier…same class as the first.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” his Executive Officer said.

  “Any sign of supporting ships for the new arrival?”

  “No, my Lord. But the jump point is at the limit of our current sensor range. More vessels may be coming through, and we simply are not picking up the disturbance they would generate.”

  Ghadhark glanced at a monitor that showed the battered Klarran, with one of the destroyers drifting alongside and a swarm of small craft closing in to try to evacuate wounded and put over damage control parties. The admiral had gone off hypercast soon after the ape ship had been destroyed and the rain of fragments had started slamming into Klarran, and it was certain that the flag captain was dead. That left Ghadhark senior officer. The next moves were his to make.

  Ahead, the Terran fighters were withdrawing in disorder, pursued by Kilrathi squadrons who still outnumbered them by several eights. But the human battle group was changing vector, and the computer projections now put their course as heading straight toward the task force. The second carrier seemed alone, but it could be just the first of a whole wave of reinforcements…

  The apes had already crippled one Kilrathi ship today, and that would drive Ragark into a rage. More losses would only compound the disaster…and could not be laid at the admiral’s door, as the damage to Klarran could.

  And by now the apes could have received the information the scoutship had carried and spread it too far for the task force to be sure of stopping it from getting back to their capitol, Landreich. That part of the mission was a total write-off. Not that it would do the apes any good to know that Ragark had a dreadnought in orbit over Baka Kar. There was little enough they could do with that information.

  At this point, the best option was to withdraw. Even with the dreadnought, Ragark would still need all the carriers he could muster for the coming campaign. The dreadnought could overpower whole fleets of smaller ape ships, but only carriers could project Imperial force against several different targets at the same time. Ragark might rage at the decision to pull back, but additional losses would be by far the worse. Not just for the Empire, but for Chadhark s throat.

  “Order the fighters to return,” he said at last, knowing he had made the right decision. “And instruct the other ships to prepare for the return jump to Vordran.”

  Operations Planning Center, FRLS Independence

  Near Jump Point Two, Hellhole System

  1243 hours (CST)

  “I’m afraid we’ve lost close to half our fighters,” Kevin Tolwyn said grimly. “And a lot of the planes that came back are in a bad way. We couldn’t intercept a determined squadron of sparrows and be sure of winning the fight.”

  He sat beside Captain Galbraith at the big triangular table, looking across at Max Kruger and the captain of the Arhroath. A handful of other senior officers were present as well to bring Kruger up to date on the day’s fighting.

  “You did a good job, Commander,” Kruger said. “It must’ve been a tough call to make, joining forces with the pirate who was probably the guy who tried to take out your uncle. But you did the right thing. It was the pirate carrier that turned the tide, but they wouldn’t have gotten through without your fighters for escort. Congratulations are in order, Captain Tolwyn, for a job well done.”

  It took Tolwyn a long moment before he realized he’d just been promoted. Kruger’s off-hand manner made it seem like something of no great importance.

  Commander Hiro Watanabe, Independence’s Chief Engineer, stirred in his seat nearby. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did, Mr. President, I’m afraid things wouldn’t have turned out this well.”

  Kruger glanced at Galbraith with a look Tolwyn couldn’t quite place. Anger? Or contempt? “I wish I could say it was all part of my grand plan,” he said, flashing a smile in Watanabe’s direction. “But the fact is I wanted a first-hand look at this pirate base, so I ordered Arbroath out of spacedock for early spacing trials. She has a skeleton crew and less than two full squadrons of planes on board-most of those noncombatant types. Not much of a reinforcement. But of course the information that brought us here in the first place didn’t say anything about us needing reinforcements, did they?“

  Galbraith flushed. “The data on the pirate base was completely accurate, sir,” he said stiffly. “I don’t know my father’s source, but it was right on the money. How could we have predicted a Cat attack? For a while there it was starting to look like our problems really were with pirates, and not Ragark’s crew.”

  “Well, today puts that notion right out the airlock, doesn’t it, Captain?” Kruger shrugged. “These pirates have been a complicating factor, I’ll admit, but we’ve had plenty of proof of Cat activity for a long time. This gives us more. Maybe after today that fat-assed bastard Williams will listen to us. You have gun camera footage, Captain Tolwyn?”

  He nodded. “Plenty of it, Mr. President. But I really doubt there’s much point in taking it to Williams. You know he’ll just accuse us of faking it, like he did last time.”

  “Suppose you leave the politics to me, son,” Kruger said. “Si
nce that’s about all I’m allowed to do any more.” He paused. “What about Banfeld?”

  Commander Roth answered him. “The scoutship wasn’t worth keeping even for spare parts, but about half her crew survived. Including Mr. Banfeld. He’s in Sick Bay now undergoing treatment for decompression sickness. The Doc thinks he’ll be able to start singing in a day or two.”

  “Zachary Banfeld,” Kruger mused. “You know, I helped set him up with his Guild, way back in the beginning. Sounded like a damned good idea, letting the merchants provide their own protection. I didn’t even mind it much when he branched out into mercenary and privateering work. It was all directed against the Cats anyway. But now…damn it all, he could have been part of the team even yet. Instead, he turned on us. I’m getting heartily sick of having the people I’ve trusted turn on me.“ He looked at Galbraith. ”Next time you see your father, Captain, you tell him from me that his political party’s done more to undermine our chances of stopping Ragark and his crew than the pirates or even the Cats themselves!“

  “Sir?” Galbraith made a show of looking innocent. Tolwyn didn’t believe it.

  “Yesterday he revealed the details of the entire Goliath project to a closed session of the Council,” Kruger said. “His same unimpeachable sources at work, no doubt. At least he didn’t bring it up in front of the holo-cameras. If it went public, the Cats would know about it and any hope we had left of surprising them would be over. But he’s done well enough without letting the public get hold of it, damn him.”

  “What is it, Mr. President?” Tolwyn asked. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m accused of wasting Landreich resources and funds on a hopeless project, and it looks as if he’s finally going to get that vote of no confidence he’s been wanting for all this time. Before the month is out, odds are I’ll be out of office.” Kruger gave Tolwyn a wan smile. “You got any place for an aging navy man in your flight wing, son? I might be needing a job pretty soon.”