The cruiser lurched again, the red bridge lights flickering and then going out as power was interrupted. After a long moment a backup power source kicked in, but there were plenty of dead consoles around the bridge . and the ones that were still registering were lit up with warning lights.
"Heavy damage to the rear shields," her XO reported, gripping a stanchion with one hand and holding his earpiece communications link in place with the other. Commander Lindstrom's voice was matter-of-fact, as if he wasn't really a part of the chaos that had erupted on the bridge after that hit. Tereshkova's eyes flicked from one station to another, taking in the body of the FCO slumped across his board and the young commo officer kneeling beside his chair trying to give first aid.
"Armor's gone from sections sixty-four through seventy-one," Lindstrom went on. "Maneuvering drives are off-line. Fusion generator's still functioning, but we've got multiple ruptures in the power grid. Damage control crews are re-routing now, but we don't have weapons power until we get the grid hooked up again. Estimated repair time is ten minutes. Shields are still holding except around the bum-through point. Graham's deploying portable shield units to protect engineering from radiation effects." "Repair estimate on the drive?" Tereshkova snapped. Lindstrom looked grim. "An hour . maybe more."
"We don't have an hour, Commander," she said quietly. "Tell Mr. Graham----"
"We nailed him! We nailed the bastard!" The shout from someone on the far side of the bridge brought a wave of cheers from the stunned crew, and Tereshkova turned in her chair to study her monitor screen again.
The computer-enhanced image showing there was subtly different, but it took a few seconds for her fatigue-numbed brain to interpret what she was seeing. She raised her eyes to meet Lindstrom's again, and this time she had a savage smile on her lips.
"Her shields are down," she said. "She's helpless out there..."
"And us with no weapons power," Lindstrom replied with a frown.
"But without shields, Mr. Lindstrom, those Cats are going to fry in a matter of minutes," she said. "They're even closer to Vaku's weird star than we are, and that means they're getting a full broadside of radiation sleeting right through their hull as we speak. Unless they get their generators back on-line pretty damned soon, they're all dead meat over there . . . unless surrender and let us try to extend our own shields around them."
"Let 'em fry," Lindstrom said harshly. After thirty-five years of warfare people didn't talk much about compassion for the enemy. Not after the losses inflicted on Earth herself, or the plague on Locanda, or any of the other atrocities the Kilrathi had carried out over the
But Tereshkova shook her head. "We'll give them chance to surrender, Commander," she said. "Just think about the propaganda value of leading that big sucker in to port back at Landreich . with her surviving crew as prisoners. It'll be the biggest thing since Raigha nar Hhallas defected. Might give some people the idea it's worthwhile keeping up the fight a little while longer. God knows we've had few enough victories, large or small, to boost morale back home." She turned again. "Lieutenant, let someone else look after Mr. Martinez. Get back to your post and put a message out to those Cats. Surrender, and we will impose our shields against the star's radiation until they can get their damage control sorted out."
"Aye aye, Captain," the communications officer said. Tereshkova slumped back in her chair. It was almost over. . . .
Flag Bridge, KIS Karga
Near Vaku VII, Vaku System
1356 hours (CST)
"Surrender! Would the apes see us dishonored? Would you, Lord Admiral?"
Largka Cakg bared his teeth at the Fleet Intelligence Officer but did not reply. His eyes found Murragh, and he gestured his sister's son forward. "Status?"
"Shields are down and cannot be restored short of a full-scale overhaul, Lord Admiral," Murragh said. "Lethal radiation dosages will be reached within the next ten cycles; it is already too late for many in Engineering or who have already received significant doses of radiation previous to this. We still have maneuvering drive and limited weapons availability, but we cannot run from the radiation fast enough to save the crew, and we cannot fight the cruiser with the weapons we have left." "And the apes?"
"Damage assessment suggests they have lost their maneuvering capability. There would appear to be gaps in their power distribution grid. Their shields are intact except in their Engineering section. We have no way of estimating the extent of their damage, Lord Admiral, save by observation, and they may be holding
Largka cut him off with a claw-grasp. "Without other capital ships we cannot even abandon ship and hope to survive. Lifepods would shield us from the radiation for a few hours at best, but that would be insufficient without other ships to perform search and rescue. Nor do we have adequate powered craft to evacuate the entire crew with the launch bays out of action. A few lifeboats are all that can escape; the rest of Karga's crew will die without shields."
"Would you actually consider surrender to the apes?" Khirgh demanded, snarling.
"No, Lord Khirgh, I would not. Murragh, pass orders for the Cadre to evacuate in available lifeboats. Senior officers to remain at their posts, but get the designated Cadre out. The inner moon of Vaku is marginally habitable, and we saw Frawqirg heading there when they broke off the action." The Cadre-fifty specialist officers and petty officers out of the five thousand aboard the supercarrier----would survive to carry their individual skills back to the Fleet. "You will act as my deputy, Murragh," Largka added. "Take charge of the Cadre until you meet a senior line officer to pass the command to."
"But my place is here-"
"You are the last of our branch of the Clan," Largka told him. "You must survive to carry on the Clan's name and honor. There is no shame in obeying orders." There is no shame," Murragh repeated formally. "I obey."
As Murragh hastened from the flag bridge Largka slumped back in his chair, trying to control the reflexive movement of his fingers and claws. He did not want any of his crew to see him betray weakness at this of all moments.
By the God of War, they had come so close. And now the whole crew was condemned to a slow and agonizing death, because of a lucky shot by the ape cruiser. There was nothing left now but to let Karga end his service in glory.
"Helm, plot an intercept course with the Terran ship. Get us everything you can from the engines. We will ram the apes if that is the only way to ensure they don't see home again. Engineering, coordinate with the helm. I want self-destruct systems rigged to explode the ship as we reach the cruiser. Full destruct-reactors, ordnance, auxiliary generators, munitions and fuel stores . . . everything rigged to the computer destruct program."
"Yes, my Lord." The engineering officer looked shaken, but raised no word of protest.
"Communications, I will record a message." "Ready, Lord Admiral."
Largka paused for moment in contemplation before speaking into the microphone at his side. "This is Admiral Largka Cakg dai Nokhtak. Karga is the last ship of the squadron, and we have lost shields while passing close to an anomalous brown dwarf in the Vaku system. As a result, lethal dosages of radiation will soon render the ship's crew dead, something the apes who have attacked us could not do themselves."
He paused, seeing the orange jungles of Kilrah again in his mind's eye. One last hunt would have been pleasant, but the God of Was demanded otherwise. "Even in death we have a last chance to grasp the enemy in our claws. Our last surviving opponent appears incapable of maneuver, and I have ordered an intercept course. We will destroy the ship once it is close alongside the Terran cruiser, so we will not go to the afterlife without a proper escort of our dead and defeated foes. Weapons stations should continue to fire as they are able, until the end. We die for the glory of the Empire, and to honor the hero whose name our vessel bears. Remember the words of the Tenth Codex: Even in Death the can be Victory!"
He signaled to the communications officer that he was finished. "Have that announcement broadcast on all internal
comm channels," he ordered. "And send it by hypercast with the appropriate codes inserted, so that Governor Ragark knows Karga has carried out his final duty to the Empire."
"Yes, my Lord."
Largka contemplated his tactical monitor, content in the knowledge that his death, and the deaths of these valiant warriors, would not be in vain.
Bridge, TCS Juneau
Near Vaku VII, Vaku System
1400 hours (CST)
"God damn it, that bastard's changing course and powering up his maneuver drives!"
Tereshkova called up the tactical plot and quickly confirmed Lindstrom's report The Kilrathi supercarrier was changing vector, all right . . . and the projected course would bring them straight in to an intercept with the Juneau. "You don't suppose the Cats are coming alongside so we can extend our shields around them, do you?" someone said behind her. "Maybe their comm system's down and they can't accept the surrender offer."
As if in response energy pulsed from the carrier's forward turret. "If that's a surrender, I'm a Cat pacifist," Lindstrom said. The cruiser's screens handled the incoming fire, but Tereshkova could see that the shield reserves were getting weaker by the minute.
"What about the maneuver drives?" she asked. "Any progress getting them back?"
"Negative, skipper," Lindstrom told her. "Graham says half the section's fused together back there. We're not stepping out of the way on this one."
"Estimated time to course intersect?"
"Five minutes, Captain," the helmsman reported crisply. He might have been commenting on the weather back home.
"We can't blow them up . . . we can't get the hell out of the way." Tereshkova met Lindstrom's eyes. "Ever see any statistics on the survival prospects of a cruiser getting rammed by a supercarrier?"
He shrugged. "Not that I remember," he said with a sour, gallows humor smile. "And I doubt it would matter much if we could survive a collision. If that Cat over there realizes that his people are going to cop it from this weird brown dwarf's radiation anyway, he's liable to order the destruct systems armed. That way he gets us even if we don't collide. Probably takes out any last-minute lifepods we dump, too."
"Options?" Tereshkova knew what they were, but she had to hear Lindstrom confirm them. When the safety of her crew was at stake, she wouldn't overlook any possibilities.
"We sit here and fry," he said. "Or we pray for a miracle with the weapons or the drives . . . and fry if we don't happen to get it." He paused. "Or we sound Abandon Ship. Lifepods can handle the radiation for a little while, and if we deploy our shuttles now they should be able to round up most of the crew and get them to a safe distance before the dosages become critical. There'll be casualties. A lot of them. And long-term survival's another thing entirely."
"There's a habitable moon in this system. That's something."
"And a flock of Kilrathi, too. The fighters that were cut off from their hangar deck, and that escort that withdrew. They could still be a threat."
"They're a possible problem." She jabbed a finger at the tactical display. "That's a threat." She sighed.
"Sound Abandon Ship, Mr. Lindstrom. And download the navigation data on that moon to all the shuttle computers. Better make it fast—that Cat's not going to juggle his schedule just to let us finish the job."
"Aye aye, skipper," Lindstrom said. "Permission to take the bridge during the evacuation?"
"Denied," she said harshly. "You get to your lifepod. The captain's supposed to go down with the ship. I'll ride herd on the old girl while the crew gets clear."
She turned away from Lindstrom and studied the monitor again, unwilling to let him see the emotion in her eyes.
Slowly, ponderously, the two blips on the screen that represented the Terran cruiser and the Kilrathi carrier began to move toward one another, and there was nothing Captain Tereshkova could do to stop it
Flag Bridge, KIS Karga
Orbiting Vaku System
1413 hours (CST)
"Lifepods. The apes are escaping in lifepods."
Largka heard the anger in Khirgh's voice and wondered at the intelligence officer's blind hatred. Why did so many Kilrathi -- Thrakhath's followers in particular -- nurse such enmity for the Terrans? They were brave fighters, tenacious in battle even when the odds were against them. Hadn't the hero Karga himself won glory for honoring a brave but outmatched warrior who had challenged him in battle? Perhaps if the Empire had accorded a status higher than that of prey to the humans the war would not have stretched on so long.
"Let them," Largka said calmly. "They can burn slowly in the radiation of the brown dwarf, or quickly in the explosion of the Karga. Even if they escape, they will be marooned on the habitable moon, and some of our warriors are still there. We have achieved our purpose, regardless."
"At a high cost, Admiral," Khirgh commented.
"You would have preferred to evacuate with the Cadre?" That was a sneer. There were no political repercussions left for Largka now, no more need to pretend to support the Emperor, or Thrakhath, or their toadies.
"I know my duty," Khirgh snarled. "But you cannot deny the cost of this exercise."
"If your precious Prince had planned something more worthwhile than a mere raid to be avenged for what the humans on Landreich did at the Battle of Earth, if he had given us sound objectives and the forces we needed to achieve them, rather than sending us out with blunted fangs, this 'exercise' might have had a better outcome. But instead Thrakhath has thrown away this squadron as he has thrown away so many other warriors and ships, for nothing but his own vanity. One day it may be that he will throw away the Empire itself. And perhaps my sister's son will still be alive to claim the throne as the last surviving member of the branch of the Imperial hrai worthy of holding it."
"Treason!" Khirgh surged toward Largka, claws extending. "The Prince was right about your treacherous ambitions!"
Largka rose from his command chair, drawing his ceremonial dagger. His thrust met Khirgh's rush, and blood pumped from the intelligence officer's slit throat. Khirgh's claws grasped ineffectually at Largka's chest before Thrakhath's agent sagged to the deck. The admiral studied the body for a long moment, but there was no savor to the kill.
"Lord Admiral," one of the bridge crew said, voice a little unsteady after witnessing the short but savage clash between the two officers. "Lord Admiral, the cruiser's shields are failing!"
He jerked his attention to the monitor. Minimum sensors had been restored, and they could read the wild fluctuations in the energy levels powering the cruiser's defensive grid. A rapid string of energy pulses from Karga's forward batteries played across the Terran ship's bow, and suddenly the sensor readings showed the shields entirely down.
The next barrage tore through the Confederation ship like claws through soft flesh. On the main viewscreen he could see the rippling series of explosions as every system overloaded at once and the cruiser came apart.
So . . . there would be no collision, no need to count on the self-destruct system to ensure the Terran ship's destruction. Karga's foe was already dead.
But the countdown to destruction would go on. His ship and crew were already dead as well, thanks to the shield failure and the radiation sleeting through the hull. Best to deny Karga to those who might find him drifting out here, derelict, a prize to be claimed and dishonored.
With one foot he rolled the body of Khirgh away from his command chair and sat down once again. "Time to self-destruct?" he demanded.
"Two minutes, Lord Admiral." The voice was calm and resigned. There was one officer, at least, ready to meet a warrior's death.
The time passed slowly for Largka as he meditated over the familiar words of the Fifth Codex. Honor shall flow to the warrior who does his duty, for his Clan shall earn glory by his deeds. Honor shall flow to the warrior who meets death in battle, for his name shall be remembered. Honor shall flow to the warrior who strikes down his foe, for he shall win victory for his people . . .
"Eight se
conds . . ." someone said. Largka heard another crewman quoting the Codices, and felt a swelling pride within. They had all done their duty . . .
A long moment later he realized the count had passed zero, but nothing was changed. "Report," he snapped.
"The computer has gone off-line, Lord Admiral," the engineering officer said. "Self-destruct sequence cannot be completed. I do not believe we could even trigger it manually. There is too much damage to internal systems."
"Vraxar!" he swore. Was he to be denied the chance to take Karga out in one last moment of glory? Would he preside over a crew of the dead and dying, like the Wandering Conquistador of Kilrathi legend?
No . . . that was too much to ask.
"Communications Officer! Can you at least put me on internal channels? Or must I shout a message to the crew?"
"Internal channels, Lord Admiral."
Largka licked lips gone dry and summoned up the will to speak. "This is Admiral dai Nokhtak. Our self-destruct system has failed. The ship has won a glorious victory over the Terrans, but all estimates indicate that we have already received lethal dosages of radiation. Repairs are impossible without the support of a base or a fleet tender; by the time we could accomplish anything on our own we would all be dead anyway."
He paused. "Any crew member who wishes to take his chances in lifepods is welcome to do so. Some of our comrades may still be alive outside the ship and able to render aid. For myself, I choose the only honorable option, Zu'kara. Any who wish to do the same will do honor to their hrai, seeking a clean death in the moment of victory. Follow the dictates of your own consciences. That is all."
Largka sensed the emotion in the flag bridge. Zu'kara -- ritual suicide -- was the ultimate expression of the warrior's creed. The Kilrathi warrior took his own life if he or his clan stood to be dishonored, or to enhance honor when the odds were hopeless and there was no prospect of either survival or a warrior's death in battle. It was not a decision to be made lightly.
Wing Commander #07 False Color Page 2