Wing Commander #07 False Color

by William R. Forstchen

  "We don't own him, but I think Councilman Galbraith is the man. His son's a captain in the Navy, and they're both ambitious as hell. I'm sure they'd both be pleased if they could be the ones responsible for evening the score for that tender that was lost."

  "Not bad . . ." Mancini paused, a wolfish smile lighting up his own face. "Not bad at all, Commissioner. We can also use this to our own advantage, maybe help the plan along a little."

  "Oh? Tell me." Williams leaned forward again, intrigued. He'd been improvising his way out of a crisis, but it sounded as if Mancini saw something even better.

  "For months we've been doing our best to counter Kruger's claims of Kilrathi raiding by building a case for pirates operating on both sides of the border. Now we've had a demonstrable pirate attack on a unit of the republican fleet, and the people involved—Tolwyn, Richards, Bondarevsky, and so forth—are unimpeachable witnesses. All we need to make the case perfect is a real, live pirate base and a genuine pirate leader, Banfeld. It'll go a long way towards making our whole case for us."

  "Very good, Colonel," Williams said with a smile. "Excellent. If we could go a step further and stir up some political opposition to Max Kruger as a result of it all, we might even be able to sidestep the whole mess with the carrier at Vaku. Let them think he's been directing all his energies—and all the Landreich's resources—against the wrong opponents after all."

  Mancini gave a nod. "That's one option. As close to bankruptcy as Kruger's government already is, how do you think the Council would react if they found out what he's been investing in? The refit on that supercarrier must be costing a fortune. Their factory ship alone represents a major investment that ought to be earning its keep instead of producing spare parts for a derelict. Not to mention the money Kruger's been spending to bring in surplus ConFleet ships and high-priced outside talent."

  "Councilman Galbraith's the man to use, for this part of the operation as well as the other," Williams said slowly. "He's already miffed that Kruger's been bringing in people like Tolwyn and Bondarevsky. Makes his son's career that much less spectacular, and Old Man Galbraith's got political ambitions for his son the would-be naval hero. Probably figures on having Kenny win some spectacular fight and then beat Kruger in an election, with Daddy pulling the strings afterward. Might just work, if Kenny can manage to land the op that takes out Hellhole."

  "So . . . we leak what we know to Galbraith and let him ask some hard questions in Council about the carrier and some of the other rearmament policies." Mancini rubbed his jaw. "Do you think the Council will really pull the plug on him? The war party's still strong. Hell, Galbraith's no pacifist. He just wants to squeeze out Max."

  "It doesn't really matter what the final vote is," Williams said. "The point is, it'll slow things down all around. Kruger will be facing a political crisis and won't dare throw any more resources at the carrier until there's some kind of decision. And more delays give Ragark more time to get his plans in motion." He paused. "Sounds like our best plan. By God, Mancini, we might pull this off yet. Even if we did damn near lose it all to Zack Banfeld."

  Commander's Office, Guild Base

  Hellhole, Hellhole System

  2330 hours (CST)

  The door to the office swung open soundlessly, and the figure silhouetted against the lights out on the tarmac stood for a moment as if unsure of what to do next. After a moment he let the door close behind him and hit the locking stud. Only then did his fingers touch the light plate. When nothing happened he started to curse in Spanish.

  "Please, Antonio, such language," Zachary Banfeld said quietly. 'There's nothing wrong with the lights. I just overrode the wall plate from here." He tapped a control on Delgado's desk, and the lights came up bright.

  Delgado gaped at the laser pistol Banfeld held trained on him with an unwavering aim.

  "What—what do you think you're doing?"

  Banfeld smiled. "All your precautions, Antonio, and you didn't think that I could monitor your power usage, did you? When I found out you were making a hypercast so soon after our meeting this afternoon, I just had to know who you were sending to." He shook his head. "It took time to get the back traffic downloaded from the comm satellite at the jump point . . . and even longer to crack your codes. But once we had your message to Williams, well . . ." He shrugged, but the barrel of the laser pistol didn't shift at all. "Three days to bring the Highwayman's stealth systems back up to standard, eh? Imagine the shock when the work crew discovered that you had simply tampered with the control mechanisms, and the stealth generators turned out to be fine after all. I can leave tomorrow . . ."

  The traitor's eyes flicked toward the comm gear.

  "Oh, don't worry, I'm told we can produce an excellent computer simulacrum to keep your friends Williams and Mancini quite happy. You'll continue to make reports as needed." Banfeld paused. "I wish I didn't have to leave so quickly, Antonio. I'm sure a few days with our persuasion specialists will have you eager to spill everything you've given away about Guild activities. But I really do have to be on my way, so I'll have to defer the pleasure of listening to you scream until I get back."

  Delgado lunged forward, but Banfeld was ready for him. He fired the laser pistol, aiming for the big mercenary's knee. Delgado screamed once and collapsed.

  "That was just a sample. You'll find things will get much worse as time goes on, Antonio. Much, much worse."

  CHAPTER 15

  Revenger Pte Ltd"Never permit your enemy to learn your advantages, unless doing so can cause him to become fearful so that he stumbles during the chase."

  from the Ninth Codex

  21:05:10

  Bridge, Guild Scoutship Highwayman

  Near Baka Kar, Baka Kar System

  1034 hours (CST), 2671.017

  "Cloak is holding. All systems nominal."

  Zachary Banfeld nodded at the helmsman's report, his eyes on the tactical plot beside his command chair. The voyage to Baka Kar had gone smoothly, but Banfeld was still nagged by worries. How much had Delgado betrayed of the Guild's secrets? What was going on back in the Landreich while he made this foray into Kilrathi space? How would Ragark receive his information? Everything now balanced on a knife-edge, and he knew one wrong move could spell disaster.

  The trouble was, so many of those possible wrong moves weren't even his to make. That was what galled him most, not being in control. That had hardly ever happened to Banfeld before, and he didn't care for the feeling at all.

  The scout had managed the three jumps from Hellhole to Baka Kar in less than two standard days, a tribute to the high acceleration Highwayman could generate at need. With the stealth generators on, they had slipped past the Kilrathi picket boat at Vordran, where a whole locus of jump points located close together made the system a vital strategic link along the frontier of the Hralgkrak province. Now they were less than two light-minutes out from the provincial capital, still cloaked.

  Banfeld was still not sure how to initiate contact with the Kilrathi. He had never sent one of his smugglers to the provincial capital before, never faced the problem of dealing with so much naval traffic. If they were in a trigger-happy mood the Guild ship could be fried by patrolling elements of Ragark's fleet before he could get a message through, once the cloak went down. But he had none of the usual facilities for making contact with his links to the Economic Minister. The usual procedure required initiating contact at a remote outpost, but there wasn't time for that.

  He would have to hope the Kilrathi would give him time to talk rather than take Highwayman for a spy or the forerunner of an attack. All he had to do was get in touch with Ghraffid nar Dhores, and the Baron would do the rest.

  "Drop the cloak," he ordered. "Jonas, broadcast the hail. Broad channel . . . we want everyone to know we've got business with the Minister."

  "Broad channel," Jonas Hart, manning the communications station, confirmed.

  He continued to study the tactical monitor. The traffic in the system was making him edgy
, and he was sure there was something important he just wasn't seeing out there . . .

  Certainly there were plenty of Kilrathi ships orbiting the planet. On the way in from the jump point Banfeld had counted four escort carriers and their battle groups, an imposing fleet indeed to be assembled at one point. Assuming Ragark had garrisons posted at other worlds of the province, his fleet was going to be a powerful threat to the Landreich even if the carrier at Vaku was made operational. Perhaps he had worried unnecessarily about the threat to the balance of power, led astray by the paranoia of Williams and Mancini.

  On the other hand, that salvaged carrier had turned out to pack quite a punch, and with the support of the rest of Kruger's fleet it could still turn the tide against a Kilrathi task force made up of escort carriers. Banfeld would stick to his original plan.

  But there was still something that wasn't quite right about the readings they were getting. He continued to look at the monitor, especially at the symbols that described the main orbital docking complex over Baka Kar.

  He stared at the readout for a long time before it hit him. The mass was wrong, completely different from everything in their records on the facilities at Baka Kar. The docking complex was supposed to be large, but these figures were almost twice what they should have been. Banfeld ordered the computer to zoom in on the orbital dock so that he could study it more closely.

  It took a long time for the computer imaging system to interpret the sensor data well enough to comply with his request, and that wasn't right either. Something anomalous was out there, something that was distorting Highwayman's probes . . .

  Banfeld let out an audible gasp as the computer imager finally displayed a picture based on the collected data. Something massive really was over there, docked with the orbital facility. Something that dwarfed the spidery framework of the station. It was the biggest ship Banfeld had ever seen—if it was a ship, and that's what the computer was insisting. It measured nearly twenty-two kilometers in length, bristling with hardpoints and radiating an awesome amount of energy even when it lay quiescent alongside the dock.

  The Guild leader had only heard rumors about such ships, but now he was sure he was seeing the reality behind those rumors. A Kilrathi dreadnought, one of the vast and powerful warships Prince Thrakhath had ordered for the final solution to the war with Mankind.

  And it was here, with Ragark's fleet.

  Cold fear washed over Zachary Banfeld. He had wanted to help Ragark even the odds so that the war on the frontier might he prolonged and the Guild profit from the war. But a Kilrathi dreadnought made all the defenses of the Landreichers useless. Even their new supercarrier would be no match for such a powerful ship of war, whether they fully restored it to fighting trim or not.

  When the Kilrathi smashed their way across the border, the question of Guild profits would no longer be a factor in his plans. The question would be one of Guild survival.

  "Abort the mission," he ordered sharply. "Get us back the jump point. Best speed. And get the goddamned oak back up!"

  Reception Area, Orbital Station Asharazhal

  Orbiting Baka Kar, Baka Kar System

  1040 hours (CST)

  Ukar dai Ragark stood by the broad transplast window and studied the impressive bulk of the Vorghath, or rather the comparatively tiny part of him visible from this part of the orbital dock. Ragark had never seen one of Thrakhath's dreadnoughts, and merely reading over the specifications had hardly prepared him for the reality of seeing the huge ship in person.

  One such dreadnought could carve out a new Empire. The apes would never stand against his firepower.

  He turned to look at the crowd of ministers and officers waiting a respectful distance behind him. "Look at him, my friends," he said expansively, gesturing to encompass the great ship that lay outside. "Look at him! Vorghath the Hunter, come to lead us to victory. With this ship, we shall crush all opposition, and have our revenge on the apes for the Homeworld."

  As if in response to his declaration the boarding tube door adjacent to the window cycled open, and Dawx Jhorrad stepped through with an eight of his senior staff behind him Jhorrad was a short, thickset kil, half his face hidden by an extensive prosthetic plate that contained bionics to replace an eye and an ear lost in the first Tenn raid against Kilrah years ago. No one could have mistaken him for an aristocrat even if he'd born the honorific between given name and surname that marked a noble's rank. But despite being a commoner Jhorrad was a brilliant tactician, and his underlings, even those who were titled, would follow him to the Underworld and back at his slightest command.

  Ragark envied him his charisma, but he didn't allow that envy to warp his perceptions. Dawx Jhorrad was the perfect subordinate. He could never aspire to lead the Empire; he had to pledge his loyalty to someone else, someone of birth and land, and titles. That was why he had come to Ragark after so many eight-days of wandering. Ragark could give him the two things he needed—a purpose, and a chance to keep on fighting the apes he hated so passionately.

  "Captain Jhorrad," Ragark said, stepping forward and opening both hands in a gesture of greeting. "It is a pleasure to see you at last."

  Jhorrad sank to one knee and bowed his battle-scarred head in submission. "My lord Ragark," he said formally. "Permit me to pledge you my service. I offer you my claws and teeth, to rend your foes. I offer you my mind and spirit, to do your bidding. I offer you my eyes and ears, to seek out your foes. And I offer you my throat, to slash, should ever I be found unworthy."

  Ragark showed his teeth. The full Warrior's Oath, right out of the Codices . . . that hadn't been heard in the Empire for years, not after Thrakhath had revealed his irreligious nature to the nobility. Jhorrad did him the ultimate honor, pledging a form of fealty that placed him entirely at his new master's command.

  "Rise, Captain," he said sternly, recalling the proper formula. "I accept your pledge of service, your claws and teeth, your mind and spirit, your eyes and ears. May I never require to accept your throat, as long as you serve my hrai."

  Jhorrad stood. "I thank my Lord."

  "You have journeyed for a long time, Captain," Ragark said in a more conversational tone. "Tell me, how is Vorghath? When will he be ready for service?"

  "Many eight-days, I fear," the commoner said. "The ship was badly damaged when Kilrah was destroyed. We barely escaped the system. Since then we have had no place of refuge to make more than makeshift repairs, and Melek's ships have hounded us." He showed his teeth. "But even wounded, Vorghath taught those a lesson in respect, and Melek gave up the hunt some time ago. We need an extensive refit. New stores, a complete retuning of shield generators and fusion plants. Repair of battle damage to the hull. Replacements for crew members killed and wounded, and for those who have expressed a desire to be discharged now that their oath to the Emperor binds them no longer."

  Ragark almost responded with an angry remark about Warriors who abandoned their posts before their lords gave them permission, but he grasped the words before they were uttered. He was not the Emperor yet, and until he was acclaimed and seated upon the throne he would have to watch his step, even with commoners like Jhorrad. Especially with Jhorrad, who could smooth over so many possible obstacles that lay between Ragark and the throne.

  Before he could say anything at all, a warning siren sounded. Nerrag jag Rhang raised a commlink to his face and spoke urgently. Then he turned to Ragark.

  "My Lord, sensors have registered a ship of Terran design decloaking less than two light minutes from orbit. It is broadcasting a signal asking to speak with Ghraffid nar Dhores, and identifies the sender as a 'Zachary Banfeld.' "

  Ragark turned to face the block of followers nearby. "What is this about, Lord Ghraffid?"

  The Economic Minister looked abashed. "Lord, the Terran Banfeld is a renegade ape who works for his own profit. I have found it useful, from time to time, to have dealings with him . . . as a way of gaining access to information about activities on the other side of the frontier."


  Ragark studied him for a long moment in silence. "And of course my Economic Minister needs such intelligence from Terran space, to know what the price of raw meat and claw sharpeners is on their side of the frontier," he said, mustering all the sarcasm at his command. "Let me see, how often has this source of yours been mentioned in the frequent talks we've had regarding intelligence operations conducted by your Ministry?' He paused. "You have been dealing with a smuggler, a black marketeer, and the only reason I can think of for that is the desire to make profits of your own. Isn't that right?"

  "N-no, my Lord . . . I mean, not simply that . . ."

  "Never mind. I will deal with you later." Ragark made a dismissive gesture. "Your smuggler friend has arrived at a very bad time, I'm afraid. He has been in the system, under cloak, for an unknown period of time. Long enough, at least, to register the presence of the Vorghath here. This is information we cannot afford to let the apes have too soon." He turned back to Nerrag. "Order that ape ship intercepted and destroyed. We cannot allow him to pass on word of Vorghath to his people. And have this huckster arrested and held for trial. Now!"

  "More information, my Lord," Nerrag said, looking up from his commlink. "The ape has cloaked again. Last readings indicated he was heading for the jump point at top speed. Interception will be difficult as long as he remains under cloak . .

  "I know that!" Ragark snapped. "All right, if you cannot stop the ship, pursue it. Energy readings at the jump point should give a fairly good idea of when and where he goes. Dispatch a task force to follow the ape—the carriers Hravik and Klarran, and their battle groups. Some time he will have to decloak, and when he does I want him destroyed! And any other apes he comes in contact with, as well. See to it, Nerrag."