Wing Commander #07 False Color

by William R. Forstchen

  The bow of the dreadnought erupted in a fireball, hurtling debris outward like the discharge of a mighty cannon. Mjollnir's shields held against the battering impact of armor and hullmetal, but the indicators on Tolwyn's status board went red as Graham shunted extra power into the grid to compensate for the sudden unleashing of massive quantities of kinetic energy that threatened to overwhelm the whole system.

  Even that blast wasn't enough to destroy the Vorghath. With her whole front end open to space, spilling atmosphere through a titanic hole framed by twisted structural members and blacked hull plating, the dreadnought still rode on its maneuvering thrusters, trying to come about to give the undamaged midships turrets a crack at the gadfly that had stung her so badly. But though the ship was still capable of moving and fighting, it was clear to Tolwyn that the damage she'd just suffered had been devastating. Secondary explosions were rippling down her side, and the power readings tracked by Mjollnir's sensors had begun to fluctuate wildly. Even the Kilrathi redundant design philosophy couldn't build in enough alternate circuits and backups to compensate for such massive damage.

  Vorghath would live, but crippled. And with the damage the orbital dock had suffered in the battle it would be a long time before the Cats could manage to restore their dreadnought to anything approaching fighting trim. It would be a job that would make the heroic efforts they'd put in to refitting Mjollnir pale by comparison.

  The balance of power was restored. Ragark no longer had his superweapon, and without the orbital dock in working order he'd have trouble keeping the rest of his fleet combat-ready, too. That would give the Landreich breathing space, at least. And the delay would ruin the Belisarius Group's timetable for precipitating a frontier crisis that could give them their excuse for grabbing power in the Confederation.

  Now there remained but one thing to attempt, escape. Mjollnir had done her job as best she could. Now she had to win free of Baka Kar, against overwhelming forces of capital ships who were fully alerted to her presence now and no doubt eager to exact vengeance for the daring raid that had penetrated their defenses.

  "Maximum acceleration, Mr. Clancy. Course to the outbound jump point. Mr. Kittani, have the Flight Wing recalled immediately. Fighters to take station and screen us from pursuit."

  "Aye aye, sir," both men responded.

  Mjollnir surged forward at flank speed, but two Kilrathi cruisers were in pursuit, and both of them were fast enough to overtake her sooner or later.

  Two Commonwealth cruisers had nearly destroyed the carrier at Vaku, and then the Karga had been in reasonably good shape. This time, a few good hits could take her out of action, and there was nothing Geoff Tolwyn could do to save her if the Cats pressed home their attack. The only hope was Bondarevsky's fighters, but the fighting around the station had already cut deep into the Wings resources of planes and pilots.

  Tolwyn was running out of options, and Mjollnir was running out of time.

  Strakha 800, VF-401 "Shadow Cats"

  Deep Space, Baka Kar System

  1255 hours (CST)

  The Strakha nestled in tight against the Kofar resupply shuttle, and for a moment Bondarevsky could relax and take his hands off the controls. As fuel transferred from the Kofar's huge reserve tank, robot arms swung into position opposite each of the fighter's hardpoints with missile reloads. Slowly, carefully, they fitted the missiles into position. As each one snapped into place an amber light glowed on Bondarevsky's weapons control panel, and the onboard computer updated its visual display of his ordnance load.

  It seemed an eternity before the last new missile was in place and the fuel tanks registered full again, but in fact it took only a few minutes. Bondarevsky's was the last of the Strakhas to be re-armed and refueled. The others were already back in formation, covering the withdrawal of the carrier as the two Kilrathi cruisers strained to bring themselves into range to attack.

  For the moment it was a stern chase situation, and though the cruisers were faster and more maneuverable the sheer vastness of interplanetary space made it possible for Tolwyn to keep a few steps ahead, shifting his vector at random intervals and forcing the two enemy captains to play guessing games as to the carrier's intentions. But Mjollnir couldn't keep it up indefinitely. Soon, now, Tolwyn would have to begin decelerating in order to reach the jump point moving at a relatively low velocity when he engaged his jump drives. A vessel trying to jump while moving at high speeds risked overshooting its destination, or, worse, unbalancing the jump field and ending up breaking apart. Kruger had pulled it off at the Battle of Earth, but still lost several ships doing it. Chief Engineer Graham had already warned Tolwyn that the delicate balance of the carrier's rebuilt drives couldn't sustain any kind of high-speed jump attempt. So Mjollnir would have to approach the jump point losing velocity steadily, and that would give the Cats the opportunity they needed to use their greater mobility against the retreating ship.

  If the rest of the battle group could join them in time, they might be able to run interference against the Kilrathi pursuit. But Durendal had suffered heavy damage already, and there were several Kilrathi ships trying to come to grips with each of the three Landreichers. The odds would actually get worse as the human ships closed ranks. And they still had close to three hours to go before they reached the jump point. A lot could happen in three hours.

  The only other choice Bondarevsky could come up with was one last throw of the dice. Another concentrated attack on those closing cruisers with all the fighters remaining in the wing. It would mean more deaths among the Black Cats . . . but if it could save nearly five thousand aboard the carrier, then the trade-off would be only fair.

  "All systems nominal," he said aloud. "Ready to detach. Thanks for the drink and the handout."

  "All part of the service, friend," a familiar voice replied. Sparks sounded tired, but still game. "Don't go using all your new toys up at once, you hear?"

  "What are you doing on that Kofar, Sparks?" he demanded.

  "It was my turn on the rotation," she told him. "Yeah. Right. Aren't you the one who draws up the rotation schedule in the first place?"

  She didn't reply right away. "I just figured you shouldn't be the only one who gets to go outside and see the universe, that's all. You got a problem with that, flyboy?"

  "Just make sure you get back in before the fireworks start, Sparks. I wouldn't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

  "Thanks," she said. "And . . . you be careful, too. Come home safe. Not like last time."

  He flexed his bionic hand, thinking of Coventry. He'd been so caught up in the action today he'd barely noticed the wounded arm, or pictured that horrible day when Tolwyn's Behemoth project had come apart. If he survived today, would the memories of the pilots he lost here at Baka Kar haunt him? Or had he gotten past all that, taking up the Landreich's struggle?

  "Separation in ten . . . five seconds . . . three, two, one . . ." He released the clamps that held his fighter to the Kofar and dropped away under minimal thrust. Below and ahead of him, the rest of the flight wing was forming up. "This is Loki One," he said. "All planes form on me. We're going hunting . . . one last time."

  Flag Bridge, KIS Dubav

  Deep Space, Vordran System

  1308 hours (CST)

  "Decoys!" Ragark slashed the thick padding of his chair arm with outstretched claws, overcome by savage fury "All this time we have been chasing decoys! While anything could have been happening behind our backs, at Baka Kar!"

  The flag bridge's crew quavered under his angry glare. For nearly four hours the Kilrathi task force had been tracking signals that seemed to emanate from the carrier they had come in search of. They might have searched for hours longer, if a lucky fighter patrol hadn't picked up the electronic warfare craft at close range and moved in for the kill. Thereafter a second signal source had been spotted, and this time, knowing what to look for, the computer analysts had identified the trace as coming from another Zartoth.

  But Ragark had lo
st four hours chasing shadows, and time was the one thing he didn't have to make up.

  "Set course for the jump point to Baka Kar," he ordered. "Best possible speed. Now!"

  Combat Information Center, FRLS Mjollnir

  Deep Space, Baka Kar System

  1345 hours

  "Roll out! Roll out! I'll take him!"

  'Where the hell are you, Doomsday? You gotta get this bastard off my tail!"

  "Bombers, start your run. We'll hold these guys of as long as we can . . ."

  Tolwyn listened to the oommlink chatter, wishing there was something more he could do, knowing the pilots of the Black Cats were out there risking their lives to defend the carrier. Bondarevsky had thrown his fighters into the attack three times now, but the cruisers kept coming. And now they'd acquired a fighter escort, more of the aerospace defense force scrambled from the planet's surface. One of the two cruisers had taken a serious hit to its maneuver drives, and was beginning to fall behind now. But the other had closed the range relentlessly. It had already started taking shots at Mjollnir, and the shields were weakening in several sections.

  "You take the Darket, Lefty. I'm on this Dralthi."

  "Scratch another one. Hey, Babe, this is better than simulator target practice. They just keep right on coming!"

  "Shut up and watch your six, Lefty. I'm - shit! Shit! Where the hell did he—"

  "God damn. They got Babe!"

  Tolwyn closed his eyes. He remembered Babcock from the first days of Goliath. Competent, professional, a little edgy around the brass, maybe, but she should have had a promising career ahead of her. One day she might have commanded a carrier, even a battle group, herself.

  Now she was gone.

  "Cossack, make it look good," Bondarevsky's voice came over the commlink clearly. He sounded tense, but in control. "I want every one of those bombs to count. We're all down to our last loads, and these Cats are in too close to let us rearm on the fly again." "Understood," Commander Razin replied. "Pumas, follow me in!"

  Tolwyn looked at the tactical screen. Bondarevsky was making a last big push on the remaining cruiser, using the bulk of his fighters to engage the Kilrathi fighter screen and sending in the Paktahn bombers unescorted. It was a damned risky move, but if it worked . . .

  The cruiser opened fire on Mjollnir again. An alarm shrilled, and Kittani's hoarse voice rasped as he tried to shout a warning. "Hull breach! Hull breach! Aft superstructure! Get me damage control parties to decks three through seven to seal off those compartments! Mr. Graham, shields are down over the aft superstructure!"

  "I'm on it! Give me ten minutes!"

  "We don't have ten minutes, Mr. Graham," the Turk barked. "Make it five! And pray to Allah that won't be too long!"

  Strakha 800, VF-401 "Shadow Cats"

  Deep Space, Baka Kar System

  1349 hours (CST)

  A laser cut through space scant meters away from Bondarevsky's fighter, far too close for comfort. The cruiser's attack was directed at the carrier now, trying to exploit the advantage from that last hit. But this beam caught one of the other Strakhas in the squadron. It shimmered into visibility as it came apart.

  Bondarevsky gritted his teeth and pushed his throttle forward.

  The Paktahn bombers were releasing their loads in one massive, rippling salvo, trying to overload the cruiser's point defenses. Racing past them, Bondarevsky decloaked his Strakha as the point defense lasers opened up against the inrushing torpedoes. The rest of the surviving Strakhas appeared almost as one alongside, and opened fire at close range with their meson guns.

  The computer controlled point defense was already committed to dealing with the threat posed by the torpedoes, and couldn't reassess targeting priorities in time to stop the devastating attack. Concentrated energy poured down on the cruiser's raised superstructure. Suddenly, incredibly, the shields went down, and the meson beams broke through armor to penetrate the hull in five places.

  Aengus Harper bellowed the chorus to "Rising of the Moon" as he launched all his remaining missiles at the battered cruiser. Then the Strakhas were past her. As they turned, the cruiser's superstructure exploded, and the ship seemed to stagger in space from the fury of the blast.

  "Disengage!" Bondarevsky shouted. "Disengage!"

  Combat Information Center, FRLS Mjollnir

  Deep Space, Baka Kar System

  1351 hours (CST)

  A cheer went around CIC as the Flight Wing's attack struck home and the power readings from the last pursuing cruiser dropped to near zero in a matter of seconds. Tolwyn felt like joining in. Mjollnir would still have to run the gauntlet to reach the jump point, but none of the other Cat ships was placed to give them the same amount of trouble as that cruiser.

  A smile was just beginning to form on his lips as he started to phrase a congratulatory message for Bondarevsky, but it was cut short by a cry from the sensor technician.

  "Disturbance in the jump point. Multiple targets coming through . . ."

  Kittani leaned over the technician's chair to read the incoming data. "Multiple readings. I count four escort carriers . . . ten cruisers . . . twenty-six destroyers . . . configuration is Kilrathi. IFF beacons are Kilrathi . . . It's Ragark's fleet." He paused. "I guess Allah wasn't listening to prayers, today."

  Bridge, FRLS Xenophon

  Jump Point Three, Baka Kar System

  1404 hours (CST)

  "Multiple contacts! They're coming out all around us!"

  Admiral Vance Richards gripped the arms of the seat he had appropriated from a junior communications officer and leaned forward to squint at the tactical monitor over the shoulder of Captain Forbes. Xenophon had never been intended as a flagship, and lacked a flag bridge where he and his staff could have monitored bridge operations and directed the battle group at the same time.

  But even at his awkward angle he could read the displays well enough to recognize those newcomers as Kilrathi.

  The three Landreich ships had evaded their pursuers for perhaps the hundredth time since the start of their strange engagement, half battle, half dance. Only Bikina's Durendal had come close enough to take hits, and the wily little mercenary had shrugged off the pounding she'd taken as "a little dent in the finish." They had offered to join Tolwyn and Mjollnir, but the carrier captain had decided that would only draw more unwanted attention his way. So they'd formed up near the jump point, ready to start their whole evasive maneuvering all over again if the Cats made another try at them in the hours left before Mjollnir joined them and they could by to duck out through the hyperrealm.

  But instead, in an instant, everything had gone wrong.

  "Carriers are launching fighters," someone reported. "They must have been prepped and ready to fly the instant they got over their jumpshock."

  Forbes looked at the Admiral. "There's not too damn much we can do, sir," he said, sounding apologetic.

  Richards nodded. Caught at very nearly a dead stop, with Kilrathi ships all around them, they'd never win free. Durendal was a goner, too, no doubt about that. Her damage had included a couple of hits to her maneuver drive, and she would be hard-pressed to make good an escape. Collins in Caliburn might have a chance. She was the furthest out from the jump point, and if she acted fast she might be able to accelerate quickly enough to get clear while the enemy was concentrating on Xenophon. But of course the Cats could bottle the Landreichers up in the system as long as they maintained their position. Neither Mjollnir nor Caliburn was likely to escape in the end. There weren't even many jump points leading out for them to choose from. This one led to Vordran. The other two led deep into the Hralgkrak province, behind enemy lines.

  "Give them the best show you can, Captain," he said at length. "I want Ragark to pay for his entertainment."

  Flag Bridge, KIS Dubav

  Jump Point Three, Baka Kar System

  1407 hours (CST)

  "Concentrate on the cruiser," Ukar dai Ragark ordered. "The destroyer isn't important."

  "Yes,
Lord Admiral," the leader of the assault flight responded. The comm channel went dark.

  "General Order to the Task Force," Ragark went on. "All ships to remain immobile around the jump point until further orders are received."

  "Yes, Lord Admiral."

  It was usually poor tactics to let an opponent get an advantage in velocity, but in this case keeping the fleet in position was the best possible option. The apes would have to slow down as they approached the jump point, and when they did they would be sailing right into the guns of his task force. In the time it took them to get past, the human ships would be pounded into space dust.

  The humans would pay for raiding Ukar dai Ragark's world this day.

  Combat Information Center, FRLS Mjollnir

  Deep Space, Baka Kar System

  1412 hours (CST)

  There was dead silence in GIG as they watched Xenophon's last fight, helpless to intervene, helpless to do anything but watch as Ragark's fighters swept in and hammered the light cruiser. They had thrown up a heavy jamming field around her, too, so they couldn't even raise Forbes or Richards to speak to the men one last time.

  It came to an end far more quickly than Bondarevsky's fight with the two Kilrathi cruisers had. One moment Xenophon was still alive, lashing out at any craft impudent enough to approach too close. The next minute . . . nothing. The ship was just gone.

  And with it, one of Tolwyn's best friends. Admiral Vance Richards had been a good man, for all his faults, and Tolwyn would always remember him as a man of principle and honor. He had a flash memory of before the war, when they were both newly minted young gentlemen and together they had gone on their first mission.