End Run

by William R. Forstchen

  Tolwyn stood defiant.

  "That stinks to holy hell and you know it, Wayne. Just what the hell has happened to you?"

  "Would you feel the same about them if your only living heir to the family name was back here instead of out there?"

  . "Damn you to hell, Wayne," Tolwyn roared. "How dare you even suggest that?"

  "More than one has," Banbridge snapped in reply. "And if I hear another word I'll find some other admiral to run Concordia in tomorrow's battle."

  Tolwyn, enraged beyond the ability to speak, stood defiant, unwilling to back down.

  Banbridge's paging line started to beep and he picked up the headset next to his desk. He listened intently.

  "Very well, signal by laser link, all ships to maintain full radio silence but condition moved up to yellow."

  He put the headset back down.

  "Eight Kilrathi destroyers have just jumped into Vukar. Six have opened a bombardment of the planet, one is moving towards the jump point which we'll enter through to set up a picket, the other is holding station at the Kilrathi entry jump point."

  "It's started, their classic opening move," Tolwyn said. "Within six hours their main fleet will jump through."

  "You better get back to your ship, Geoffrey." He hesitated. "I'll forget what was said here."

  "I can't forget," Tolwyn said coldly.

  The two old comrades looked at each other for a moment.

  "Damn it, just get back to your ship. You know I didn't mean what I just said. I just wanted to let you know what some people who aren't all that friendly to you are saying about your desire to rescue Tarawa."

  Tolwyn nodded and started to turn away.

  "Geof?"

  Tolwyn looked back.

  "Damn it, Geof," Banbridge said softly. "We've been friends a long time. It's been twenty-five years since you showed up in my class at the Academy and first came to my quarters for that party where you met Elizabeth. I want our friendship to keep, no matter what."

  Tolwyn nodded and finally extended his hand.

  "Good luck Wayne, God knows we're going to need it."

  "Scared?"

  "No," and she sighed, snuggling in closer to his side. He realized yet again that the military didn't have to signal its rather puritanical values any more directly than in the way they made bunks. Two people in one was uncomfortable if not outright impossible. There was a standard joke about how once you made admiral you got an oversized bed in your suite to make room for all the people you slept with on the way up.

  "I'm just so sorry it's over."

  "We knew there wasn't much time to start with," Jason whispered.

  "There never was, lover. Not back in school, not out here."

  He felt his stomach knotting up again. Never had he faced the beginning of a mission with such a grim certainty that he would not be around at the end of the day. It was a strange feeling. To know that the universe would go on without him. That friends would still be here, would hear the words spoken, shake their heads and mumble a few lines about "poor Jason." There'd be a couple of sad but laugh-filled stories of remembrance, maybe one or two tears shed in private, and then they would go on with their living, their fighting, and their own dying.

  And he so desperately wanted Svetlana to live. That was the hardest part. She would go down as well this day. There wouldn't even be that to leave behind. At most, a short note in the home news bulletin, and another blue star for his mother, and hers, to hang in their windows.

  He felt cheated. So many others had their moment, to fall in love, marry, raise a family, leave something behind. Not him, and not Svetlana.

  He felt something damp on his chest, and knew that she was crying. She did it so quietly; there was no shaking, not even a muffled sob. Just silent tears.

  He held her closer, not saying anything, feeling the beat of her heart. The ship was all so quiet, the occasional voices in the corridor muffled, as if everyone aboard was holding a silent service for himself.

  "Svetlana?"

  The voice was soft, metallic.

  She sighed, reaching over the side of the bed to pick up her fatigue blouse which was on the floor. She held the collar up and pressed her insignia button.

  "Here, sir."

  "It's time, kid."

  "OK, sir."

  She dropped the blouse and snuggled back in against Jason's chest for a moment.

  "Merritt?"

  "Hum-uh. He told me to spend what time we had left with you; he'd call me when it was time to start suiting up."

  Jason put his arms around her and held her tightly.

  She returned the embrace and then ever so slowly pulled away. In the shadows he watched her dress and neither spoke. She sat back down on the bunk to lace her boots and then leaned over to kiss him one last time.

  "I'll see you at the end of the day," she whispered.

  "Yeah, the end of the day. Take care, love. Tell Merritt he's all right, and we'll be there to cover you."

  "Don't take any chances."

  Jason tried to laugh, but couldn't.

  "I love you," he whispered.

  "I've always loved you, I always will," and then she was gone, leaving Jason alone, to sit in silence, waiting for the signal that the final jump through into the heart of the Kilrathi Empire was about to begin.

  CHAPTER VIII

  "All pilots, man your planes."

  Jason looked over at the communications screen in the ready room. The young flight control officer was obviously agitated and on edge. The feeling in the ship was like a hot electric current. There was an almost hysterical aura of excitement over the fact that they were attacking the home world system of the Kilrathi Empire, mixed in with a sense of dread of what was coming.

  "All right people, good luck, good hunting, now move it!"

  The pilots came out of their seats, and started for the door.

  "Battle stations, all hands to battle stations!"

  The alarm klaxon echoed through the ship, the red emergency battle lights coming on in the dimmed corridors as Tarawa 's combat control system started to suck every available bit of energy for the shielding and guns.

  Jason looked back at the screen.

  "Scout report?" he shouted.

  "Starlight's reporting twenty plus Kilrathi fighters and three corvette-class ships on intercept approach."

  "All right, going to my fighter now, I'll hook back in with you there."

  He joined the rush down the corridor. They'd been on full alert when the jump into the Kilrathi system was pulled, but to his incredulous surprise only half a dozen fighters and one light corvette were covering the approach. The battle was over before he had even launched. He had then ordered his people to stand down, to conserve their ships, and their own stamina, until they were within attack range.

  Now it looked like the Kilrathi were coming out to block the way in.

  He reached the flight deck. The marine assault troops were loaded into their landing craft and the deck suddenly seemed almost spacious. Merritt, dressed in full battle gear, with a standard issue laser gun slung over his shoulder, stood next to his landing craft, which was squeezed into the slot where one of the lost Sabres had been parked. Seeing Jason, he snapped off a formal salute and then a thumbs-up. Svetlana was by his side. He almost wished that in a melodramatic scene she would rush up to stand by his fighter as he took off, but discipline held.

  She raised her hand in a wave that seemed almost childlike and sad. He waved back and then forced himself to turn away.

  He hit the ladder and scrambled into his cockpit.

  "Kick some fur butt, sir!" Sparks shouted as she pulled the ladder away and signaled for the tractor to pull him up to the flight line.

  "Tarawa combat control, what's the situation?"

  "One of our recon craft already lost. Starlight reports many, repeat many bogeys on sortie from the second moon, three corvettes approaching as well. Captain O'Brian has ordered our escorts to move forward and engag
e."

  That was standard procedure at least, but it bothered him that Grierson was not behind the Tarawa to sort of nudge O'Brian along.

  "Deck flight officer!"

  "Here, sir," and her image appeared on his comm-link display.

  "Push Doomsday up ahead of me on launch; I want at least one ship with torpedoes out there as quickly as possible."

  "Aye, sir," and she turned away to shout the orders.

  Jason switched back to the combat information center on the bridge to keep an eye on developments. His tractor pulled him up towards the flight fine and then came to a stop as Doomsday's Sabre cut in ahead of him, the squeeze so tight that for a moment he thought that their wings would hit.

  The crew was improving. He'd never have pulled a change in launch sequencing only a week or two before. But now that the heat was on they seemed to be moving like clockwork. The hot launch fighters went out the airlock, Mongol, followed by Round Top and Lone Wolf, and then Doomsday was moved up to the catapult. The Sabre snapped out and then Jason was moved into position.

  He leaned back as the launch officer pointed forward and he was out, kicking on full afterburner, leaping straight ahead to catch up to Doomsday. Switching over to Janice, he called in for a report.

  "This is Starlight. Pulling back fast, we've got at least twenty-five of them coming in hard, Dralthi, Sartha, a couple of Grikath, and three Kamekh corvettes!"

  "Any carriers?"

  "That's the mystery. Several of these fighters have ground camo paint schemes and no bloody carrier in sight."

  "Hot damn!"

  "I know. Damn it, Bear, we got within a hundred thousand clicks of the second moon before they finally scrambled. Kilrah was straight ahead a million and a half clicks away. God what an awesome sight."

  "Defenses?"

  "Full planet defense screening was up on Kilrah. A dozen orbital bases, their commlink channels going wild. But no carriers. I got a good scan of everything before they came off the moon."

  "Beam the info back to Tarawa now. Send it straight into Combat Information, set up a side band to Svetlana, and get it to those marines as well."

  "Got it going now."

  "Good work. Head back in, rearm for combat support of landing operations."

  Less than a minute later Janice shot past at full throttle, with only one wingman. Two down, Jason realized. Straight ahead he was already getting preliminary lock on the incoming wave and it seemed as if the entire screen had turned red.

  "Intrepid?"

  "Grierson here."

  "Why don't you break back, wait for more fighter support?"

  Grierson laughed.

  "Going in harm's way, son. We've got to keep them away from Tarawa."

  "We'll support. We've got one torpedo load, will take on their lead corvette," Jason replied.

  "Hot work there; why not hold back for more fighter support?" Grierson replied.

  "No time, Intrepid."

  Seconds later he shot past the two escort ships, moving in line abreast formation.

  "Doomsday, I'm on your port side. Pick your target and I'll support."

  "See you in hell," Doomsday shouted, and even as he spoke the first Kilrathi Sartha, moving as a forward screen, opened up. The shots were close, even when fired from maximum range and Jason realized at once that these were not second line pilots.

  Doomsday rolled his ship, kicking on afterburners; Jason followed suit. He heard Round Top, Mongol, and Lone Wolf calling out their targets as they waded into the head of the attack, trying to suppress Kilrathi defenses while the lone Sabre went in.

  The space around Jason was crisscrossed with laser and neutron blasts, mass driver shots, and dozens of missiles. Pulling in directly behind Doomsday, so that he could almost see the color of his tail gunner's eyes, he watched his screen as three missiles tracked in and started to close.

  "Missiles coming in!" Jason shouted.

  "Setting up torpedo lock on their corvette, can't break!"

  Jason watched the shots close in. When the warheads were within seconds of impact he popped off a spread of chaff and flares, two of the missiles detonating. But one came straight through. He pulled on afterburner and shot straight up as the missile, sensing the greater heat display of Jason's engines, followed, ignoring Doomsday. Jason pulled into a skidding turn and then shut down his engines to present the cold silhouette of the forward half of his ship. The missile streaked past and he breathed a sigh of relief. And then it started to turn back as well.

  He watched in horror as the missile weaved for a second and then picked up on the heat discharge still dissipating off from his engine nozzle. The furballs must have noticed that trick of turning and shutting down and reprogrammed their missiles to pick up on it. He started to fire up but knew that he was a dead man as the missile streaked straight in at him.

  The missile detonated so close that he felt the jarring blow and it was several seconds before he realized that Lone Wolf, in a brilliant deflection shot, had destroyed the missile that was closing in for the kill.

  "Good shooting, Kevin."

  "What I'm paid for, sir."

  Jason smiled and waved as Lone Wolf shot past, breaking astern to hold off the next wave of fighters. His knees felt like jelly and he took a deep breath, struggling to get calm and kill the gut-wrenching fear.

  "We've got tone! It's away!" Doomsday shouted.

  Jason rolled his ship and looked over his shoulder as a spread of torpedoes streaked away from the Sabre and leaped in towards the lead Kilrathi corvette. The corvette sent out a spread of shot and then turned straight in to present as narrow a target as possible. The torpedoes detonated across the bow, splitting the ship open and it disappeared in a silently spreading ball of incandescent fire.

  "Scratch one, Doomsday. Good shooting; now get the hell out."

  Doomsday continued straight in and Jason followed, shouting a curse. He felt an almost surreal sense take hold, as if instinct were guiding him. No longer even thinking on a conscious level, he weaved his way through the swirling engagement. A Grikath weaved in front, attempting to gain a lock on Doomsday and Jason fingered off a dumb shot missile round straight into the Grikath's tail, blowing the ship apart, and he slammed through the spray of wreckage, his shields shorting out from the high-speed impact. He felt a whoosh of air as his canopy cracked from the blow. A spread of torpedoes, outbound from one of the Kilrathi corvettes, streaked past, inbound on Intrepid.

  "You've got torpedoes inbound!" Jason shouted.

  The point defense system of the Intrepid kicked into action, sending out a spray of mass driver bolts, blowing two of the torpedoes apart, one of them striking a glancing blow as Grierson turned straight into the attack.

  Jason looked over his shoulder to watch and then turning back, yanking his stick into his gut as one of the Kilrathi corvettes loomed up directly in front, diving down in an evasive roll. The ship suddenly disappeared, hit by a spread of torpedoes launched from Kagimasha, debris ricochetting out in every direction.

  Breathing hard, Jason arced downward, kicking on full afterburner to avoid the wreckage, catching a brief glimpse of a Kilrathi, still alive, tumbling through space, arms flailing, mouth open in a silent scream.

  He looked around and realized that nothing was around him. He had lost Doomsday in the confusion and was now heading straight in towards the second moon.

  Nothing else was coming up.

  Was this everything they had?

  He switched through the commlinks. The third Kilrathi corvette was under heavy bombardment, most of the enemy fighters engaging the Intrepid and Kagimasha, with only six breaking on through to Tarawa where four of his fighters were holding their own while the rest of the squadron continued to launch.

  He aimed straight in at the moon and accelerated for a quick look.

  He pushed on in past the ten-thousand-click mark and down to five thousand, turning on his gun cameras, switching the image to his battle information screen.
r />   Damn, it was a massive shipyard, and he started to count off the construction slips and docks spread out across several hundred square kilometers. And then he saw them, six carrier dockyards, each one occupied by a ship in various stages of construction, well protected inside durasteel bunkers with overhead phase shielding. A spread of missiles appeared on his screen, fired by ground defense, a light patter of long range laser guns joining in. He started to pull back up. As he turned across the surface of the moon the home planet of the Kilrathi Empire came into view. It looked similar to Earth, a beautiful blue green sphere, hanging in the blackness. He was tempted to push on in but knew it was useless, and besides, there was a far more important target right here.

  He turned and headed back out, the missiles continuing in pursuit but far to the rear.

  "Tarawa Combat Information."

  "Tarawa here."

  "How goes it?"

  "Incoming fighter attack destroyed, lost one fighter, one seriously damaged."

  He didn't want to ask who was going to be scratched off the list.

  "Uploading additional information on the second moon. Found one hell of a fat and juicy target. Here comes the information; be sure to pass it on to the marines."

  He hit the upload and within a second a burst signal forwarded the data.

  As he continued to climb back out he passed through where the swirling battle had been, only moments before. Several Kilrathi fighters were still making sweeps on Kagimasha, which had taken a hit to its main engine. As Jason closed in, a wing of four fighters from Tarawa closed and within seconds the fight was over.

  "Grierson, you get the transmit of camera footage?"

  "Saw you going down, so I thought I'd listen in."

  Jason smiled. Grierson was definitely on top of things, the type of commander who knew when and where to listen and when to move.

  "We could set the furballs back months, maybe two or three years, balance the odds up a bit. Not just the carriers but the work yards as well. It's the best damned target I've ever seen!"

  "I'll start to soften 'em up."