Major Fan concluded her remarks crisply, smacking the pointer in her palm for emphasis. "Longbow one-zero-one-four, commanded by Lieutenant Grigsby, fired a single Mark IV antiship torpedo. It struck the target vessel just aft of the bow strakes, destroying it. There were no survivors." She paused, concluding her remarks. "What are your questions?" She glanced at Captain Eisen, the Lexingtons division officers, and the wing's senior pilots. "None?" She turned towards Colonel Blair. "Sir?"
Blair stood and took the pointer. "What follows," he said to the assembled officers, "is my assessment of the attack on the convoy. I do not assert that this is what happened, only that this is what might have happened." He turned towards the wall projector behind him. "Lieutenant Carter, if you please."
Catscratch grinned from his control console. The room darkened to reveal a single dead transport floating in space. "You will note," Blair said, pointing the light at the enhanced still image of the hulk, "that whatever hit this ship blew portions of it from the inside out. You can see in this enhancement where portholes have been blown out, and have slagged back against the hull. That suggests some very high temperatures, rather than a garden variety explosion."
He switched to a second still. "The astro-navigation section did a wonderful job editing the gun camera footage, and Lieutenant Commander Garcias intel people did the technical work." He used the pointer to indicate several holes with outward puckered metal and ejecta. "Their conclusions," Blair said, "are that the transports were hit by some kind of missile that pierced the hulls. The weapon, through some process we don't yet understand, superheated the ships' atmospheres until they ignited. The ships literally burned from the inside out, giving these transports' hulls this distinctive gutted look."
He took a deep breath, aware he was about to leap from fact to supposition. "The actual damage requirement, as compared to a Mark IV ship-killer, is very low. They only need to cook the atmospnere, not disrupt structural integrity. That may allow the weapon itself to be fairly small, certainly smaller than a ten-meter-long Mark IV torpedo."
Carter switched the still to a graphic of the action while Blair took a sip of water. "The ship I followed back from the freighters to the frigate was moving too fast to be a bomber or a torpedo-armed heavy fighter. The weapon that killed these transports might be small enough to fit on a standard missile hardpoint. That would permit medium, perhaps even light fighters, to have a ship-killing capability. That fits with the speed characteristics I witnessed."
He waited for the murmurs of disbelief to subside before he continued. "There were rumors that the Kilrathi were working on such a project for their Strakha-class stealth fighters before the war ended. This might be an outgrowth of that effort."
Eisen spoke up. "Colonel, do you believe the Kilrathi are responsible for this outrage?"
Blair shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, sir, but it doesn't seem quite their style." He turned back to the still of the freighter, hanging dead in space. 'The Cats generally ignored transports as being beneath their notice, beneath contempt. When they did hit our convoys, they usually went after the escorts. Once they'd killed those, they would usually at least make an attempt to capture or board ships. Hobbes told me it was an expression of their predatory past, the glory of taking prey back to the lair."
Blair felt a jolt of pain at the mention of his friend and ally. It still hurt to mink that Hobbes had been a mere persona, a false personality overlaid on a Kilrathi agent to infiltrate the human ranks.
Eisen smiled thinly, drawing Blair back from his memories. Blair realized the Lexington's captain was softballing him questions, making the briefing easier on him.
"How about pirates, then?" Eisen asked.
Blair looked at his notes. "Again, sir, the lack of any apparent attempt to board and loot seems to argue against freebooters or privateers. They plunder for resources. Destroying ships gains them nothing." He paused. "The wantonness of the destruction suggests an act of terror, or war, rather than piracy." Blair stepped away from the podium, leaving his last words hanging in the air.
Eisen stood up. "Thank you, Colonel," he said. "We'll be beginning the briefings for tomorrow's move to the Tyr system in about twenty minutes. Why doesn't everyone get a cup of coffee while we get the podium ready?"
He gestured for Blair to join him. They walked together to the coffee urn staged in the corner of the room. "You don't do things by halves, do you?" Eisen asked, chuckling. He didn't wait for Blair to answer. 'The Tyr system is right on the edge of the Border Worlds. Tolwyn's made no secret that he thinks they're the culprits." He gave Blair a long look. "So let's just hope your war supposition is wrong. Otherwise, we'll be right in the thick of it, and in a nice, provocative fleet carrier."
Chapter Four
Blair sat in the heavily padded briefing room chair, trying not to doze while the Lexington's pilots assembled. He was gaining some insight into just how report-driven the peacetime Fleet had become. Training schedules, flight rotation rosters, fuel consumption reports, officer evaluations, maintenance schedules, and duty officer assignments all vied for his immediate attention. He felt that his head had barely touched his pillow before an orderly had awakened him to attend yet another briefing.
Maniac plopped down into the seat beside him, his flight suit open to the waist and a sardonic grin on his face. "Hey, Colonel, sir, I hear you had good hunting. There aren't many commanders who'd use half a wing to bag a frigate."
"One of these days, Major," Blair retorted, "that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble."
Maniac started to answer, but was cut off by a loud "Attention on deck!" They stood as Captain Eisen entered the briefing room, flanked by a small coterie of the carrier's senior staff members. The captain walked purposefully to the lectern.
Blair guessed from his grim-faced expression that they had entered the Tyr system to do more than "show the flag."
"At ease," Eisen said. He wasted no time in waiting for the pilots to get settled before he began. "This briefing is classified Top Secret, with violations for disclosure subject to penalty under Section 12 of the Security Act." He looked up at the pilots. "Now that we're past that, I can tell you that we have been reassigned to the Tyr sector for the purpose of handling a very ticklish mission." He turned towards the wall screen as the first graphics began to flow across it.
"The TCS Louis B. Puller, an assault transport of the
Pelileu class, has been assigned to extract a hostage currently being held by Border Worlds forces on Tyr Seven. The hostage carries diplomatic credentials and has been seized in violation of interstellar law. Our mission is to provide top cover, ground suppression, and tactical air support to the Marine contingent assigned to pull her out."
"Her?" Maniac said softly, sniffing the air.
"Hush," Blair whispered.
Eisen ignored the byplay. "The locals have accused her of spying and intend to move her out-system to stand trial for planning acts of espionage and sabotage. Confed Psychological Operations believes they'll try to milk the situation for propaganda purposes." He looked around the room. "Questions?"
A young captain sitting in front of Blair raised her hand. "Sir, does this mean we'll be operating directly against Border Worlds forces?"
Eisen took a deep breath. Blair heard the scratching of pens on knee boards cease. The room grew deadly silent as every pilot waited for an answer. Eisen placed his hands on the lectern. "The locals are not going to appreciate us launching a raid into their territory. They may move to interdict us in their space, or they may try to stop us from taking the hostage out." He paused. "It could get hot."
Blair frowned, unhappy with Eisen's answer. "What, then, are the rules of engagement?'
Eisen looked grim. "In the event Border Worlds forces react to your presence, then you may assume they will mount an aggressive defense. Under those circumstances, the commander, Third Fleet, authorizes you to initiate fire." He looked around at the sober-faced pilots. "No hazard passes
and no shots across the bow. You will fire first, and you will shoot to kill. That goes for fighters as well as ground defenses. That, people, comes directly from Admiral Petranova."
Blair saw several of the veterans exchange glum looks. Many had flown with Colonial pilots during the war, shared beers and beds with a quite a few, and had often made
fast friendships. The thought of exchanging laser bolts with former comrades gave them no joy.
Blair shared their reluctance. The "shoot to kill" order troubled him more than a restrictive "defensive fire only" would have. The presence of nervous, jumpy, or glory-hungry pilots on both sides, flying in close proximity during a crisis situation, was an explosive combination by itself. The free-fire instruction could be just the spark needed to touch off a pitched battle, or just possibly, a war. ' He shook his head. Great, Chris, he thought sourly, there's nothing like being an optimist.
"Well," Eisen said, unbending a little, "with that bit of cheery news, lets get down to business." He turned towards the display screen, while the pilots adjusted knee boards and notepads. The wall behind him lit up with a navigation map and a graphic of Tyr Seven. "The Puller," he said, using his pointer, "will use a company of Marines for the drop. They will be making a direct assault on this three-building complex, which has been code-named Orange in your briefing books. Our intelligence sources assure us that this is where the hostage is being held."
Maniac snorted and rolled his eyes in disbelief. Blair, who'd suffered through many similar assurances that turned out to be dead wrong, made no comment.
Eisen gestured towards the seated pilots. "The Lexington will be covering the Pullers assault lander." He used his pointer to trace the path on the map. "Colonel Blair will lead a section of eight Hellcats that'll pound the ground defenses. Major Marshall will command the top cover with four Hellcats and four Arrows. The mission'll be supported by two flights of Arrows on launch stand-by. A flight of Thunderbolts'll act as the Lexingtons ready group."
Eisen tapped the pointer against the screen. "Our job is to buy time for the grunts, both on the bounce and after the extraction." He smiled wryly. "It figures that the Marines aren't certain which of these three buildings the hostage is in, so you'll have to give them time to work."
Blair's sense of unease grew as he considered the implications of a live suppression nüssion.
Eisen glanced down at him. "You look troubled, Colonel. Do you have a question?"
"Yes, sir," Blair said, feeling compelled for his pilots' sake, to ask for clarification. "All this," he asked, pitching his voice to carry, "for one diplomat? Why the rush? I mean, we could end up in a pitched battle if we, and they, aren't careful." He paused to gather his thoughts. "I mean, have the implications of this been thought through?" Blair felt the eyes of the other officers on him.
Eisen looked down at his notes. "I'd like to try and make this a clean operation, Colonel. I'm more interested in getting our diplomat out than I am in kills." He looked up at Blair. "However," he said uncomfortably, "Third Fleet seems to want this to be as much a 'chastisement' for the Colonials as a snatch-and-grab operation. They want to show they won't tolerate confining or maltreating our diplomats."
Blair traded skeptical glances with Maniac. The Confederation had hundreds of diplomatic personnel on dozens of planets in the Border Worlds sector, most of which were well out of carrier range from the frontier. He wondered if the raid would trigger reprisals against diplomatic personnel on other planets. He considered pushing the matter further, then realized that Eisen wasn't happy with the situation either.
He surrendered the point by turning his attention back to his briefing book. It included maps and diagrams of known defensive sites, the locations and types of assigned Colonial fighter craft, recommended weapon load-out configurations, building floor plans. The wealth of information available on the target far exceeded what pilots usually received, indicating an extraordinary intelligence preparation. This was no ordinary mission. He paid very close attention during the rest of the briefing, troubled by the possibility that this time he was not flying on the side of the angels.
The launch sequence, form-up, and the approach to the target planet went without incident, in spite of his worries. His ruminations about the mission came to a head when they entered Tyr Sevens territorial space. Four obsolete Border Worlds fighters, likely performing leg patrols, scrambled to intercept the approaching task force.
"Lynx flight to inbound craft," said the Colonial leader, "you are crowding our reserved navigation area. Back off." Blair considered himself lucky he didn't recognize the voice.
"Tallyho," Maniac replied cheerfully, "four Ferrets in two-by-two diamond formation. Alpha flight—break and attack. Beta flight—stay behind the transport with me. Alpha, execute attack plan White."
The four Arrows peeled off, blasting their afterburners to close on the four startled Ferrets. One Ferret died at once, cut apart by an Arrows twinned ion cannon and lasers. The rest of the obsolete light fighters tried to scatter, but were out-performed by the newer, more heavily armed Arrows.
The last Ferret exploded less than a minute later. "Scratch four bogies," Maniac reported, his voice flat and professional. "Standing by to assume top cover. Its all yours, Green Leader."
Blair paused, looking at the spinning debris that marked the dead fighters. "Green Leader to Greens," he said, trying to ignore the feeling that what they were doing was wrong, "initiate target suppression."
He felt curiously detached as he watched the two flights of his section heel over on their left wings, each diving in sequence into Tyr Seven's upper atmosphere. The fighters' phase shields flared as they reacted to the thin upper reaches of the ionosphere.
He glanced to his right and saw the Marine landing craft's maneuvering thrusters glow briefly. The assault craft slowed below orbital velocity, tipped forward onto its nose, and plunged downward. Blair smiled grimly. He'd heard that riding a drop ship into combat was one of the roughest rides in the galaxy. The grunts were in for a rough trip.
He boosted his own thrust and corkscrewed his fighter into Tyr Seven's outer atmosphere. Telltales on his console began to wink as the fighter's skin heated. The Hellcat plunged downward, screaming through the thin ionosphere towards the security of the lower atmosphere. The sky above him shifted from black to blue-red and the horizon lost its rounded look. Vapor trails appeared behind the other seven ships as they bored in on the defensive sites indicated in their briefing packets.
The leading Hellcats began reeling off targeting data as they closed on their objectives. Their calm voices grew excited as they began to track inbound surface-to-air/surface-to-space Sprint missiles. Flares, chaff, and missile decoys blossomed around the diving ships. The first Sprint salvo missed cleanly, bursting amongst the trailing decoys. Blair hoped to be under the SSM's umbrella before the crews reloaded the launch rails.
He touched his throttles again, accelerating towards the ground. A blue-gray flare appeared from the woody terrain below, warning him of another missile launch. His cockpit warning chimed, alerting him to the warhead's lock-on. He wrenched the Hellcat over on its side and hit his maneuvering thrusters, accelerating his side-slip while he popped a pair of missile decoys into the space where he had been. He tumbled away from the Sprint, then increased his dive angle to recover control. The missile flashed by, looking like a white, metal-vaned pole as it passed.
He steepened his dive, watching his relative distance counter spin off numbers as it served as an altimeter. The flare cloud of the missile's launching site resolved itself into a full-fledged SSM battery, with a number of missile tractor-erector-launchers ringing a central fire control station. Blair thought the configuration looked suspiciously like a bull's-eye. He aimed his Hellcat at the center of the cluster, then switched his targeting reticule to lasers. The SSM site fired thermal and electronic missile decoys as he bored in. The self-propelled missile caisson stationed behind each TEL spat laser fire at him from their cab-mou
nted automated turrets. Work crews scrambled to load fresh missiles onto the TELs' rails. Blair found the airspace around him growing hotter as the lasers' fire grew increasingly accurate.
His reticule centered on the rightmost TEL. He placed his thumb on the firing button, then withdrew it as he remembered one of Maniacs old tricks that might allow him to disable the site without killing anyone. He grinned maliciously and punched his afterburners, accelerating into a powerdive onto the Sprint site. He pulled out at the last second, blasting over the TELs at treetop level at something better than Mach Two.
The rolling Shockwave from his sonic booms and roaring engines scattered the Sprint crews like ninepins, shattering windows and knocking equipment askew. Several crewpeople lay still, while others rolled and writhed, their hands covering their ears. One launch rail rotated and elevated in his direction, then fired a single missile, too far off azimuth for a lock-on.
The Hellcat raced into a narrow valley that served as an escape route from the Sprint site. Blair glanced back and saw small trees flying as the overpressure from the sonic booms tore them out of the ground and scattered them through the air. The valley slashed left and rightj narrowing quickly as he blazed down its length.
He quickly hit his braking thrusters, slowing to tactical speeds as he pulled up slightly from the valley floor. A second Sprint wobbled into the sky behind him, indicating the site was still active.
He shook his head. So much for non-lethal. He pulled his stick back, pulling the Hellcat up out of the valley and into a half loop. A quick rightward flick on the yoke pointed the fighter back towards the site. The Sprint crews fled their equipment as he aligned his sights on the nearest TEL.
Blair centered the first launcher in his sights and fired. His lasers chopped up dirt and terrain around the exposed hog, then plowed into the TEL and caisson. The Sprint on the rail detonated in a blue flash as its fuel cells exploded. The blast carried away the top of the TEL's armored cab. A massive secondary explosion engulfed the vehicle a second later, shredding it. He saw the circular compression haze from the explosion's overpressure topple the unprotected caisson and rip through the adjacent TELs.
The Price of Freedom Page 10