Heart Of The Tiger (28 page)

"Come off it, you fur-faced son-of-a-bitch," Cobra snarled. "You mean to tell us you didn't know anything about this? I don't believe you!"

"I have been in Confederation service for over a decade, Lieutenant," the Kilrathi told her, drawing himself up with an air of quiet dignity. "Much has changed during that time, on both sides of the border. Perhaps this represents a breakthrough in jump theory."

"More likely in cloaking technology," Rachel said, stepping between them. "I don't think the Kilrathi can actually shut down a jump point at all."

"Hey, I wasn't hallucinating out there," Cobra said, turning her angry glare on the technician. "We all saw the first jump point drop right off our screens."

"Look, I've been studying cloaks," Rachel said. "The new Excaliburs are supposed to mount them. In theory a big enough generator could project a cloak that could mask out something as large as a jump point. But it would only work in a nebula, and it would be damned hard to maintain even then. That's what we were facing. I'd bet hard credits on it.

"Well, whether they can kill it or just hide it, the cats can mess up our jump points," Cobra said, a little less wild but still clearly angry. She stepped past Rachel and jabbed a finger at Hobbes. "And you claim you had no clue they could pull that?"

"No more than you, Lieutenant," Ralgha told her.

"You're a liar."

Blair stepped forward, thrusting himself between the two pilots. "That will be enough, Lieutenant," he said harshly. "Colonel Ralgha's loyalty is not to be questioned in this way again. Is that understood?"

"But. . ."

"I will not have a junior officer making wild accusations about one of her seniors. If you gather concrete evidence to back up your claims, then you see me, in private, through proper channels. Otherwise, you keep your mouth shut!"

"Yes, sir, she said at last.

"JUMP SEQUENCE ENGAGED. ONE MINUTE TO JUMP," the loudspeaker announced.

The elevator doors opened, and Cobra pushed through the semi-circle of onlookers into the car. Neither Blair nor Hobbes chose to follow her.

"And ten seconds . . . nine . . . eight . . ."

Eisen was determined not to betray his mounting tension as the computer ticked off the final seconds of the countdown to jump. What if the Kilrathi really could shut down a jump point? If they cut this one now, Victory would be trapped and totally vulnerable to the destroyers that were beginning to close in.

Or . . . what would happen to a ship initiating a jump sequence if the jump point failed? Would it remain in place . . . or end up trapped in hyperspace, unable to complete the transition to its destination?

"Three . . . two . . . and one . . . initiating transit. . . now."

He felt the familiar gut-twisting sensation of transit, and despite the nausea, muscle spasms, and the wrenching disorientation of the jump, Eisen was relieved. At least Victory had escaped the cats, whatever happened next . . .

The jump was over in an instant. Eisen had to blink and shake his head a time or two to clear the fog in his brain, but it didn't take long to regain control over his body, though every nerve was still protesting over the unnatural act of being flung across an unimaginable distance through a realm no human was ever supposed to enter.

"Report," he croaked.

Lieutenant Commander Lisa Morgan, Victory's Navigator, managed to sound alert. "Aye, aye, sir," she said, her fingers moving over her controls to call up a computer program that would analyze their surroundings and confirm that they had emerged on target. After a moment she went on. "Stellar type and data match within 99. 4 percent. No planets registering. Asteroid belts . . . it checks, Captain. Delius System . . . or its twin."

Eisen nodded slowly. "Very good. Commander Morgan, set course to Delius Station. Mr. Rollins, raise the local defense forces and let them know we're here. Secure from Jump Stations and resume in-system operations." He paused. "I want the ship combat-ready as soon as possible. After that, I want a full after-action analysis by all combat departments. We have to determine what the hell went on back there, before the cats pull it on us again."

His officers responded promptly, and Eisen felt a glow of pride. They'd been close to the breaking point, but somehow they'd kept on going.

In the end, that was the only thing that counted.

"The Terrans have withdrawn, then, Melek?" Thrakhath was lounging on his throne, feeling satisfied. A pair of destroyers had been lost along with a few fighters, and he intended to see to it that whoever was responsible for the losses paid the supreme penalty. But overall, everything went exactly as planned. The apes had been given a warning they would not soon forget. It would make them cautious for a time, and even if they realized that the Empire's ability to mask jump points was limited to nebulas they would surely shun this system, so the base where the Imperial Fleet would gather for Thrakhath's grand stroke would remain secure.

Now it was time to think of the next stage in the plan.

"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek said. "They have withdrawn into the Delius System. Of course, there is no way of telling how long they will remain . . ."

"Then we must act quickly, before they move on," Thrakhath told him, pounding the arm of his throne to emphasize the point. "Is it certain that the one called Blair is still assigned to the carrier?"

"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek acknowledged. "We monitored his voice on the comm channels during the fight, a perfect match to our files. He is the wing commander. According to recent intelligence, the renegade serves as his deputy."

"Excellent," Thrakhath said, showing his fangs for an instant. "Perhaps it is best that the human escaped our earlier attacks. We have the perfect weapon to use against him, and the results will leave these apes demoralized just when our blow is about to fall."

"You think, then, that the challenge will work, on a human? Their sense of honor is not the same as ours Lord Prince." Melek bowed low, to show that he did not mean to doubt his Lord's judgment.

"Oh, this challenge will work, I think," Thrakhath said quietly. "They do not have honor, Melek, but they do have pride . . . and anger. We will goad this ape into a foolish gesture, and at the same time . . ."

"The Trigger," Melek said.

"The Trigger. And we will have our claws at their throats once and for all." Thrakhath straightened. Pass the orders, Melek. Assemble the designated task force and be ready to jump within a cycle."

"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek withdrew, bowing again.

Crown Prince Thrakhath contemplated the stars that blazed through the dome above his dais. The stars that would soon belong entirely to the Empire.

"Reporting as ordered, sir."

"Come in, Lieutenant," Blair said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down."

Flint settled into the seat, her eyes holding a look somewhere between hope and wariness. "Thank you, sir," she said. "Ah . . . those were some good moves you guys put on yesterday, Colonel. Although I couldn't really tell everything that was going on . . . from Flight Control."

He smiled. "You don't need to drop hints, Lieutenant. I know it's been difficult for you, sitting on the sidelines."

"It's just . . . Look, sir, it just isn't the same, flying a console aboard ship. I belong in the cockpit. That's all there is to it. If you can't put me there, then transfer me to a unit where I can get a fresh start."

"You're pretty blunt, Lieutenant," he said. "Let me be the same. If I don't put you back on the flight roster here, it'll be because I have a problem with you flying. So you can be damned sure my report in your file would reflect my doubts. Don't think a transfer is going to get you back in the cockpit just because I'm not your CO any longer."

Her look was bleak, bitter. "I lost it, back at Locanda. I admit it. But I don t think that mistake should hang over me forever, Colonel. Watching those bastards slip past us, knowing they were going to spread their plague on my home that was more than I could handle. But it isn't likely to come up again." She managed a crooked smile.

"The stakes are less . . . personal, now. Is that it?" He kept his own tone serious.

"I guess so, sir," she said. "I hate to admit it. I mean, when I took my oath it was to the Confederation, not to any one planet. But Locanda was so much more real to me, when it went down. I could see it, in my mind: the places, the people. It made a difference."

"If it didn't, you wouldn't be human," he said. Blair studied her for a moment. She seemed too small, too fragile to be a combat pilot. "The problem is, you made me a promise once before, and you didn't keep it. Do you want to get back in that cockpit bad enough to follow through this time?"

"I can't prove that unless you give me the chance, Colonel," she said. "When I'm out there with that bird strapped around me and a cat in my sights . . . that's the only time I really feel alive."

Blair nodded sadly. He remembered Angel saying something like that once, back on the Tiger's Claw. I knew . . . I know someone who felt the same way. She lived to fight 'the good fight,' as she called it."

"For me, it's the flying," Flint told him. "I love the purity . . . nothing holding me back. Knowing I'm in complete control, for better or worse."

"Yeah," Blair said, nodding again. "Yeah, only a pilot knows that feeling."

"Well, Colonel, if you understand how I feel, then you have to know what I'm going through now. I wasn't designed for cheerleading from the sidelines, or playing traffic director in Flight Control. I'm requesting reassignment to flight status." She paused. "Please. . ."

"I don't usually give third chances, Lieutenant," he said slowly "But we could have used you out there yesterday. Next time we'll need you even more. You're back on the roster, effective immediately, Flint."

"Thank you, sir. . ."

He held up a hand. "But if you screw up again . . . heaven help you. Because I won t."

"Understood, Colonel." She stood up. "This time you won't regret it."

A jagged, irregular chunk of rock eighteen kilometers across dominated the view from the rec room. A few moving lights marked the passage of shuttles and service pods back and forth between carrier and asteroid. In the three hours since Victory matched orbits with Delius Station, a thorough inspection of the ship's hull and external fittings had already been completed, and the captain had authorized liberty for the off-duty watch. There weren't as many takers as might be expected — Delius Station was reputed to be one of the most boring stopovers in the sector — but there was a definite easing of tensions on board at the realization that they really were back in friendly territory at last.

Blair sat alone at a table, sipping his scotch and gazing at the planetoid and the star field beyond. In one corner of the room, Vaquero was softly strumming his old guitar, a quiet, mournful sound. Lieutenant Lopez had been certified fit for flight duty by the ship's Medical Officer the day before, and Blair restored him to the roster. But he still wondered if Lopez was fully recovered from the battering he had taken in the first clash in the nebula.

He heard Maniac Marshall call a greeting as he entered the rec room, and half-turned in his chair to watch the major at the bar. Marshall was his usual self, boisterous self-assured, wearing a broad smile as he took his drink from Rostov and waved an airy greeting to Flint and Cobra, who were sitting together at a nearby table.

To Blair's surprise, Maniac ambled to his table. "Colonel," he said, giving him a nod.

"Major," Blair replied. He waited a moment before going on. "Something I can do for you."

Maniac grew visibly uncomfortable, all his cockiness disappearing as he stammered a response. "Er . . . fact is, I wanted to tell you . . . I wanted to say . . . Maverick, that was a damned impressive show back at Ariel. The way you faked that first bunch out of position . . . and the way you kept your cool after the cats pulled their little magic trick." He looked embarrassed. "I know we don't always operate on the same frequency. . . but I thought I should give credit where it's due."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Well. . ." He wasn't sure how to respond. Maniac Marshall had never before made such an overture. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. It was touch and go there for a while, though."

"Yeah," Marshall agreed. "Tell me about it. When they made that jump point disappear . . . God, I almost lost it. I never thought I'd feel that way, Maverick. Never.

"You kept your head pretty well, all things considered," Blair told him. "We couldn't have nailed that destroyer without you and Flash."

"We could have taken her out by ourselves, if you and Cobra had let us," Maniac said with a trace of his old spirit. "But . . . yeah, it was a good score all the way around." He looked out the viewport and continued with a sour note in his voice. "You think Chief Coriolis was right about the Kilrathi using a cloak on the jump points, Maverick?"

"That's the official verdict," Blair said. "The analysis the captain ordered turned up sensor traces consistent with the use of cloaking generators. That's the report he ordered dispatched to Sector HQ."

"So we only have to worry about them pulling something like that in a nebula, huh?" Marshall looked solemn. "I guess that's good news, at least."

"It also means we won't be stuck, next time out," Blair said. "It might take longer, but we could use a cloaked jump point providing we already had it thoroughly plotted on our charts."