by Timothy Zahn
"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.
Prm-jevev turned his attention back to the monitors, a bitter taste beneath his tongue. Three of the Human-Conqueror warships had already been disabled in the handful of hunbeats since their part of the battle had begun, one of them burned virtually beyond recognition. The small fighter warcraft were being systematically destroyed as they continued to dart in and out of the fight, distracting his warriors, or worse, occasionally managing to knock out one of the Zhirrzh fleet's lasers. His initial reluctance to attack the poorly armed Yycroman civilian spacecraft had long since vanished, and the fleet was busily burning them out of the sky as well. To all outward appearances the Zhirrzh were winning.
But they weren't. Behind their virtually invulnerable hulls the mighty warships were slowly being pounded and shaken and battered into useless hulks. Already the secondary effects of the missile attacks had knocked out more lasers than the fighter warcraft had, and with every lost laser the odds of a given missile getting through rose that much more. It was a race to see which side would disable the other first... and deep within him Prm-jevev suspected the Zhirrzh were going to lose it.
But he couldn't pull back. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance of driving away the defenders and knocking out this center of Human-Conqueror power. And, if extraordinary good luck was with them, perhaps even eliminating the threat of the Human-Conquerors' terrifying CIRCE weapon.
And certainly not while five hundred cyclics of former Supreme Warrior Commanders were watching over his shoulder from the eighteen worlds.
An Elder popped into view. "Message from theImperative," he said. "Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit reports strong harassment from the Yycroman spacecraft, and that his systems are continuing to fail under Human-Conqueror bombardment. He states he cannot guarantee survival of the assault craft."
Prm-jevev cursed under his breath. Those Yycromae were incredible, the way they threw themselves to their deaths for such little gain. What in the eighteen worlds were they protecting down there, anyway? "Understood," he growled. "Message to theExonerator: have them move immediately to theImperatives support. Those heavy air-assault craft have got to get through."
"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.
"Helm!" Prm-jevev called across the room. "Shift course: twenty angles right, twelve angles beneath. Communicator: order our three air-assault craft to prepare for launch on my command."
"I obey."
Prm-jevev swore again, thoughtfully, as he studied the displays. Somewhere out there, there had to be a hole in the Human-Conqueror and Yycroman defense forces. Not big, certainly, but maybe big enough to slip the assault craft through before they could respond....
And then, suddenly, he heard a muffled gasp from behind him.
He spun around on his couch to find himself looking at an Elder. An Elder who was himself staring to the side in rigid and obvious horror. Prm-jevev opened his mouth to demand an explanation-
"Supreme Commander Prm-jevev!" one of the warriors shouted.
Prm-jevev spun back again. It was one of the warriors at the display console, and he was jabbing his tongue at one of the displays that showed the curve of the planetary horizon ahead of them.
And in the center of that display...
The Supreme Commander cursed again. And this time he meant it.
Another laser pulse flashed past, the beam slashing down toward the Corvine. Quinn twitched away-too late-and there was another burst of vaporized metal from the aft starboard flank. He felt the sudden heat on his thigh; a moment later the smell of freshly cut grass joined in the potpourri of aromas swirling through his head.That one took out the stardrive, Bokamba confirmed.No way for me to fix it.
Which meant that in the increasingly likely event that they were the only two Peacekeepers to survive this battle, there would be no way for them to escape from the system.Understood, Quinn said, trying hard to hide his growing frustration from his tail man. The area around Dreamer and Con Lady was starting to ripple visibly, the sign that their Corvine was getting into dangerously thick air. Even if he and Bokamba could get there without being vaporized, it was going to be problematic whether they could get a tether hooked on to the crippled fighter in time to haul it to safety.
Another laser flashed toward him. Quinn twitched again; but this time the beam didn't make it all the way, instead throwing a brilliant splash of vaporized metal from one of the Yycroman ships still buzzing around. Apparently the Zhirrzh had decided to concentrate on the closer Yycromae instead of on him.
He frowned. Preoccupied with the endangered Copperheads out there and the slow disintegration of his own Corvine beneath him, he hadn't been paying much attention to the Yycroman ships except when one of them happened to enter his immediate strike zone. But with little to do now but fly evasive maneuvers...
He pulled up a vector map first, switching the usual audio/visual cues into an overlay that could be distracting in the heat of combat but that at the moment wouldn't bother him. A high-speed replay of the past five minutes came next, drawing on both the Corvine's and theTrafalgar's recorders. Some of the Yycromae, he could see, were attacking the Zhirrzh ships directly, using shredder-bursts, cannon, missiles, and something that looked like white paint. A few others were hanging back performing long-range spotting duty for the attackers; fewer still were skimming right over the enemy ships' hulls, carrying out the dangerous task of close-in spotting.
But the vast majority of them were being vaporized by the Zhirrzh. And for the first time since the battle had begun, Quinn saw why.
They were running interference for the Peacekeeper forces. Moving in groups between the waves of fighters and the Zhirrzh warships, trying to block or confuse whatever sensors the enemy was using, helping the Corvines and Axeheads to get across the kill zone into combat range. Flying directly in front of missile clusters, diving suicidally straight into the Zhirrzh lasers and taking the blasts that would otherwise detonate the missiles too far from their targets.
And even sacrificing their lives to run a moving screen between Zhirrzh firepower and a lone Corvine on a quixotic rescue mission.
Quinn keyed for verbal comm. "Yycroman defense forces," he said, the sound of his physical voice a startling intrusion into the mental images and effortless communication of the Mindlink. "This is Corvine Three Omicron Four."
The answer came immediately. "This is Savazzci mey Yyamsepk," the Yycroman words came, already translated, along the Mindlink. "What are your orders?"
"I want you to quit protecting me and do your job," Quinn told him, focusing on the Zhirrzh laser bombers still heading toward atmosphere. Adept had gotten their Catbird moving again, and she and Hawk were attempting to pursue, but with only a single working engine their effort was clearly futile. Cooker and Faker were trying, too, but most of their sporadic bursts of 55 mm cannon shells were going wide. "Those laser bombers are getting away."
In the distance off to starboard the Zhirrzh ship seemed suddenly to have become fully aware of Quinn's presence, and the space around them began to shimmer with the ionization afterglow of laser shots. Most skimmed harmlessly past as Quinn kept the fighter dipping and swerving in a semirandom evasion pattern. One caught one of Savazzci's screening ships, turning it into a blazing fireball.
"We are doing our job," the stiff-sounding retort came. "We aren't swift enough to catch them. We protect you in the hope that you can do so."
Quinn grimaced, dropping an extrapolation overlay on top of the vector map. The Corvine's dead dorsal engine plus the hefty lead the laser bombers had on them...
We can do it,Bokamba told him.A drop-J curve through the atmosphere will get us to an intercept point.
Quinn studied the curve that had appeared on his extrapolation overlay. It was a tricky maneuver, all right, a modified version of the approach he'd used when he and Aric Cavanagh had dived down from near orbit to snatch Pheylan from his Zhirrzh captors.
But in that situation he'd been fly
ing an undamaged fighter through skies unpunctuated by heavy enemy fire. Here pulling such a stunt would be begging for gradient instabilities or turbulent control loss. There was probably no better than a fifty percent chance that they would make it to the rendezvous point ahead of the Zhirrzh.
Whatwas certain was that committing themselves to the attempt would mean abandoning any chance of rescuing Dreamer and Con Lady.
Bokamba knew that, too, and for a moment his sense was tangled in an agony of indecision and guilt. But only for a moment.We have no choice, the tail said, his mental tone heavy but determined.Let's do it.
Right,Quinn acknowledged as an updated version of the drop-J curve appeared on the overlay. Bracing himself for another ninety-degree turn, he prepared to flip the Corvine over-
And then, without warning, a double blaze of blue-white fire flashed into sight over the planet's horizon directly ahead.
Incoming spacecraft!Bokamba snapped out the warning. New vectors appeared on Quinn's overlay: the two spacecraft were coming up incredibly fast over the curve of the planet, skimming the top of the atmosphere, the extrapolation indicating an ETA to the main battle of barely five minutes. Quinn keyed in full magnification-
And felt his breath catch in his throat. To the unaided eye the approaching spacecraft were little more than dark blotches against the ragged-edged corona of their drive trails, but as the Corvine's optics edited out the glare, he could see the splashes of lights across their dark surfaces and the strangely curved edges glowing with an eerie luminescence. Images from the military history texts; images that supposedly no longer existed.
Yycroman Vindicator-class warships.
Quinn found his voice again. "Savazzci, this is Three Omicron Four."
"They have come," the Yycroma's reply came through the Mindlink into Quinn's mind. Not with any trace of joy or relief, but with the grim satisfaction of a Yycroman male who has seen the time for vengeance finally at hand. "Now shall we see."
The lights on one of the Vindicators dimmed, and the slender blue beams of particle-beam weapons lanced out toward the three Zhirrzh laser bombers diving ever deeper into the atmosphere. But too far ahead: the beams sliced through the air ahead of them for a clean miss-
And then, abruptly, the blue lines were sheathed with an explosive and expanding swirl of furious white turbulence. The beams, flash-ionizing the tenuous upper atmosphere, had created an instant hurricane.
The Zhirrzh laser bombers were caught flat-footed. Their mad race planetward floundered as the shock wave of superheated air slammed across their bows. Before they could recover, the second Vindicator fired, this shot sizzling past their starboard flank.
Charging toward the main battle like a pair of enraged bears, the warships were already out of range for a third shot. But it didn't matter. They'd slowed the laser bombers' descent just enough... and Quinn, whose years with Lord Cavanagh had taught him how to appreciate a dramatic entrance, also knew a cue when he saw one.
He had the Corvine in a vertical dive even before the second Yycroman shot had been fired; was scorching the fighter's hull with friction before the laser bombers finished their bouncing. By the time they'd settled down and were again throwing power to their drives, he'd started into his main curve.
Before they could do anything else, he was right on top of them.
" 'We have no idea,' " the Elder quoted, stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out. " 'But the description doesn't sound like that of any Human-Conqueror warship we've yet seen.' "
"I could have told you that," Supreme Commander Prm-jevev snarled under his breath as he gazed at the patches of blue-white flame charging toward him. Yycroman, without a doubt. And armed with weapons the like of which he also had never seen.
And apparently left deliberately out of the battle until this exact beat. Why?
The answer was obvious. The Human-Conquerors and their Yycroman allies weren't fooled by the impervious Zhirrzh hulls-not a bit. They knew perfectly well how much internal shock damage their missiles were causing... and everything they'd done up until this point had clearly been for the sole purpose of softening their defenses so that these two ships could get in close.
Close enough to use their blue-beamed weapon. An unidentified, hitherto unseen weapon.
CIRCE?
There was a faint flash of distant light on one of the telescope displays. The heavy air-assault craft, their crews dazed or stunned, being destroyed by the single Human-Conqueror fighter warcraft that had followed them down. More good warriors being prematurely raised to Eldership.
Another Elder appeared. " 'Supreme Commander, this is Speaker Cvv-panav,' " he said. " 'These are nothing more than part of the Yycroman war fleet the Mrachanis warned us about. Hold your territory, and they'll break over you.' "
Prm-jevev flicked his tongue in vicious contempt. Here he was in the boiling cauldron of combat, facing Eldership for himself and every one of his warriors and technics, and all Speaker Cvv-panav could do was waste his time with pretentious political banalities. "It may not be that easy, Speaker," he bit out. "Not if that weapon is what I think it might be."
" 'Don't be ridiculous,' " the Speaker's scoffing reply came back a few beats later. " 'Hold your courage, Supreme Commander-this is no time to fall apart on us.' "
Prm-jevev flicked his tongue savagely. It was also no time to face a weapon like CIRCE. Not here, with a fleet that had already been battered halfway to uselessness. Certainly not on the Human-Conquerors' terms and timing.
But how could he call a retreat? Especially when none of the Elders who would be judging his actions even knew of CIRCE's existence?
Another Elder appeared. " 'Supreme Commander Prm-jevev, this is the Overclan Prime,' " he said. " 'You are hereby ordered to withdraw.' "
Prm-jevev felt his midlight pupils narrow in surprise. What in the eighteen worlds-?
And then he got it. The Overclan Prime had listened between the words and understood the full scope of Prm-jevev's suspicions and fears. By ordering Prm-jevev to retreat from what looked to be an imminent victory, he was taking on himself the public scorn and political repercussions that would follow this defeat.
On the telescope display, the last of the heavy air-assault craft flashed into vapor... and with it went their last reason to stay. "I obey, Overclan Prime," he acknowledged. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the Elders grouped around him. "Supreme Commander Prm-jevev to all ships," he called. "Break off your attacks and retreat."
The laser bombers saw the Corvine coming, of course. But there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. At close-combat range the faint flickers of light that preceded each laser shot were easily visible, and even with one dead engine Quinn was able to avoid their shots with ease. Between the 55 mm cannon and one of his three remaining missiles, it was over in seconds.
Weaving around the expanding clouds of debris, he turned the Corvine's nose upward again... and for the first time since the Vindicators' sudden appearance, he turned his attention back to the main battle.
To find that it was over.
He stared in disbelief. There was theTrafalgar, looking half-dead but still limping gamely along. There was the fleet, or at least what was left of it. There were the two Vindicators, their drive coronas now flaming violently in the opposite direction as they attempted to brake from their mad charge.
But the Zhirrzh ships had turned and were driving away from the planet. Even as he watched, they meshed out and were gone.
What in the world?Bokamba said, clearly as surprised as Quinn was.
I don't know,Quinn said.They just gave up.
But they were winning,Bokamba protested.
I know.
Well, let Montgomery and the others figure it out,Bokamba said.We've got to get back to Dreamer and Con Lady.
Right.Quinn curved the Corvine back around, searching for the women's fighter.
To find it little more than a blur, its shape all but smothered by the roiling
air turbulence around it. Like a sleek metal meteoroid, it was heading toward a spectacular and fiery death.
He threw full power to the engines, feeling Bokamba's sudden surge of guilt as both men were slammed back into their seats. A flood of warmth hit his face and chest, the intensity increasing as air friction began heating the Corvine's already overstressed hull toward the danger point. Behind him he could sense Bokamba trying furiously to coax more power out of the engines, all the time fully and bitterly aware that they weren't going to make it....
And then, suddenly, a spurt of maneuvering flame erupted barely a klick from the women's Corvine. A shadowy ship, visible only through the air turbulence sheathing it, was closing fast on the stricken fighter.
It's a sensor-stealthed ship,Bokamba said, his relief bubbling almost visibly.Probably one of the Trafalgar'swatchships.
Quinn held his breath, ignoring the heat now burningly hot on his skin. The chase ship was nearly to the fighter... the two masses of turbulence merged...
