Heart Of The Tiger wc-4

by William R. Forstchen

  "Skipper. . ." Denise Mbuto roused him from his reverie. "Don t you think . . . ?"

  "Comm silence!" he snapped. "Follow my lead, damn it!"

  And still they dove, until the weapons platform filled the entire forward cockpit view and he could make out individual structures and projections on the hull of the gigantic device. As they swept down toward the metal surface, Blair suddenly pulled up, skimming within fifty meters of the Behemoth. He had a maniacal grin on his face as he pictured the reactions in the other fighters behind him.

  "Whooeee! What a ride!" Marshall shouted, and Blair didn't reprimand him for breaking communications silence. The man's reaction was something he could understand perfectly. He wanted to shout out loud himself.

  Instead he forced himself to think about the battle as a whole. "Watchdog, Watchdog, this is Guardian Leader," he said on the command channel. "Come in, Watchdog."

  Again it was Tolwyn, and not Rollins, who answered his call. "Damn it, Blair, get in there! '' he snapped. "You have to protect the Behemoth!"

  "We're on it, Admiral," Blair replied. "But some support from the destroyers would be a good idea. Coventry, too, if she's able."

  "Negative on that," Tolwyn replied. "We've just spotted a flotilla of Kilrathi cap ships closing on us. They're at extreme range but coming in fast. Sheffield is moving to delay them. And Ajax is trying to clear a route through the minefield."

  "She'll never make it," Blair said. "You know the odds against spotting every mine when you're in something as big as a destroyer."

  "Coventry's launching her fighters, but she's in bad shape. And Bondarevsky's been wounded. . ." The Admiral was struggling to maintain control. He stopped, visibly gathering his composure before he spoke again. "Just do your job, Blair. Tolwyn clear."

  The channel went dead, and Blair cursed under his breath. Tolwyn was so concerned with finding a way around or through those mines that he was throwing away valuable assets just when they needed them most.

  Blair dismissed the thought. Tolwyn would fight this battle his own way. What mattered now was the flight wings part in it all.

  Still skimming low over the curved body of the Behemoth, the Terran fighters flashed past the pressurized section of the hull where the control center and crew's quarters were housed. Beyond lay the battle zone, where the two squadrons of Hellcats were already making their presence known against the Strakha. Blair pulled up sharply as his sensors registered the fighting, climbing steeply away from the weapons platform. His maneuver had placed the two squadrons, Arrows and Thunderbolts, between the Kilrathi and their target Now all they had to do was make the move count for something . . .

  * * *

  Stalker Leader.

  Loki System

  Graldak let out a Kilrathi oath as he spotted the Terran fighters forming near the hull of the weapons platform. He hadn't expected the apes to fly so recklessly close to the surface of the huge weapons platform. It was a daring move. A warrior's move. He recognized the hand of the one Thrakhath had dubbed the Heart of the Tiger, the same one who had so nearly defeated the attack force off Locanda IV. That was one ape who knew how to fight. . . .

  "So, Heart of the Tiger," he said over the comm channel. "You would stand in my way? You will not stand long, I assure you."

  The Behemoth was the primary target, but that did not preclude swatting aside any resistance that sought to stop his attack run. With all weapons armed, Graldak switched on his targeting computer and drove the Strakha straight toward the Terran fighters.

  * * *

  Thunderbolt 300.

  Loki System

  "Here they come!"

  Blair saw the leading Strakha accelerating toward them just as Flint gave her warning cry. The Kilrathi fighters were no longer spread out, but formed a wedge behind their leader. They were keeping tighter formation than usual, probably hoping to bore through the Terran defenses and reach Behemoth through sheer numbers and concentrated firepower. A quick glance at the sensor screen revealed the other Kilrathi ships now thoroughly engaged. The two Hellcat squadrons tied up most of the enemy, while the rest were being pursued by the half-squadron off of Coventry. The cruiser itself limped in closer. Apparently Tolwyn was wrong about the situation aboard the capital ship. . . .

  "Close up," Blair ordered. These were the only Kilrathi ships in a position to hit Behemoth for the moment, but unless the Terrans shifted to meet the unexpected Imperial formation their advantage would be lost. "Form on me."

  But the cats were driving in too fast. An Arrow flashed past Blair, blasters firing wildly, but three of the Strakha hit the interceptor with massed fire. Blair tried to catch up to support the Arrow, but he was too late. The Terran fighter's shields went down, and in seconds the Kilrathi blasters chewed through armor and hull, boring into the reactor. The Arrow went up in a blaze of raw energy.

  It was only then that Blair realized it was Denise Mbuto's fighter.

  Now the leader was almost on top of him, and the rest of the wedge close behind. Blair set his crosshairs on the lead Strakha and opened fire. Several Kilrathi ships began to return his volley, but Cobra and Vaquero appeared from nowhere to engage on their flank, and in their haste to meet the new threat, the Kilrathi did little more than graze Blair's shields.

  He maintained fire on the leader, looping to follow as the wedge shot past him. Fingers dancing over the fire controls, Blair called up a pair of dumb-fire missiles. They were simple unguided rockets, without any of the sophisticated homing systems common in other weapons in the Terran arsenal, but in this situation they were exactly what Blair needed. If he fired any of the other types, they were apt to be confused by the sheer number of available targets. And Blair wanted the leader.

  He kicked in his afterburners once more, driving right into the enemy wedge. His targeting reticule centered over the lead Strakha and flashed, and Blair's fingers stabbed at the fire controls. The two missiles leapt from their launch rails almost as one, speeding straight toward the Kilrathi ship. His opponent, realizing what was happening at the last possible moment, started to swerve, but it was too late. The missiles detonated, and the Kilrathi shields began to fluctuate wildly.

  Blair locked on his blasters and opened fire.

  The Kilrathi pilot continued his maneuver even as the armor was being ripped off his stern section. The Strakha was changing course, but no longer in an evasive turn. He was lining up on a vector only slightly different from his previous heading . . . straight toward the Behemoth.

  With a shock, Blair realized that the pilot's new course had his fighter aimed directly at one of the exposed shield generator housings that Tolwyn had indicated as a weak point in the weapons platform's defenses. The Kilrathi pilot had decided to make his death count. . . .

  The Strakha came apart, but hurtling chunks of debris stayed on course, raining on the surface of the Behemoth. A ripple of explosions erupted from the huge vessel's hull. A moment later, two nearby Kilrathi ships let loose missile barrages to take advantage of collapsing shields on the weapons' platform. Flint and Maniac accounted for the two cats, but the damage was already done.

  Blair could see lifepods and shuttles detaching from the Behemoth as the explosions spread and swelled. He pulled up sharply, steering back through a gauntlet of Kilrathi Strakha, knowing he had to put some distance between his fragile fighter and the doomed planetkiller.

  The final explosion, when it came, overwhelmed his sensors and external cameras. For a moment he was flying blind, buffeted by spinning bits of metal and stray shots from enemy fighters. Kilrathi jeers and taunts were loud on the comm channel, a demonic cacophony of hate and glee.

  Behemoth was gone. . . .

  Elsewhere, the Kilrathi fighters were turning away. The Terran resistance had been stiff, and with the destruction of the weapons platform their mission was accomplished. As the Kilrathi began to withdraw in the direction of their capital ships, Blair ordered the flight wing to regroup near Victory. No one offered to pursue t
he retiring foe.

  Tolwyn's face appeared on Blair's comm screen. "I'm ordering the fleet to withdraw, he said, shock and pain etched plainly on his face. "Ajax will stall the enemy fleet as long as possible. Land your fighters, Colonel." The admiral's shoulders seemed to sag. "It seems we've lost our last chance . . ."

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Flight Deck, TCS Victory.

  Blackmane System

  The retreat from Loki had cost the flight wing five more pilots, and the destroyer Ajax was destroyed while attempting to hold off the enemy so the rest of the squadron could withdraw through the jump point. Still, it might have been considered a victory of sorts, extracting the Terran squadron from the trap at Loki VI . . . if it hadn't been for the loss of Behemoth.

  The last hope for mankind. . . that was how the Behemoth was described. Now it was gone. And it was Christopher Blair who had failed in his duty to protect the weapon from the Kilrathi attack.

  The bitter thought gnawed at Blair as he stood on the flight deck, surrounded by other senior ship's officers. The failure had been his . . . but right now, it was Admiral Geoff Tolwyn who was suffering the consequences of that failure. The orders came in two days after the squadron retreated to the Blackmane System. They were conveyed by a fast courier ship that had carried Tolwyn's report to sector HQ and then returned. Tolwyn was relieved of command over the erstwhile Behemoth Project. He was to strike his flag aboard Victory and return to Torgo immediately to face an inquiry into his handling of the entire operation.

  Victory, meanwhile, was to maintain position and complete field repairs pending the arrival of a new squadron commander. No one aboard was sure what that portended

  Tolwyn dressed as precisely as ever, but defeat was plain in his carriage as he stepped onto the flight deck, his staff trailing behind him. The admiral did not seem surprised to note that the turnout to see his departure was smaller and less impressive than upon his arrival. His star fell, and he with it. Tolwyn was well aware of the fact. He stopped to return Eisen's crisp salute.

  "I relieve you, sir," the captain said quietly.

  "I stand relieved," Tolwyn replied. "Permission to leave the ship?"

  "Granted, Admiral." Eisen saluted a second time.

  "A word of warning," Tolwyn said, again returning the salute. "The cats knew exactly where we were going, and when. They even knew exactly where to strike." He paused, running a sour eye over the assembled officers behind Eisen. His gaze seemed to come to rest on Blair. "I believe you may have a leaky ship, Captain."

  "With all due respect, sir," Eisen responded stiffly. "I resent any such suggestion regarding my people. They've served this ship and the Confederation with honor, one and all. There are never any guarantees when it comes to battle, Admiral. And no such thing as certain victory, no matter how awesome your weapon may be."

  Tolwyn's expression was bleak. "Victory is certain enough now, Captain, for the Kilrathi. I hope the honor of your crew is enough, in the fighting that lies ahead. It will only get worse from here."

  He turned away and stalked toward the shuttle without another word. Climbing the ramp, he turned back to look at the flight deck one last time, and again Blair felt that the admiral's gaze singled him from the rest. Then Tolwyn boarded the craft, and the door swung shut behind him. The assembled officers and men withdrew as the shuttle powered up.

  The hangar area was empty by the time the shuttle rolled onto the open deck beyond the force field curtain, rising slowly away from the carrier and into the black void.

  * * *

  Bridge, TCS Victory.

  Blackmane System

  "Captain, we've got a ship coming through the Torgo jump point. Looks like a big one . . ."

  "On the main monitor," Eisen ordered, leaning forward in his chair. The viewscreen showed a computer-enhanced view of open space, with no outward sign of the jump point or the disturbance the sensors picked up indicating a ship in transit.

  Four days had passed since Tolwyn's departure, and aboard Victory and the other ships in the ill-fated Behemoth Squadron, the passage of time was starting to weigh heavily on crew morale. Being driven back with the loss of the weapons platform — not to mention Ajax — was bad enough. But to wait here, useless, without a word of the war from other quarters . . . that was even worse.

  A ship took form on the viewscreen, slightly larger than Victory but similar in configuration. It was one of the latest models of escort carrier, but its sleek, modern lines were marred by battle damage.

  "Jesus," someone muttered. "Looks like half the flight deck got cooked."

  "Transponder code's on line, Captain," Rollins said a moment later. "She's the Eagle. Captain Chalfonte."

  "Confirming," the sensor officer added a moment later.

  "Message coming in, Rollins reported. "They're sending across a shuttle. No details, sir. Just . . . sending a shuttle. We're to stand by and await further communication."

  Eisen nodded. "Very well. Alert Flight Control we have an incoming shuttle. Mr. Gessler, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room if there's anything further."

  * * *

  Flight Control, TCS Victory.

  Blackmane System

  "Victory, Victory, this is shuttle Armstrong. Request landing clearance and approach vector.

  "Shuttle Armstrong, cleared to land," Blair replied. He was standing a turn as OOD in Flight Control, one more way to keep himself busy so that he wouldn't brood over recent events. He signaled to one of the technicians to activate the carriers approach beacon.

  The shuttle skimmed low over the flight deck and allowed the tractor beams to lock on and pull it in. Blair monitored the landing, and when the stubby little craft was down, he gave curt orders to activate the force fields and revive pressure and gravity inside the hangar area. Behind him, two of the techs were swapping speculations about the shuttle and its reason for paying the ship a visit from Eagle, but Blair silenced them with a quick look.

  The shuttle doors opened up, and a single stocky figure appeared at the top of the ramp. Blair stared, wide-eyed as the man glanced around the hangar deck and gave an approving nod of his graying head. Rachel Coriolis appeared at the bottom of the ramp, holding out a PDP so that the shuttle's pilot could log in, but she nearly dropped it as she took in the rank insignia on the man's well-worn flight suit.

  It wasn't often that a full general visited the flight deck of a carrier.

  Blair wasted no time in getting to the flight deck to join Rachel. By the time he reached the shuttle, General James Taggart had descended to the deck, taking the data pad from the chief technician's hands. He was smiling as he signed it and thrust it back at her.

  "There, now, lassie, satis all legal and proper," the general said, his thick Scots accent a welcome reminder of better days. He caught sight of Blair and his grin broadened. "Och, lad, dinna hurry! I'm nae sae old that ye maun rush tae see me before I keel over!"

  "Paladin!" Blair said, saluting the man who had been his first squadron leader on the old Tiger's Claw. "Er . . . General . . .

  "Paladin I'll always be tae my auld mates, laddie," Taggart told him, returning the salute carelessly and then seizing Blair's hand in a warm handshake." 'Tis aye good tae see ye again."

  "Why didn t someone tell us you were on the shuttle?" Blair demanded. "We would have laid on a proper welcome." He was thinking of the contrast between Taggart's arrival and Tolwyn's just two weeks earlier.

  "Och, lad, I cannae be bothered with all the pomp and circumstance. Ye should ken that well enough by now. The business I'm on doesna allow time for all that folderol."

  "Business?"

  "Aye, lad." Paladin stroked his salt-and-pepper beard and fixed Blair with a steely stare. "The business of putting right the mess Auld Geoff made of things, at Loki. I just hope satis nae too late tae salvage this mess." The general gave him another smile. "So, if ye dinna mind, lad, I need tae see Captain Eisen as soon as may be. But I'll be wanting tae talk to ye, as well, soon enou
gh."

  General Taggart strode briskly toward the door, leaving Blair behind. Rachel exchanged glances with him.

  "That was General Taggart?" she asked as Paladin's broad back disappeared through the doorway.

  Blair nodded. "In the flesh."

  "Good God," the woman said softly. "I feel sorry for the Kilrathi who gets in his way . . ."

  "The last one who tried ended up with a Paladin-sized hole in him," Blair agree. "I just wonder what the hell he's doing here. . . ?"

  * * *

  Wing Commander's Quarters, TCS Victory.

  Blackmane System

  The door buzzer made an irritating noise, and Blair swung his feet from his bunk and said "Enter" just to shut it off. He wasn't surprised to see Paladin when the door slid open. "Come in, General," he said formally.

  Taggart cocked an eyebrow at him. "General, is it, again? Have ye decided tae go all formal on me, lad?"

  Blair shrugged wearily. "It's hard to think of you as Paladin any more, you know. It's been a long time."

  "Those were the good days, though, laddie," Paladin told him, crossing the cramped cabin to perch on the only chair. "I wish I was still out on the firing line with you young lads and lasses, instead of flying a bloody desk.

  "I wish you were out here, too," Blair told him. "A few more pilots like we had in the old gang and we might've saved Behemoth last week."

  "That bucket of bolts," Paladin said, making a face. "Auld Geoff really thought that monster of his would work. He always believed that bigger was better."

  "You had a better solution, I take it? Kevin said you had some scheme cooked up, over in Covert Ops." Blair couldn't help letting some of his anger show in the comment.

  Taggart studied him. "I hear you . . . heard about Angel," he said, answering Blair's tone rather than his question. "In a tangle with Thrakhath, no less."

  "Yes, I did, you son of a bitch."

  "I'm sorry that ye had tae find out that way."