Heart Of The Tiger

by William R. Forstchen

  "Thunderbolt three-zero-zero, under power," he reported. "Gold Squadron deployed and ready."

  "You sure we shouldn't let Whittaker's boys and girls give you a hand out there. Colonel?" The duty Flight Control Officer, Lieutenant Rashad, sounded worried.

  "Keep them on stand-by, Lieutenant," Blair said. "I'll let you know if we need them."

  It was the same problem encountered at Ariel. With the carrier heading for the jump point, too many fighters in space would only complicate their escape. Blair overruled the original call for a magnum launch, preferring to put out the eight fighters of Gold Squadron and hold the others in reserve in case they were needed. But he didn't intend to need them, not today. All the Terrans needed to do at the moment was keep the Kilrathi distracted until the carrier was ready to jump.

  So far, the cats were cooperating quite nicely. Their fighters were maintaining a tight formation well out of range of the carrier's guns. None showed any desire to venture close enough to threaten the Terran vessel.

  "Eight minutes," Rollins' voice informed them.

  "What are they waiting for?" Flash complained.

  "Maybe they're scared of you, kid," Maniac responded.

  "Cut the chatter, people," Blair growled. He was feeling as impatient as Dillon. If only Thrakhath would put his fighter in Blairs crosshairs…

  "Does the Heart of the Tiger hide among the other apes?" Thrakhath's mocking voice filled his helmet speakers. "And under the guns of his ship? The challenge was to meet in personal combat."

  On his screens, he saw a Vaktoth accelerate away from the other Kilrathi ships, but it stayed well clear of Victory. For a moment Blair toyed with the idea of ordering the squadron to attack, but he knew the Kilrathi would be on their guard against such a move. The name of the game, for now at least, was to keep from letting a full-scale battle develop for as long as possible.

  Thrakhath must have realized the same thing, for a few seconds later a pair of Vaktoth broke formation, followed by two more. These streaked toward the carrier. Gold Squadron lay directly in their path.

  "Here they come!" Cobra called. "Permission to engage?"

  "Let them come to us," Blair ordered. "Wingmen, stick close to your partners."

  The first two Vaktoth drove into the center of the Terran formation then rolled outward, opening fire with guns and missiles. Cobra and her wingman, Vaquero, went after the first one, while Maniac and Vagabond engaged the second. Blair watched the second pair of fighters and felt his pulse race. "Hobbes, you and Flash take the one on the left," he said. "Flint and I'll take the other guy."

  "Understood," was Ralgha's reply. He still sounded distracted. Flash gave a whoop and kicked in his afterburners, racing to meet the oncoming fighter.

  Blair couldn't spend any more time worrying about the others. The fourth Vaktoth was almost on them, concentrating fire against Flint's Thunderbolt. Blair turned sharply and accelerated, opening fire with his blasters, while Flint banked sharply left to try to keep her weakened port-side shields from taking any more damage.

  The Vaktoth pilot was good. He maintained his fire on Flint, randomly altering vectors to dodge most of Blair's fire while he kept up the pressure on his original target. Blair gave a curse and locked a heat-seeker on the Vaktoth's tail, then followed the missile with his blasters, pouring out all the power his weapons system could muster. The shield collapsed, and blaster fire tore into the armor until the power cut out, recharging.

  His opponent seemed to realize then that Blair represented too great a threat to ignore any longer. He started turning away from Flint to bring his weapons to bear and to cover his exposed rear, but as he turned, Flint took the opening without hesitation. Her blasters continued where Blair's ended, and a moment later the Vaktoth exploded in a thousand whirling fragments.

  "Nice shooting, Lieutenant," Blair called. "Good to have you back on my wing."

  "It's where I belong, Colonel," she replied.

  "Somebody get this bastard off me! Hobbes! Colonel!" Flash's voice was hoarse with panic. "I can't shake him!"

  On his scanner, Blair saw Flash trying to break away from the Vaktoth he challenged, but the enemy pilot was right on his tail. Hobbes was closing in, but slowly, cautiously, as if the Kilrathi renegade was afraid of getting too close to the dogfighting pair. Blair banked the Thunderbolt, increasing his speed, but he knew he wouldn't be able to reach Flash in time to do any good.

  Hobbes took up a position behind the enemy fighter and opened fire, but his first shots went wild. The Vaktoth unleashed another attack. This time a deadly hail of energy bolts and missiles rained on Flash's ship as the young pilot tried to turn out of the Vaktoth's line of fire.

  He was too late. Blair heard him scream as a fireball consumed his craft.

  Once again Hobbes fired, but this time his opponent rolled sideways and accelerated back toward the rest of the Kilrathi formation. More Vaktoth were on their way.

  "Five minutes to Jump Sequence start," Rollins announced. "Captain wants to know if we should launch additional fighters P"

  "Negative," Blair grated. His sensors showed that the other two Vaktoth from the first flight had both been destroyed. The Terran fighters were regrouping again, ready to meet the next threat. "Hobbes, without a wingman you'll be a sitting duck. Retreat to the carrier and land."

  "I should remain, my friend."

  For a moment Blair considered having the Kilrathi switch positions with one of the other pilots, someone less steady, less reliable. Flint, or Vaquero, or perhaps Maniac. But the way Hobbes had been handling himself today, he was no more reliable than any of them. Even Marshall seemed to have himself under control, but Ralgha was plainly off his game. And Flash had paid the price. "No, Hobbes. Pack it in. That's an order."

  "As you command." Ralgha's Thunderbolt broke away and headed toward the carrier. Now there were only six Terran fighters to face the next wave of Kilrathi.

  This time four Imperial craft came at once, holding a tight formation all the way. Blair waited until they were just outside of weapons range before ordering Gold Squadron to turn from the oncoming Vaktoth and go to afterburners. The Kilrathi gave chase.

  "Maintain course," Blair said quietly. It was almost a mantra. "Maintain course… Break! Break and attack! Victory, pour it on!"

  The Terran fighters split up, each pair of wingmen peeling off in a different direction and looping back toward the pursuing Kilrathi. At the same time, Victory's defensive batteries opened fire, filling the void with searing bursts of raw energy. A pair of hits took out one of the enemy ships in the blink of an eye, and another suffered heavy damage as it tried to dodge the carrier's beams and pursue Cobra. Vaquero, on her wing, finished the attacker off with a well-placed missile.

  Maniac dove straight towards his target, all guns blazing, passing bare meters away from his opponent before the Kilrathi pilot could even react Slowly, carefully, Vagabond trailed him, and his blasters exploited the weakened shields to burn through the fighter's cockpit and kill the pilot. The Vaktoth plunged on, uncontrolled, until Victory destroyed it a few seconds later.

  Meanwhile, Flint and Blair split and circled the last Imperial fighter from opposite sides, hammering the hull with blasters as they sped past As a parting shot, Blair dropped a fire-and-forget missile. It hit the Vaktoth's starboard wing moments later. The explosion didn't destroy the enemy craft, but it was visibly damaged as it turned and ran, trailing debris and leaking atmosphere. Maniac caught the fighter as it tried to flee and finished it with a few well-placed blaster shots.

  "Three minutes," Rollins said.

  Blair studied his scanners. The Kilrathi fighters were still out there, but the countdown was getting close enough that he had to start thinking about getting the rest of the squadron on board. Anyway, the Imperial ships wouldn't be inclined to cut things too fine by staging an attack now. The energy discharge of a carrier going into jump could do terrible damage to fighters close enough to be caught by the creation of the Tr
ansition Field.

  "Take them in, people," he ordered "Maniac, Vagabond, you two first. Don't miss the first approach. You might not get another one. Cobra and Vaquero, you go as soon as they're clear. Flint, you're with me."

  No one argued, though he thought he heard Maniac muttering a protest. The first two Thunderbolts peeled off and headed back for the carrier; the second two followed, but more slowly, to give Marshall and Chang time to set down and clear the flight deck. Time passed with agonizing slowness, with no further moves from the Kilrathi. But Blair was tense. He was sure Thrakhath wouldn't let them leave without some kind of final shot.

  "Two minutes," Rollins announced at length. "Maniac and Vagabond are aboard. Vaquero's in the beam now."

  "You re up, Flint," he said. "Take her inside."

  "Don't be slow following me, Colonel," she responded. "I'm getting too used to flying on your wing."

  She left nim, and Blair started a quick checklist for his own approach and landing. It was starting to look like Thrakhath wasn't planning a last push after all…

  "Jump Sequence start in ninety seconds," Rollins said. "Better bring her in now, Colonel."

  As he started to turn, Thrakhath's voice boomed loud in his speakers. "So, I was right, ape. In the end you do run. You did not meet my challenge… Even your lair-mate showed more courage, facing death."

  "Seventy-five seconds, Colonel."

  Blair tried to shut Thrakhath's words out of his mind, but the Kilrathi's mocking voice went on. "We misnamed you, perhaps, in calling you the Heart of the Tiger. You are weak … a coward… a failure. Not worthy of your lair-mate at all." The Kilrathi's voice took on a harsher edge now. "I enjoyed the feel of her blood running over my hands, Terran. As I enjoyed the taste of her flesh, in the victory feast."

  The words hammered at him on a level below conscious thought, and blind rage threatened to claim him. The carrier was looming large ahead of his fighter, but Blair hardly saw it through the red haze that clouded his eyes. He wanted to turn around, accept the Kilrathi's challenge, batter through Thrakhaths defenses and silence his taunts once and for all. That thing, that animal, had killed Angel and served her up at one of the barbaric Kilrathi ritual feasts.

  "Almost in the beams, Colonel," Rollins said. "Keep her steady… steady… Reduce your speed! If you don't cut your speed you'll overshoot!"

  "For God's sake, skipper, don't let him get to you!" That was Flint's voice. "If you take his challenge, you're stuck out there! Thrakhath'll wait… you'll get another chance at him!"

  The words penetrated his fog, and Blair killed his forward momentum with a hard braking thrust, like a kick from a horse. Almost sobbing, he stabbed at the landing gear controls as the beams took hold. Slowly, gently, the fighter dropped toward the deck and touched down.

  He hardly noticed as the fighter was drawn into the hangar area. A pair of spacesuited figures released his cockpit, urging him to get out even before gravity or pressure were restored, and Blair neither helped nor resisted them. They guided him across the open space in long, low-G bounds. Pressure was restored as they reached the door, and one of them—Blair vaguely realized it was Flint, still clad in flight suit and combat helmet— helped him remove his own helmet as they guided him into the corridor. His other helper fumbled with helmet releases and finally freed the bulky headgear. It was Rachel Coriolis.

  "jump sequence engaged," the computer announced blandly, "one minute to jump."

  "You gave us a scare, skipper," Rachel said. "Thought you were gonna pull a bolter and miss the landing."

  "I should have," Blair said. "I should have stayed out there and nailed that damned furball."

  "That's exactly what he wanted," Flint told him. "If you had let him draw you into a fight, you'd never have made it back before we jumped. I thought you were the one who never let it get to you? Isn't that what you said when you were chewing me out?"

  He looked at her and slowly shook his head. "Maybe so. And maybe I was wrong when I said it." Blair looked away. "I guess I'll never know, now."

  Blair brushed away their offered help as the elevator doors opened and he stepped into the cab. They followed, but he ignored them both, staring rigidly ahead at the keypad controls, unwilling to talk. Inside he felt drained, empty of everything except the knowledge that he had.

  The knowledge that Angel remained unavenged.

  Flight Deck, KIS Hvar'kann

  Delius System

  An honor guard greeted Thrakhath as he disembarked from his fighter, but he ignored them all in his anger. He glared as Melek approached, bowing.

  "Lord Prince, the Terran carrier has jumped. The captain of the Toor'vaas reports that the asteroid base has been breached, and Assault Marines are penetrating the station. There is no sign of further resistance anywhere."

  Thrakhath gave him a dismissive gesture. "I expected none," he said, not bothering to hide the angry growl in his voice. "See to it there are no apes left alive once their base has been secured."

  "But, Lord Prince, there will be many suitable slaves there." Melek looked shocked. "Surely you would not deny the Clans their right to take back captives—"

  "No survivors, I said!" Thrakhath snapped.

  Melek stepped back as if physically stricken. "As you wish, Lord Prince," he said, bowing again.

  "We have been at war with these apes for more than a generation, Melek. But I still cannot understand them. How could any sentient creature, however lacking in honor, fail to respond to a chance for vengeance?" Thrakhath studied his retainer for a long moment. "You are sure that this Blair was truly lair-mate to the one we killed?"

  "Intelligence reports claimed so, Lord Prince. Based on many interrogations of captured human pilots. The knowledge was evidently widely known in their warrior community."

  Thrakhath took a moment to chain his anger and speak calmly, as befitted a Prince. "Clearly the animal humans are even less civilized than we thought. They do not even respect their lair-mates enough to fight for them." He paused. "But even if the Heart of the Tiger survives, the rest of the plan shall move forward. He cannot deflect the fate that pursues the Terrans now."

  "Yes, Lord Prince."

  "Order a carrier to follow the Terran ship, but wait until it has had time to get well clear of the jump point before sending it. Sar'hrai would be a good choice. Give his new captain a chance to prove his worth. They are to mount a close surveillance on the enemy carrier, using stealth craft. When our agent makes his move, we must be ready." Thrakhah showed his fangs for a moment. "Our claws are at their throats, Melek. They will not escape the hunt."

  Chapter XXII

  Flight Deck. TCS Victory

  Tamayo System

  Once again the flight deck was crowded with officers and crewmen gathered to bid farewell to one of their own. The neat ranks of pilots, technicians, and ship's crew… the honor guard with weapons held in a stiff rifle salute… the chaplain's service, and the empty coffin waiting by the launch tube-only the names changed, but never the trappings or the emotion.

  Christopher Blair slowly stepped forward to the temporary podium. He never relished this duty, but today he hated everything about it.

  "Major Jace Dillon was a reluctant warrior in the Confederation's battle against the Empire," Blair said slowly. He raised his eyes to study the front ranks, especially the pilots of Gold Squadron. For a fleeting moment he wondered what Ralgha was thinking. Did the Kilrathi renegade regret letting the young Terran pilot down in that last battle? Hobbes had certainly been withdrawn ever since. It was a feeling Blair understood entirely. "Nevertheless, Flash never turned back when the going got tough. He more than made up for his youth and inexperience by flying with vigor and courage, and he died carrying the fight to the enemy."

  As he stepped back to allow the chaplain to advance and cany on with the funeral ceremony, Blair's eyes rested on the lone coffin. He wished he could have said a few words about Angel, but it would have been out of place here. Still, it wasn't Flas
h he was thinking about as the coffin accelerated out of the hangar deck, or as the honor guard fired their low-powered volleys. And when he bowed his head to offer up a prayer, it was Angel Devereaux who was foremost in his mind.

  Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory

  Tamayo System

  Blair sat alone at a table by the viewport, staring down into his empty glass as if it was a crystal ball that might give him a glimpse of another time and place. He was hardly aware of his surroundings, the other pilots and crewmen who talked, laughed, and carried on with their lives, with only an occasional glance at the solitary, withdrawn figure of their wing commander.

  A shadow fell across the table, and he looked into the knowing eyes of Rachel Coriolis. She put a bottle down on the table beside him. "You look like you could use a little more anesthetic," she said softly.

  He poured a shot and drank, wincing a little at the bite of the cheap liquor in his mouth and throat. Rachel studied him for a moment, as if waiting for him to speak. Instead he refilled the glass and held it, watching the reflections dance in the amber liquid.

  "Thrakhath really got to you, didn't he?" Rachel asked. "He knew all the right buttons to push."

  Still Blair didn't answer. He took a longer, slower sip, then looked up at Rachel.

  "I know how you feel, Colonel," she said, even softer this time. "I know what it's like, losing someone to this damned war." She hesitated a moment. "Do you want company? Or is the bottle enough?"

  Those words got through his defenses at last. He looked from Rachel to the bottle, then back at her again. "Company? Yeah." He pushed the bottle away. "Yeah, I guess talking is better than drinking, but it isn't easy."

  She settled into the chair across from him. "No, it isn't. But you can't run away from people, and you can't take refuge in getting drunk. Those things just postpone the inevitable."