He cuffed Kirha across the ear, the only part of the cub he could reach from where he sat. "Do you question my orders, cubling?"
Kirha's eyes dropped. Ralgha noticed the young Kilrathi's belly quivering; probably from the tension. "Of course not, my lord," he said submissively.
"Good. Communications Officer, I require all control of external communications to be transferred to my cabin immediately, for a closed-channel discussion. Kirha, I require your assistance now."
The Communications Officer bowed to him, and turned to his console to begin programming the change. Ralgha strode to the lift, Kirha a few steps behind him.
In his cabin, Ralgha allowed himself a moment of relaxation, stretching out on the woven fibers of his suspended chair to chew some arakh leaves. He felt the vibration of the jump engines as he chewed the sour leaves, the juice running down his throat to calm his belly. A few eights of minutes later, he felt relaxed enough to begin the task before him.
Kirha, of course, still stood at attention near the hatchway.
For the first time in his life, Ralgha wished that he had bothered to learn one of the Terran languages. Now everything would depend on Kirha's loyalty. Ralgha could not risk transmitting his message in Kilrathi, both for fear that one of his own crew would detect and understand it and also for the risk that the humans would not. The only Kilrathi other than Kirha aboard the ship who spoke Terran, according to the ship's roster, was the new Pilot Officer, but he would be too busy with his duties to hear this message. Or so Ralgha hoped.
He keyed in the monitor in his cabin to the outside communications channel, quickly running a scan of the channel to make certain that it was not being tapped, and that no other communication systems on the ship were in use.
Ralgha nar Hhallas, Lord of the Empire, was furious to realize that he was nervous, angry at himself, and appalled at the situation that forced him to this pass. Small wonder his stomach was in a turmoil. What he did now was his first true betrayal of the Emperor. He had sworn an oath to the rebels on Ghorah Khar, that he would aid them in any way he could to overthrow the Empire, but had never actually taken part in any of their plans. What he did could not be called honorable by any, to surrender his ship without a fight to the alien enemy. But he was oathsworn to the rebel council. To foil them now was the worst dishonor of all. It was no choice at all, save among bad and worse. For a split moment wonderment at finding himself in such a dishonorable dilemma rose to the surface of his mind, but as ever there was no time to think about that.
He took a deep breath, and began. "Kirha, you will translate and transmit this message."
"Of course, my lord," the young officer said.
"To the lord captain of the Terran carrier, Tiger's Claw," Ralgha dictated. "I am Ralgha nar Hhallas, lord of the Kilrathi Empire, and captain of the Fralthi cruiser Ras Nik'hra. In the names of the rebel lords of Ghorah Khar, I bid you welcome in all honor. At their request, I bring you messages suing for alliance with your Confederation against the Imperial Kilrathi, and my own Imperial ship as a gift. The Ras Nik'hra will continue toward the planet Firekka from this jump point, so that you may rendezvous with us at any time." Ralgha listed the ship's coordinates in the Kilrathi reckoning, which he hoped the humans could translate into their own system.
He saw that Kirha was trembling as the young Kilrathi finished translating his speech. Kirha pressed the button to transmit the message and turned to Ralgha. "May I be excused, my lord?"
Ralgha nodded, and Kirha quickly left the cabin, his tail curled low around his legs. This was, perhaps, the worst moment of Kirha's life. Well, and it was no great occasion for joy for Ralgha, either. I know, cubling. Now we have truly traveled into unknown space. To the humans, to surrender my ship to them. No Kilrathi has ever walked this path before.
He thought about calling Kirha back, then decided against it. This was no time for a show of weakness. Kirha was only one small piece in this game of Empires. Soon the cubling would be a prisoner of war, and not a game piece at all. There was no way to know what would become of them. Ralgha leaned back in his chair, feeling the tension in his muscles and belly.
Soon, he thought. Soon I will face the humans in a battle that I cannot win…
"We are gathered here today to honor the memory of a young pilot who died in the line of duty. Lieutenant Peter Youngblood fought bravely…"
Hunter stood stiffly at attention on the Outside Deck, the magnetic shoes of his spacesuit holding him tightly to the metal deck. As always, he felt very cold inside, standing out in open space. He knew it was only in his mind, that if his suit was ever breached enough to let in the cold, he'd be dead a half-second later. But still, he felt the chill.
Maybe it's because the only time I ever go "outside" is for these damned funerals, he thought. Bloody depressing, all of this. I hate the thought of Colonel Halcyon standing out here and eulogizing me if I should get blown away on a mission… I'd rather they just chuck my body out an airlock and have a serious party. A good rousing wake, that's what I'd like. All of my friends getting drunk as my bod floats off into space—
"… against overwhelming odds, he reached for victory despite the dangers…"
He tried for glory and caught ordnance, is what he did…
Kien Chen stood on Hunter's right, the fighter pilot obviously intent on the Colonel's speech. Mariko Tanaka was standing on his other side, motionless. Beneath the pale glow of her helmet light, Hunter saw the tears trickling down her face, bright in her eyes.
Hunter leaned closer to Mariko, so that his helmet touched hers. He spoke quietly, knowing that the vibrations would carry the sound into her helmet. "It's not your fault, lady. You did everything you could to save the kid."
There was no answer, though he could hear Mariko's soft breathing through the helmet.
"Mariko? C'mon, lady, talk to me! Listen, the kid did his best, and it just wasn't good enough. If he'd listened to you, obeyed you like he was supposed to, maybe he'd be alive right now. But it wasn't your fault. Hell, you barely got out of it alive yourself!"
He waited in silence for an answer, then slowly straightened, moving his helmet away from hers. Over the suit radio, he heard the Colonel conclude the eulogy, and then the honor guard fired their laser rifles in a twenty-one gun salute, as the empty coffin was released from its magnetic clamps and slowly drifted away from the Tiger's Claw.
Bloody depressing, all of this, Hunter thought, clicking his suit into "walk cycle" to follow everyone back to the airlock. The radio channel was silent, the only sound he heard was the faint clanking of his suit's magnetic boots switching on and off, clamping the deck and releasing as he walked. In the airlock, he waited with the others for the system to cycle, then quickly stripped out of the vac suit and back into his uniform.
As he fastened his boots, he saw Mariko leaving the suit room, her face as calm and serene as the aftermath of an ice storm, no sign of tears on her elegant oriental features.
"Mariko!" Hunter yanked his other boot on and ran to catch up with her. "Hey, Mariko!"
She continued walking down the corridor, not looking at him. "Please, Ian. I wish to be alone now."
"Come on, Mariko, talk to me!"
She faced him, speaking fiercely. "You want to talk about it? Fine. We'll talk about it. Youngblood is dead. He refused my order to withdraw. Why? Because he had no faith in me as his wingleader. That's why this is my fault, because he didn't believe in me enough to obey my orders."
Hunter stared at her. "Mariko, that's not true! I hate to speak badly about someone who's dead, but that kid was an idiot! He would've been cat food sooner or later, whoever his wingleader was! Look, compare him to Jazz Colson. When I ordered him to, Jazz turned around and headed back to the Claw, even though he didn't want to miss out on the fight! Jazz is going to do all right for himself, I'm not worried about him. But Youngblood, there was no way he was going to make it out there. Not a chance."
"Perhaps you could have said something
about this before the boy was killed, Ian!" Angrily, Mariko wiped the tears from her eyes, glaring at him. "It is a little late to tell me this now that he's dead!"
Hunter suddenly realized that they were standing in a corridor outside the airlock and yelling at each other, with most of the other pilots of the fighter squadron for an audience. He lowered his voice. "Come on, Mariko, don't take it so hard. I'm going to keep telling you that it's not your fault until you believe it. Listen, that Colson kid is playing music over on the Austin tonight. We'll catch a shuttle to the ship, have a few brews, talk about it. How 'bout it, lady?"
Mariko shook her head, tears still falling from her eyes.
Jeannette Devereaux, another of the other Claw pilots, put her arm around Mariko's shoulders. "Mariko, I'll walk with you to the Barracks, all right?" she said in her lovely French accent. "You'll feel better tomorrow, chéri, I know you will."
Jeannette is sure earning her callsign 'Angel' today, Hunter thought, watching them walk away. Those two are like sisters. Maybe that's better for Mariko, to talk it out with Angel.
Knight, Maniac, and Bossman were watching him from across the corridor. Todd "Maniac" Marshall, the youngest of the Claw pilots, grinned at Hunter. "Let me tell you, Hunter, you're pushing your luck, trying to make time with a lady who just had her wingman blown away," Maniac said.
"Go to hell, Todd," Hunter snarled, turning away.
"Come on, Ian, let's get out of here," Bossman said, giving Maniac a sharp look. "You want to get a beer? Are you on the duty roster again today?"
"No, I'm not," Hunter said. "Sure, let's go get a beer."
"Here you go, Hunter," Shotglass said, sliding the mug of beer down the counter to him.
"Thanks." Hunter started toward the table where Bossman and Knight were seated, then stopped in mid-stride, hearing the crackle of the ship's intercom system.
"The following pilots are to report to the flight deck immediately… Major Chen, Captain Khumalo, Lieutenant Marshall, Captain Devereaux, Captain St. John, Lieutenant Montclair…"
Hunter slid the mug back across to Shotglass. "Ah, bloody hell. Keep it cold for me, Sam," he said, then ran after the other two pilots toward the flight deck.
"So much for gettin' the afternoon off, mates," Hunter grumbled as they hurried down the corridors to the Deck.
"Anybody know what's up?" Joe Khumalo asked, slightly out of breath.
"A strike force from the Austin went after those ships yesterday, the ones that Spirit and Youngblood encountered. They took them out, so there shouldn't be anything else in the area," Kien Chen said as they paused at the equipment rack to change into flight suits. He tossed Hunter's helmet to him; Hunter caught it with one hand. "Everyone was flying more patrols today, in case there were more Kilrathi fighters out there that were stranded when their Fralthis were toasted. But Tactical says that they think we took care of them all, there wasn't anything out there except debris from those two cruisers."
"So why are we doing this?" Hunter muttered, strapping on his helmet and running with the other two pilots through the hatch and onto the flight deck.
The flight deck was a beehive of activity, with more technicians than Hunter had ever seen at one time, readying all of the available fighters.
Colonel Halcyon was on the Deck near the entrance, with half a dozen pilots gathered around him. "Good, that's everyone for this launch," the Colonel said as Hunter, Bossman, and Knight joined the assembled pilots. "Listen closely, because we don't have much time. We've received a transmission from a Kilrathi Fralthi cruiser, the Ras Nik'hra, whose captain is apparently part of a rebellion on one of the Kilrathi worlds… he wants to meet with the Confederation officials to discuss an alliance of some kind. We don't have his exact position, only his in-system jump point. Tactical has calculated out his possible course… your ships are programmed with flight plans for interception. Whoever sights the Fralthi is to report in immediately.
"The biggest problem is that Tactical believes they've detected jump traces of other Kilrathi ships entering this system," the Colonel continued, as Hunter stared at him with mingled shock and disbelief. "If the Kilrathi realize that this captain is allying himself with the Confederation, they'll try to destroy his ship before we can help him."
"What if it is a trap, mon Colonel?" Angel asked seriously.
"Use your best judgment," the Colonel replied. "Don't risk yourselves. But if you can bring the Ras Nik'hra back intact, do it. We've never had a chance to capture a Fralthi before… it's very valuable to Confed High Command.
"We have several troopships of Confed Marines in the system, part of the Honor Guard for the Diplomatic Corps. We're also sending them out, in case we need a boarding party to capture the ship. Do not, I repeat, do not try to land on the Ras Nik'hra. That's the Marines' job, not yours."
I sure don't envy those Marine blokes, Hunter thought. It's bad enough trying to shoot those cat ships down, but boarding one?
"Everyone will fly solo patrols so we can cover the Fralthi's entire projected flight path. If you complete your patrol without encountering the Fralthi, return to the Claw for new orders. Good luck, everyone," the Colonel concluded. "Dismissed."
Hunter jogged toward his Rapier fighter, and saw a blond-haired face emerge from inside the cockpit. The kid… what was his name? Jimmy? … swung down lightly from the cockpit, and saluted Hunter. "You're ready to launch, sir," the kid said.
"Thanks, Jim," Hunter said, and climbed up the ladder into the cockpit.
"Maybe I'll see you out there, sir," the kid said.
"What?" Hunter looked down at him in surprise.
Jimmy grinned proudly. "I'm a specialist in Kilrathi engineering systems as well as our own fighters, sir. I studied on Fralthi debris back at HQ. They're sending me with the Marines, in case we have to fly that Kilrathi ship ourselves."
"Well, take care of yourself, kid," Hunter said gruffly. "Be real careful if you go on that ship, okay? God knows what they'll have in there. Booby traps, probably."
"I will, sir!" Jimmy saluted him again, and Hunter picked up his clipboard, racing through the pre-flight checks. "Ready when you are," he said into his headset.
"You're cleared for launch, Hunter," Mississippi Steve drawled. "Good luck findin' that ship."
"I'll do m'best," Hunter replied, thumbing up the fighter's engines to taxi into launch position.
"Pilot Officer, report our current position," Kirha said, glancing up from his station.
"We are still on a direct course toward the inhabited Firekka planet," the Pilot Officer said tersely. "I am still not detecting any Terran presence… of course, without forward patrols, they could be waiting just outside our sensor range. I recommend that we launch fighters immediately for a long-range patrol before venturing closer to the planet, sir."
Kirha glanced at the Thrak'hra lord, who was pacing the Bridge. Lord Ralgha stopped at the Pilot Officer's console, looking over the Pilot Officer's shoulder at the computer displays. "Continue present course," Lord Ralgha said. "And we will not launch fighters, not yet."
My lord is nervous, Kirha thought, incredulously. I've never seen him like this before. Even when we fought the humans in the Vega Sector, and I was certain that we were going to die, I never saw him pace like this before. Can the rest of the crew see this as well?
"But, sir, without advance fighter patrols we're blind!" the Pilot Officer protested.
He's right, Kirha thought. I hope that my lord knows what he's doing. Something flickered on Kirha's computer console, and he punched up a quick diagnostic check to confirm the readout. "Lord Ralgha! I'm detecting old jump traces in our vicinity. Computer confirms them as the jump-system emissions of a Gettysburg class ship and another ship, the readings are difficult to distinguish."
Lord Ralgha strode to Kirha's station, looking down at the console. "Those are the jump traces of a Terran carrier," he said. "Do you see that pattern there, Kirha? That is created by the multiple jump engines of a carrier."
The Khantahr deftly ran through a series of checks… he knows every system on this ship, Kirha thought, a little enviously. That is why he is the finest captain in our fleet. Our best captain, and my liege lord. And a rebel, a traitor. If he is the best, and he chooses to hunt this path, how can I not follow?
"There, do you see?" Lord Ralgha pointed at a numeric chart, an analysis of the faint jump engines' emissions. "A clear corollation… the TCS Tiger's Claw jumped into this system."
There was a sudden silence on the Bridge. One of the younger officers, crouched over his computer console, shuddered convulsively.
The Pilot Officer was frozen with shock, as were several others. His tail twitched once. "The Tiger's Claw!" the Pilot Officer said explosively. "Sir, we must launch fighters at once!"
"These traces are at least several weeks old," the lord said thoughtfully. "In all likelihood, the Terrans are no longer in this system. We will not launch fighters."
"But, sir!"
The lord turned sharply, his claws extended. His eyes glittered dangerously. "Do you question my orders, Pilot Officer?"
"Of course not, sir," the Pilot Officer said, his eyes wide with fright. "I would never question your orders." The officer slid from his chair to the floor, prostrating his belly before his commanding officer.
"Oh, get up," Lord Ralgha said in an annoyed voice. "All of you," he continued, eyeing the rest of the Bridge crew, "resume your duties." He glanced at Kirha. "Kirha, you will walk with me now. We have other tasks to attend."
Kirha keyed the computer to report any other detection of Terran jump traces, and then hurried to the lift after his liege lord.
Lord Ralgha spoke quietly as they descended into the depths of the Ras Nik'hra. "We cannot risk the crew firing upon the Terrans when they arrive to rendezvous with us. We will be undefended, and a single fired shot could easily result in the Terrans destroying this ship. We must avoid that at all costs."
Wing Commander: Freedom Flight Page 7
