"How is Janice?" Svetlana asked, and there was a note of affection in her voice.
"Same Janice as always. Thirty-two kills to her credit and a squadron commander."
"She still have that crush on you?"
"I don't think so."
"Liar."
"Well, nothing's ever come of it."
"I bet," and he detected the jealously in her voice.
She went back to her desk and sat down, motioning for Jason to sit on her bunk.
He settled down, putting his helmet and gloves down and loosening his survival suit collar.
"Something to drink?"
"I'm flying again shortly. I've got to be back aboard ship before the next jump."
She nodded, and then reached into her desk draw, pulled out a small silver flask. She poured out a cap full, downed it in a single gulp, and then put the flask away. The action shocked him a bit, the Svetlana he remembered would never touch a drink.
"Why did you have to come back into my life now?"
"Janice told me your unit was with this convoy. I couldn't stay away. Last I heard you were way the hell out past the Niven Section."
"We got pulled from the front."
"To go with this convoy to practice exercises in the rear?"
"You're fishing for information, Jason," she said, and a smile brightened her features.
He felt a quick tug, her smile could always melt him.
"Well it does seem a bit strange, Svetlana. Nine regiments of marines and a commando battalion getting pulled for landing exercises. Hell, your division had five combat jumps in the last year alone. Last thing you marines need is a milk run practice landing."
"So you've been following our record have you?" and she looked over at him curiously.
"Who hasn't?" and he realized he had fumbled it yet again. "And besides," he quickly added, "I knew you were with the unit."
"Yeah sure, and all filled with concern."
He lowered his head.
"Anyhow, it does seem a bit strange to be pulling vets off the line, especially with all that talk of another Kilrathi offensive in the works."
She hesitated for a moment.
"That's bull. It's just a security cover."
She hesitated again.
"There have been too many security leaks. I heard they had some major problems with that on the Concordia."
"That traitor damned near killed everyone on board. It was before I got transferred there, but they're still talking about it."
"By the way, I heard how you handled things on Gettysburg. It took a lot of guts to rebel like that."
"I wasn't about to kill unarmed civilians asking for sanctuary, even if they are Kilrathi."
"They sure as hell did it on Khosan and a hundred other worlds, Jason. I've seen the results."
"Just because we're fighting in the gutter doesn't mean we have to get down and wallow in it the way the cats do."
She smiled sadly and nodded as if he were a child who had yet to grow up.
"I guess I can tell you," she finally said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Your captain's most likely getting briefed right now by the convoy commandant. Colonel Merritt, my CO, and I just got out of briefing an hour ago. Next jump has been changed. We're turning about, and doing a high-speed run back through the sector. In three days standard we're going to jump into Vukar Tag and take the planet."
"Vukar Tag? Never heard of it."
"Take a look." She turned back to her desk and punched up a holo map display of the sector.
Jason watched as she first scrolled through a strategic map and then focused in on the planet, data about the planet's size and defenses flashing up on the screen.
"I don't get it," Jason said softly, "no strategic materials, no juncture point for major jumps, it's a backwater rock floating in the middle of nowhere."
"Yeah, I know. It's a worthless rock in a worthless corner of the Kilrathi Empire, but something's cooking. We're taking the planet with a full ground assault and with orders to smash everything on it. Our units received a special assignment to blow a palace complex, though why they need to send us in to do the job when we could smash it from the air is beyond me. The place isn't fortified and shielding is minimal."
"Resistance?"
"We've been briefed that they're at least two regiments of Kilrathi Imperial Guard from their 23rd Claw division garrisoned there."
"Imperial Guard. What the hell for? The planet looks like a crap hole and not worth the cost of a single life."
"Got me, Jason, but that's the scoop."
Janice punched a key and the holo map image dissolved to be replaced by the strike map she had been working on. Jason leaned over and studied the map intently.
"Yeah, I'm still doing air-to-ground strike coordination for the battalion."
"It must hurt," he said quietly.
"They figured that with my flight background I was the best one for the job and I've been the Talker, the air-to-ground coordinator for the commando battalion, ever since I joined. For this operation I'm working with the Commandant for the entire show, since he's going in with us."
She hesitated.
"I'd have made a good pilot. It kills me to watch you hotshots come in and make your runs, me talking you through."
"I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for. I do my job well. I save a hell of a lot of grunts from getting fried, and I get my strikes in where they're needed. I guess I'll be your liaison for ground support. You people will be flying combat cover for our sector in the landing. We're coming straight in on the Imperial Guard barracks area next to the palace."
"So we're going with you?"
"That's the plan."
"Damn. I barely got my pups flying right in space. Now you're telling me they'll be flying atmosphere and doing ground strikes?"
"We're hooking up with another CVE at jump through but as far as I know Tarawa's crew has the ground-pounding work."
"I guess I'd better get back," Jason said, softly.
"I guess you'd better."
He stood up, not sure of what to do. She stood up as well, and the two looked at each other awkwardly.
"If only you'd stayed with the fleet, or simply gotten out, I'd have married you," Jason said. "But there was no sense to it. It'd have been years before we saw each other again."
"And it has been years," she sighed.
He stepped forward, ready to take her up in his arms but she backed away.
"It's over, Jason."
"Someone else then?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold.
"None of your damned business. And what about you, Jason? With that little boy smile I bet more than one ensign has melted for the chance to claim a fighter pilot."
"None of your damned business, either."
She looked at him coldly.
"Get the hell out of my room and don't come back."
CHAPTER IV
"That's the mission then, any questions?"
Jason looked around the room, feeling a deep sense of uneasiness. His pilots were of course displaying the expected level of excitement, this was after all the virgin mission for everyone in this room except for Doomsday, Janice, and himself—and that was exactly why he was worried. He would have preferred another month or two of training first, several more quiet convoy runs to polish their skills, but that, quite simply, was not going to be the case. There never seemed enough time to get ready when a war was on.
Svetlana was right on the mark. Less than an hour after he had returned to the Tarawa, O'Brian called a staff meeting to brief them on the reassignment. The captain could barely conceal his displeasure, and made more than one passing reference to half-baked, last-minute ideas, but Jason instantly picked up as well that O'Brian was miffed that he had been kept in the dark that the story of a training mission was nothing more than a security cover for this mission.
They had pulled the three jumps into the edge of the Kilrathi sector without detection, and the
next jump was slated for initiation in just under eight hours.
Eight hours. He looked around the room. His pilots were projecting what they expected to be the proper model of someone about to go forth and meet the enemy—a casual indifference, or open expressions of eagerness, but he knew better. It was almost hard now to remember his own first combat flight, and the humiliation of throwing up in the head only minutes before reporting to the flight line.
"All right then. Stand down, try to grab a quick nap if you can. Report to the flight line at 0415. The moment jump-through into the Vukar Tag system is completed we launch."
"Jump initiation sequence is at full automatic and counting at ten, nine…"
Jason leaned back in the cockpit of his Rapier and closed his eyes. No matter how many hundreds of times he jumped, it still left a bit of a twinge in his stomach.
"Three, two, one…"
Space on the other side of the airlock suddenly flashed. There was a momentary sparkle effect, and the faint sensation that he was falling and then another flash. It was as if a holo screen channel had been switched and a view of one sector instantly replaced with another.
There was a momentary pause, an expectant hush as the Tarawa's auto nav system locked on to the target stars in the new system, checking to see that they had arrived at where they were supposed to arrive. It was never a 100 percent sure thing with a jump. A transit point could have shifted, maybe even shut down, or the nav officer in charge might have screwed up. There was also the slim chance that two ships would jump into the same place, at exactly the same instant, but if that ever happened, Jason realized, there would not even be a split second of understanding before the total destruction of the ships in an incandescent flash.
"Tarawa nav confirms location," a computerized voice whispered in his headset. He looked down at his fighter's nav screen and a second later saw the navigational information being fed into his fighter's computer.
Jason clicked on his comm link.
"Wing launch is go."
He looked up and saw Janice's ship slam out through the airlock, followed thirty seconds later by a second recon ship. The tractor hooked to the front of Jason's Rapier started forward, pulling him up to the launch ramp, while the third Ferret went out and then the fourth. He was rolled into place and locked into the catapult. Check out completed, he gave the thumbs-up, leaned back, and two seconds later was in space, afterburners screaming into life as he roared straight ahead.
Twenty kilometers to starboard he saw CVE-4 Sevastopol and heard the chatter of her pilots on the other carrier's channel. The ship had jumped through five minutes ahead of them and most of their fighter squadron was out.
"Tar Blue Leader, do you copy? This is Pol Wing Command."
"Tar Blue Leader here," Jason replied.
"We've got negative on Kilrathi combat patrol. Repeat, no bogeys yet."
"Good news on that Pol. My people are forming for strike, keep me posted, Blue Leader out."
There was a flicker of light to port and Jason looked over as the first of the Marine transports materialized into the sector. Ten seconds later a second ship appeared, and within another minute all nine were in, kicking up to full speed. From their forward bays the first assault landing craft emerged.
Thirty million clicks ahead the dirty brown and red crescent of Vukar Tag was barely visible. He could imagine that all hell was breaking loose down there as the Kilrathi planet defense system picked up the unexpected visitors. It was going to be a three hour run down to the planet, escorting the landing craft in with Pol's fighters providing the forward sweep and then Combat Air Patrol for the fleet and backup. By the time Pol's fighters got there, they'd be ready.
He settled back, circling the Tarawa at ten kilometers out, waiting for his pups to form.
"Tar Blue Leader, this is Pol Wing Command, starting forward sweep, will keep advised."
Jason settled back, listening to the Sevastopol's air command channel as the recon and fighter sweep went in to check out the planet's defenses. Space was rapidly getting crowded as each marine transport disgorged twenty landing craft, each ladened down with a company of a hundred grunts, followed by the heavy weapons support craft. Sevastopol's first squadron continued on in, its second forming a close-in combat patrol around the fleet, while Tarawa's attack force formed up to go in with the assault.
"Tar Blue Leader this is White Knight, marine air-ground support control."
He swallowed hard at the sound of Svetlana's voice.
"Go ahead White Knight."
"All landing craft are away, beginning assault."
Jason looked down at his watch. Twenty-seven minutes; damn, they were good. He toggled back to the Tarawa and quietly groaned when he found out that six fighters and three bombers were still waiting to get up. They'd have to catch up, the assault couldn't wait.
"Go ahead White Knight, we're with you."
The assault landing craft, spread out across a thousand cubic kilometers of space started in, Jason keeping his formation forward of the landing force. The three-hour run in was almost too quiet, a lone Drakhi recon ship, quickly dispatched by Sevastopol's forward sweep the only encounter. The planet soon filled most of space before him and they crossed the orbit of Vukar Tag's only moon.
The Kilrathi finally responded. From the barren and airless surface of the moon a full spread of missiles suddenly snapped loose, the high-pitched whine of their tracking systems ringing in Jason's headphones.
"Tar Blue Leader, to Blue Squadron, here's our first job. Follow me."
He broke hard right, kicking on afterburners into a skidding turn and rolling over to drop beneath the marine landing craft. Target acquisition sorted through the mad scramble of data and showed fifty outbound missiles, accelerating up and aimed into the heart of the assault.
"Break and pick your targets."
He heard a high pitched shout of glee from one of his pilots and tried to mark down who it was for a later chewing out. Pushing in hard, he aimed straight at the missile spread, locked on with laser cannons, and snapped off a volley, detonating his first target. Exploding missiles snapped in silent death. A missile guidance system, overriding its initial programming to go for the landing craft, swung about, cutting in behind Jason. He toggled off a chaff pod, cutting a tight roll. The missile, momentarily confused by the chaff, regained lock.
It continued to close.
"I'm on him, sir."
It was Chamberlain and Jason looked up to his rear projection mirror to see a flash of light a dozen clicks astern as the missile detonated.
"Thanks, Round Top."
He continued in towards the planet, and his combat information computer, analyzing the trajectories of the missiles traced them back to their source. Jason fed the information over to Doomsday who detailed off a strike bomber to go down and nail the concealed enemy base. Less than a minute later he saw the flash of an explosion on the planet's surface, followed an instant later by a ripple of secondaries. The bomber, with load expended, pulled up and away and started back for rearming to Tarawa, which was following in behind the assault.
"Three broke through to transports, Blue Leader."
"We're on them, White Knight."
Jason did a quick scan of his squadron. They were scattered out across several hundred cubic kilometers, locking on to their targets, nailing them, and then chasing the next. His people were too spread out.
The landing craft laser guns and mass driver mini cannons kicked into point defense even as he turned back in towards the marine ships. Space was crisscrossed with flashes of lights and exploding warheads, and then there was nothing but darkness.
"White Knight, what's the tally?"
"One ship damaged, she'll still make landing though, a handful of casualties. Thanks for the cover, Blue Leader."
"It's our job, White Knight."
He found it hard to believe that Svetlana was on the other end of the conversation. She was now so coldly professional, her voice
calm, almost disembodied.
"Blue Leader, initiate Plan Bravo."
"Initiating Plan Bravo," and he passed the command up to his Rapiers and to Doomsday's Sabres, while Starlight pulled her recon Ferrets back to act as point defense for the landing craft if anything went wrong.
"Form up, you know your targets." He took a deep breath, and dived straight in at the planet, following the track of his auto nav system which was programmed with the target, a Kilrathi landing field and barracks area, believed to be the center of planetary defense, which the First and Fifth Marines, augmented by the commando battalion were planning to seize. It was going to be a tough run.
The squadrons dove towards the planet's surface. Planetary defenses were up, an orbital station already engaged by Sevastopol's fighter bombers, ground defenses kicking on their jamming and attempting to gain lock on the incoming Confederation ships. He did a quick switch over to a Kilrathi channel and through the shifting hum of the encoding system Jason could still pick up the angry chatter and shouted commands. He barked off a quick curse, not sure of the exact Kilrathi pronunciation for a rather impossible anatomical act, and laughing, switched back to his main comm channel.
"All right Tar squadrons, don't hit that atmosphere too hard, or you'll regret it."
He hated atmosphere fighting, where anything much beyond a click a second was far too much. He bled off speed, watching the nav screen which was plotting out his trajectory, a thin blue line on the bottom of the screen showing the edge of the atmosphere. He felt the controls go mushy, the Rapier's computer automatically switching from thrusters to wing control surfaces. Fuel was now going to be a constant concern; flying inside the atmosphere, the hydrogen scoops would simply create too much drag. He closed the scoops and soared in.
Behind him the rest of the Rapier and Sabre squadrons were following. Doomsday peeled off, taking two craft with him to hit a suspected communication and control sector several hundred clicks from the landing areas, other fighters and bombers turning off seconds later to hit their assigned targets.
A light cloud cover was ahead, high in the atmosphere. He punched through and below him, clear in the shimmering desert heat, was his target, the base clearly visible in the middle of a high plateau. The planet was a scorched ball of desert with atmospheric density nearly a third higher than Earth standard, and gravity .2 above that of Earth's. The only habitable places were on high plateaus and mountain peaks, where the air was thinner, and the temperature a tolerable hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
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