End Run

by William R. Forstchen

  The door slammed open again, and Svetlana entered. Next came two ship commanders, one of whom Jason smiled at, remembering him as a destroyer commander who had picked him up several years back after he was forced to eject. The commander, recognizing Jason, smiled in return.

  "Congratulations on your promotion, Bear."

  "Thanks, sir, I wouldn't have been here to get it if you hadn't risked your neck to reel me in."

  "Know this lad, Grierson?" Tolwyn asked.

  "Let's just say we shared a little fun with a tractor beam while a couple of Kilrathi destroyers were on our tail."

  The commando battalion commander and finally O'Brian entered the room, O'Brian looking around nervously.

  "Gentlemen," Banbridge said, his voice flat, "from the security procedure instituted here, I don't think it is necessary to tell you that this little meeting of ours has an A-level security assigned to it. Any violation of this security is deemed to be a capital offense in time of war. Do we understand each other?"

  Jason saw O'Brian's features, already pale, go even whiter.

  "You all heard the briefing and before we continue I want to know what you think of the plan."

  The room was silent. Jason looked around and though realizing that caution on the part of junior officers was a basic tenet of survival he decided to speak up anyhow.

  "A gutsy move, Admiral."

  Banbridge smiled.

  "Thank you, Commander."

  "But frankly, sir, I think you're going to get your butt kicked."

  Banbridge looked at Jason and there was a flicker of emotion. Tolwyn smiled and turned slightly so Banbridge couldn't see his reaction.

  "You're out of line, mister," O'Brian growled. "Admiral, I want to apologize—"

  "Go on," Banbridge said, cutting O'Brian off, "Bondarevsky, isn't it?"

  "Sir, you said eight, possibly ten, carriers will be in the Kilrathi home fleet that comes out to take Vukar. These won't be second-rate fliers, the home guard variety who are rusty and wear gold-plated armor. These will be their elite forces. Home fleet assignment in the Kilrathi Empire goes only to veterans and is considered an honor, since they are under the direct eye of the Emperor himself. It's also a Kilrathi tradition to keep the best in reserve to protect the Imperial throne, not only from external enemies but also internal. It's part and parcel of their political system. If you don't keep the best fliers in your vest pocket, one of your potential rivals might have them in his."

  "Are you saying that our pilots aren't a match for them?"

  "Admiral Tolwyn can answer that better than I can, sir. The Concordia's met Imperial Guard and kicked their butts, and I've done my share of kicking. But, sir, you are talking about odds of up to two and a half to one. If they cripple but one of our carriers, the odds instantly jump to over three to one. We could take down five of their ships and they'd still be ahead of us."

  He hesitated for a moment.

  "I don't know what production is like back home, but I never did trust the promises of all those new ships we kept hearing about. Sir, as far as I know we simply don't have any more reserves. We've lost half our fleet carriers in the last year. We lose four more in a single action and those furballs will be at Earth's front door."

  "The best defense is a good offense," Banbridge said quietly.

  "I agree, sir. That's why I said it was a gutsy move, but you wanted an opinion and I guess I just gave it to you."

  Banbridge looked at Jason closely and Jason found himself wondering if he had just sunk his career and would be working a security patrol base at the far end of the confederation until his teeth and hair finally fell out.

  O'Brian looked over at Jason with barely concealed rage.

  "Mr. Bondarevsky," Banbridge finally replied, "four weeks ago I took part in a series of full-scale computer-holo simulations of the battle we are planning at Vukar. That simulation confirmed exactly what you just said. If the Kilrathi arrive with ten carriers, we will most likely kill three, perhaps as many as five in the first strike. But that will leave five left over, and half our strike fighters and bombers already out of the fight due to damage or depletion."

  Jason felt his blood chill at the term depletion. What it meant was that more than one of his friends would be floating through space, torn into tiny chunks of frozen, flame-scorched meat.

  "After our first strike they will reorganize, pursue, and most likely destroy our carriers in turn, perhaps losing two or three more of their ships in the process if we should decide to strip our own defensive combat patrol and sortie them straight in for another offensive strike. We replayed that simulation from every angle possible and it came out the same."

  "Quite frankly, and quite coldly, it'd be worth the trade-off if we were outproducing them in capital ships and trained pilots, but we are not. We're just barely hanging on. You are right, if we lose four more fleet carriers, half of all we've got left, the war is lost."

  Banbridge sighed and leaned back in his chair. Jason wanted to ask him why he was then going to pursue the attack anyhow but knew he was going to get the answer, and had said too much already.

  "Out of that simulation came a plan. What we have to do is to divert three, better yet four of the enemy carriers. If we're facing six or seven rather than nine or ten, we just might clean their clocks. What we have to do is get them to split their fleet."

  Jason looked around the room.

  "And I guess that's where we come in," Captain Grierson said quietly.

  The Admiral nodded.

  "As of this moment Tarawa and the escort ships Intrepid and Kagimasha are hereby designated Strike Force Valkyrie. The First Marine Battalion is hereby reassigned for transport aboard the Tarawa with ten landing craft. Captain O'Brian, you are hereby promoted to acting commodore of this strike force."

  O'Brian puffed up visibly and smiled.

  "And your mission is this, gentlemen."

  Banbridge reached into a briefcase and pulled out a small portable computer and holo projector and opened it. A three-dimensional image of a sector of space suddenly appeared to float in the middle of the room over the desk.

  "Holy mother," Jason whispered and Banbridge smiled.

  "Your mission is to drive straight into the heart of the Kilrathi Empire and to launch a strike on their home system."

  O'Brian's features instantly deflated and a look of near panic filled his eyes. Jason looked over at him, expecting the man to instantly break down. O'Brian lowered his head.

  "If anything will split off the home fleet it will be this action. We've traced out a route into the Empire which will follow back trade lanes, using a recently discovered jump point that will take you across a dozen sectors in a single leap. From there, you'll be down into the bottom side of the Empire nearly five hundred parsecs from here and just four jumps from their home world of Kilrah. You'll then drive straight up, relying on speed and stealth. The key point, however, is that you will let the Kilrathi know you're coming."

  "Know we're coming?" O'Brian asked, his voice a barely controlled whisper.

  "Precisely, that's the heart of the plan. We expect that once you've completed that long jump, the Kilrathi home fleet will be over halfway out here to Vukar and then, suddenly, you push the backdoor alarm bell. They'll be between a rock and a hard place. They won't know about the trap waiting at Vukar, but they will know about you. We expect that interior defenses will be damn near stripped for their offensive. Ignore you, and the home planet gets a hell of a shaking up. Abandon the offensive and race back home and honor is lost for not immediately retaking Vukar."

  "So they'll split off several of their carriers to come back in and take care of us, while the rest of the fleet presses on to avenge the honor of the Dowager Empress," Svetlana said quietly.

  "Precisely," Banbridge said, his features grim, as if the battle was already joined. "They'll walk into the trap with part of their fleet missing and we'll smash it to pieces. If it works, it just might trigger a political cri
sis that could bring down the Emperor himself and at the very least we'll have bagged half a dozen of their finest capital ships."

  "It's a hell of a plan," Grierson said, "but frankly sir, what about us? I mean, I was sort of counting on being in on the victory parade and telling my grandkids how I helped win the great Kilrathi War."

  Banbridge nodded and looked over at Tolwyn as if expecting him to speak. Tolwyn remained silent and Jason sensed that all was not right between the two.

  "You're on your own," Banbridge said quietly. "I expect your task force to reach the home system of the Kilrathi. Do as much damage as you can, though I should add that for political reasons, the Emperor's residence is off-limits for right now. We have information that the outer moon orbiting Kilrah is a major military construction base and naval yard and I would suggest that as your primary target. We could bomb their capital for propaganda purposes but I want hard results that are going to help us out here on the front line."

  "Damn, I wanted to see the Emperor fry," Jason snapped out angrily. "If we're going to be that close, why not go for the head furball and waste him?"

  "We're trying to trigger a civil war here, not a holy war of revenge, so he is strictly off limits. If we hit him the entire Empire will bury its differences, unite under Prince Thrakhath, and go absolutely berserk," Banbridge said coldly.

  "The second moon of the home planet is nothing but one giant military base and carrier construction center; it's an ideal target worth hitting and the one I'd recommend, but our surveillance is sketchy so that is not a hard and fast order."

  "You are to stay in the area until the Kilrathi fleet jumps back in after you. Once that happens, we expect to already be engaged at Vukar. We've traced out several escape and evasion routes; get out, and make a run for it."

  There were a million things Jason wanted to say but knew that there was no sense to it now. He looked at the map, tracing out the lines of approach and suggested retreat. He knew as well that they'd never come back. The Tarawa was not a fleet carrier, it simply didn't have the punch to cut a way through.

  It was a ship designed to be expendable.

  Banbridge looked around the room, his eyes fixed as if he wanted to say more but couldn't.

  "A team of security people will report to your ships in exactly ninety minutes to load the flight plan into your ship's navigation computers, along with our latest intelligence regarding jump point positions and routes within the Kilrathi Empire. That is highly classified information and this will be the first time the Kilrathi find out just how much we know. A lot of good people died getting the intelligence data for Vukar Tag and on their internal defenses. We're blowing a lot of highly classified information on this raid, gentlemen, so I expect you to make it worth something. Your nav centers will be guarded until your departure which is slated for exactly seven and one half hours from now. Your crews are not to know the full extent of this mission until you are inside Kilrathi territory and have revealed your position.

  "Colonel Merritt, Lieutenant Commander Bondarevsky, and Captain Ivanova, a special team will brief you on potential landing sites and air-to-ground strike targets, based upon what little intelligence we have, and I want a strike plan profile from the three of you before you depart."

  Jason realized that if they were lost no information would ever come back as to what they accomplished. Banbridge wanted the strike plan before departure so that a rough assessment might be made later of what happened if they did get through to the target.

  "Colonel Merritt, you are to move your battalion on board the Tarawa. New landing craft, fully loaded with combat supplies will come over from the 12th Marine transport ship Weisbaden. Those craft will pick up your battalion, move them to Tarawa, and your people will travel aboard that ship."

  "Sir, our flight deck is already crammed to the gills," Jason said.

  "Then it'll be even more crowded," Banbridge replied.

  Jason looked over at O'Brian as if expecting some backup, but the captain was still in shock, sitting silently, hands folded.

  Banbridge looked around the room one last time.

  "Good luck, God's speed, and good hunting," he said, his voice suddenly husky. He stood up and strode out of the room, Tolwyn following.

  "Into the valley of death rode the six hundred," Merritt whispered.

  "Well, I'd better go check on my life insurance policy, see if I have time to double it," Grierson sighed, as he stood up and walked out of the room.

  Jason looked over at Svetlana who sat back calmly, forcing a weak smile. Her commander got up and she followed him out, along with the other two escort ship commanders.

  "We're all going to die," O'Brian whispered, looking up at Jason.

  "Sir, you've got to pull yourself together."

  "We're all going to die."

  "I know that, sir. We're in the hole, but for God's sake, sir, you've got to lead us."

  O'Brian sat silently.

  "However I can help, sir, let me do it."

  O'Brian looked up at him.

  "I knew it all along. You're out after my job, but I'll be damned if you ever get it."

  Startled, Jason stepped back as O'Brian stood up.

  "There's a plan within a plan, I tell you that. I know the right people. They'll send someone in to get us out; they just can't tell us for security reasons. They wouldn't leave me out there to die."

  He smiled.

  "Yes, that's it, and we'll all come back heroes. That's it."

  He walked out of the room.

  Not sure if he was more shaken by O'Brian or by the briefing, Jason slowly followed after him.

  "Bear."

  Jason looked up to see Tolwyn standing in a side corridor motioning for him to follow.

  Jason walked down the hallway and followed Tolwyn into a small wardroom, the Admiral closing the door behind them.

  "Have a seat, son."

  "I've got to get my captain back to the ship."

  "It'll wait."

  Tolwyn went over to a side cabinet, pulled out a small bottle, and poured himself a drink. He looked over at Jason.

  "Sorry, bad manners, you've got to fly."

  "It's all right, sir, I'll have a good stiff one once I'm back on Tarawa."

  "It's a hell of a mess I got you, Starlight, and Doomsday into," Tolwyn said quietly. "I had no idea about the Tarawa's mission when I was asked to pick out my best people for a new command. I thought I was doing you a favor."

  "It's all right, sir," Jason said quietly.

  "No, damn it, it's not all right," Tolwyn snapped. "The military lives and dies by its oaths and promises. You pledge to serve and obey. For some countries, in some wars, that's as far as the deal goes. If you, her warriors, get lost, or taken prisoner, and it's expedient for a bunch of lousy politicians to turn their backs on you and forget you, well that's all right. But a country that does that to its soldiers is nothing better than a whore and its leaders should be dragged out and shot."

  "I wouldn't say that in public if I were you, Admiral."

  Tolwyn smiled. "But I can still think it. A system worth fighting for makes the pledge go both ways. You fight for us, but by God we'll sacrifice everything we have to get you back. If you're willing to risk your life to protect us, then we're willing to risk all our treasures, our careers, everything to bring you back. No one gets left behind, ever. A country that abandons its soldiers and does nothing to save them isn't worth a pinch of owl dung."

  Jason was quiet, realizing yet again why he would not hesitate to lay down his life for this man.

  "I feel like hell over this deal, Jason. The Confederation is in desperate straits. A year ago it looked like we were finally getting the edge, but you know as well as I that the last year's been a disaster. If we don't turn things around, and damned fast, the Kilrathi will be dictating peace terms in the burned out wreckage of Confederation Headquarters back on Earth. That's why Banbridge decided to make you expendable. That's what the Tarawa and other ships
like her were built for."

  "I understand that," Jason said quietly.

  "If you were all volunteers maybe I could deal with it. But you're not. I suggested that route but Fleet security said asking for nearly fifteen hundred volunteers would be a dead giveaway that something was up, and besides there simply isn't time."

  "So we got picked."

  "You got picked."

  Jason didn't know what more to say.

  "Son, I'm not going to leave you out there. I'll do whatever I can to get you out and that is a promise."

  Jason felt his eyes start to sting. He had never really known his father, but he found himself imagining that he was most likely cut from the same cloth as the man in front of him.

  Jason nodded his thanks.

  "Can I ask one favor?" Tolwyn said.

  "Anything."

  "Tell me about Kevin."

  Jason sighed and looked back at the Admiral. He couldn't give anything less than the truth and he told the admiral about the arrogance, the spoiled haughty displays, the loss of the Sabre, and how he had grounded Kevin until further notice.

  Tolwyn's features reddened.

  "O'Brian grabbed me in the corridor and told me about it, but his version was rather different," Tolwyn said quietly. "Claims you were riding him too hard."

  "I'm riding him hard because I think he's got the makings of a first-rate combat pilot. He'll get his wings back and he'll do well, once he gets that pampered defiant streak out of him."

  Tolwyn smiled.

  "My sister-in-law," he said, shaking his head. "All caught up with the family name and wealth. Wants the lad to be a nice clean career officer, an adjutant in some safe brownnosing job where he'll reach admiral through the political route. Gods, how we've fought over that boy."

  Tolwyn looked away for a moment.

  "Tell me about O'Brian."

  "Sir?"