Chapter Five
Blair settled in the Hellcats cockpit and snapped his helmet on. Maniac kissed the side of his fighter before climbing the short ladder and leaping inside. Blair rolled his eyes. Marshall's rituals were known throughout the Fleet.
He laughed to himself as he plugged his helmet into the console and cued his comm-panel to Lieutenant Naismith's flight control center. "What's the mission?" he heard Maniac ask, his voice all business. Blair had to remind himself that he was merely an observer and that the ready group was Marshall's to command. He had often used the observer loophole on board the Victory to fly in the wing slot so he could rate his subordinates' combat abilities. It served here to preserve Maniac as the commander of record for promotion purposes.
He was surprised when Paulson cut into Naismith's frequency. "Major," Paulson said, "we've got a critical situation on our hands. Captain Eisen has stolen a shuttle and fled the Lexington."
"What?" Marshall snapped, forgetting all discipline. "Would you repeat that?" Maniac said, after a moment.
"Eisen has jumped ship," Paulson repeated. "You are to bring him back."
"What if he won't come back?" Maniac asked.
"Then you are to destroy the shuttle," Paulson said simply, "by any means necessary."
Blair looked at Maniac. Marshall's expression of disbelief matched his. "You can't be serious," Maniac snapped.
"I'm very serious, Major," Paulson replied, his voice growing angry. "You have your orders. You are to terminate him with extreme prejudice if he doesn't return at once."
Blair shook his head. Terminate with extreme prejudice? That was the kind of language normally reserved for the holo-vids, not for real life. What the hell was Paulson playing at?
"Execute your orders, Major," Paulson said. "Now."
"Aye, aye, sir," Maniac said skeptically. "Ready Group Four prep for launch."
Naismith came on the net, his voice carefully neutral. "Roger, Cobra Leader. Stand by for ready group scramble on base course two-twelve Z plus ten. Your target is Lexington shuttle Oh-One-Four. Commence launch operations in three-zero seconds."
"I copy target as Zero-One-Four," Maniac repeated. "Ready for launch." Blair heard him mutter under his breath. "I wouldn't want to blow up the wrong shuttle."
Blair was fifth in the chute of eight ships, giving him plenty of time to brood. He knew Eisen faced charges in the Admiralty Court
, but hadn't taken them seriously. Judge Harnetts court job during the war was keeping civilian shipping in line. Blair considered it a joke—a home for wayward admirals who were kept busy by issuing fines and stern lectures to ship owners. Its authority had rarely been extended to serving officers.
The captain had been the darling of the press after the attack on Kilrah. Blair was certain Harnett would never actually put him through a trial for fear of the political repercussions.
Besides, Blair told himself, Judge Harnett and Eisen were both Fleet. The Fleet looked after its own. Nothing would happen, even if Eisen was guilty. The Fleet hated the embarrassment of showing its dirty laundry, and as a consequence often covered for the stupid and the incompetent. Eisen had to know the political factors swung too strongly in his direction for him to be seriously worried.
So why jump ship? That thought nagged at Blair as his launch cradle hurtled him down the tube and out into space. He formed on Maniacs wing as the squadron commander's voice crackled in his headset. "Cobra Leader to Cobra Four, form on me. Assume course two-one-two, speed 700 KPS on afterburners."
The fighters locked into formation and boosted towards the fleeing shuttle. Blair chewed his lip, wondering what Maniac would do once they got to the scene. He could, in theory, override any order Marshall gave. Such an action would leave him subject to professional protest. He was, after all, supposed to be an observer.
He saw a blue dot appear at extreme range. Blair switched to his targeting system and locked onto the shuttle. He watched the range steadily diminish as they overtook the slower ship.
"Cobra Leader to Eisen, please respond."
"I'm here, Maniac," Eisen answered at once. He sounded jaunty to Blair, as though he hadn't a care in the universe. "Maniac, remember that old drink you introduced me to? What was it called? Blue Two, wasn't it?"
Blair frowned. Eisen was telling them to switch to an old scrambler channel they had used on the Victory. Eisen's request to use a non-standard frequency would land Maniac and himself in hot water once they got back on the Lexington if Paulson figured out what they were doing. Maniac paused, apparently also torn over whether to comply.
"Great drink," Blair said, taking the bull by the horns. "Wish we had one now." He had to manually key in the frequency, then lock in a non-standard scrambler pattern. Maniac followed a second later, his voice sounding hollow as it ran through the scrambler.
"What th' hell are you doin', Cap'n?" Maniac demanded.
"Well," Eisen replied, "it's pretty obvious that I'm not out here for my health. Not with you yahoos gunning for me.
Blair scratched his forehead in disbelief. Eisen sounded far too relaxed considering the seriousness of the situation. "Then, why are you out here, sir?" Blair asked.
"I'd have thought that was pretty obvious, Colonel," Eisen answered, "I'm defecting." He paused. "Chris, Todd, it's something you should give serious thought to as well."
"This is insane," Blair answered, "why are you doing this?"
"I don't have any choice," Eisen answered, "but I have my reasons—good ones, I assure you."
"What reasons?" Blair pressed.
"Sorry, Chris," Eisen answered, "I can't go into that now. I can't be certain how secure this channel is."
"What do you care?" Maniac injected. "You've already gone over the wall."
"What I know is too damned explosive to transmit where anyone with a recorder and a decrypter can hear it."
Blair tried to suppress his confusion and outrage. "Cap," he said, "you can't expect us to take all this on faith."
"Actually, Chris," Eisen replied, "that's exactly what I'm expecting. We've known each other a long time. Do you really believe I'd ask you to turn your coat without having good reason?"
Blair felt ill. "I've served the Confederation for twenty years," he said, "regardless of what it's cost me." He thought of Jeannette Devereaux and felt the old grief well up. He shook his head, trying to force down the welter of emotions within him. "Captain… Bill," he cajoled, "come on back. Let's get this sorted out."
"Sorry, Chris," Eisen said, "no can do. Given what I know, and what I've found out, I'd never make it to trial. I bet Paulson ordered you to bring me in 'dead or alive' didn't he?'
Blair winced, embarrassed to reply.
"What I figured. I jumped because I had to if I want the truth known. I stand as much chance of making it to trial as a Cat jailer showing up at a convention of former POWs. This is the only way."
Blair looked at his diminishing weapons ranges. Eisens shutde was within extreme laser shot. His duty, his orders, were to kill his friend. He knew, even as he checked his weapons configuration, that he couldn't do it.
"Colonel," Maniac said, "I've got bogies inbound from the jump point up ahead. I'd say from their speed that they're light jobs, maybe Arrows or Ferrets. What do we do?"
Blair heard his scanner click to the fighters' frequency. "Cobra Four to Cobra leader, I picked up Lex's traffic control authorizing launches from the starboard bay, where the spookies are." His voice sounded worried to Blair. "I got two, four, six… ten Hellcats… all heading towards us."
Another voice, cold as an arctic wind, broke into the channel. "Banshee Leader to Cobra Leader. I am assuming control of your flight. Complete your orders. Engage the shuttle."
"Well," Maniac said, using the channel he shared with Eisen and Blair, "that tears it. What do I do, Colonel?"
"You obey orders," Blair replied, "my orders." He switched back to the main tactical frequency. "Tiger to Cobra Leader. Form your element on m
y wing and wait for instructions. Disregard Banshee Leader." He glanced around him at the other three Hellcats as they shuffled positions.
"Ah, Colonel Blair," the cold voice said in his earpiece, "what a pleasant surprise. Execute your orders."
"I command this wing," Blair snapped, "and I don't appreciate having my people co-opted. Who the hell are you?"
"Your command is… suspended," the cold voice replied, "by order of the Lexington's commanding officer."
The casual arrogance in the voice annoyed Blair as much as the words. "Wrong," he replied tightly, "I don't accept your authority." He paused. "And get the hell off my channel."
"You will regret this, Colonel," the cold voice said.
Blair looked at his tactical plot. The shuttle was in plain view, centered and locked in his sights. He hastily switched to his navigation plot. The intercepting fighters and Banshee Hellcats converged on the shuttle, with
Maniacs small ready group directly between them.
Blair saw the drive plumes of the first rebel light fighter in the distance. His scanner clicked as Eisen keyed his microphone. "Todd, Chris," he said, "this is the moment of truth. Believe me, I did not enter into this lightly. There are terrible things happening, things I couldn't be a part of—things I know you would not want to be a part of. Join me… help me put a stop to it."
"Help you put a stop to what?" Blair demanded. "Tell me!"
"I can't," Eisen said, "not here, not without compromising too much."
"I can't do this," Blair said, deeply torn. He couldn't accept that Eisen, who had been his friend, mentor, and superior, would commit treason—not even when the evidence stared him in the face. Had Eisen discovered a secret so vile that his conscience compelled him to defect? His own doubts about the mission and the conversation Maniac had played for him nagged at him. Could Eisen be right?
Duty won over doubt, but not by much. "I can't just walk out," he said, his voice firming as he made his decision, "not like this, not without something tangible. I gave my oath."
"I understand, Chris," Eisen said in a disappointed voice. "You have your duty… and I have mine."
Blair closed the channel and checked the nav plot. He would not, could not destroy the shuttle. His friendship with Eisen was too strong for him to even consider that as a possibility. There was therefore no reason to engage his fighters against the interceptors and risk his wingmates. It was time to get them out from between the converging fighters and the impending battle.
He switched back to the ready groups main tactical frequency. "Tiger to Cobra elements. Stand by to come about. We're going home. Assume course zero-three-two for the Lexington, Z plus thirty until we get past the Banshees."
Blair brought his Hellcat around, closely followed by the section. He didn't realize at first that Maniac and his wingmate maintained their old course, boring in on the shuttle. "NO, Maniac!" Blair yelled as Maniac set up his attack run. "Colonel," Maniac said, his voice calm and cool, "you made your decision. Now I'll make mine."
The Hellcat accelerated towards the shuttle, picking up speed as it bored in on the defenseless ship. Blair looked on in horror as Maniac's Hellcat swept in, lining up for a belly shot that would gut the little ship and erase its pilot. "Damn you, Maniac," Blair swore into his throat mike, "abort your attack!"
Blair nearly turned his own ship to pursue Maniac, but held off as the interceptors closed on the Hellcat. Blair saw they were still too far from Eisen to be any help to him. He felt sick as he watched Maniac close on Eisen, who made no effort to evade.
Maniac veered away at the last second to take up station on Eisen's port side. Blair stared in shock as the realization sank in that Maniac had intended defection, rather than attack. He watched as the two Hellcats flew close escort over the shuttle. The approaching fighters swarmed protectively around them. Blairs disquiet at Maniac's unexpected defection was balanced by his quiet relief that Marshall would be there to defend Eisen from the Banshees.
"Sorry, Colonel," Maniac said, "but after Tyr, I'm betting the Cap'ns right."
"Damn you, Blair," Banshee Leader said as Maniac signed off, "you had your orders. You were to stop that shuttle. You'll pay for this."
Blair felt his temper heat at the Banshee leader's arrogant tone. He managed to restrain himself from making an obscene remark on the open channel. "I told you once to get off my channel," he growled, "whoever the hell you are."
Blair and his wingmate angled towards the rest of the ready group. The Banshee ships flashed past, hitting full afterburners as they blazed after the shuttle and its protectors. Blair hoped the shuttle, and escort, had enough of a head start to get away, if only to spite Banshee Leader.
The leading Hellcats closed enough to take the trailing edges of the fleeing group under fire. Blair watched from far astern as the Hellcat leader singled out one Ferret for attention, then methodically picked it apart. He was relieved to see a yellow blip appear on his tactical screen as the Ferret's pilot ejected. "Now we'll have some answers," he mumbled.
The rebel fighters began to vanish through a jump point ahead. Blair felt his eyebrows hike up into his head. How the hell did they accomplish that? The only fighter he knew of that had been jump capable had been the Excalibur he'd used to bomb Kilrah. Regular deck fighters shouldn't be able to manage the trick. He watched, stunned, as fighter after fighter vanished in a blue-white flash through the jump point.
"Damn! Damn! DAMN!" Banshee Leader swore. Blair could sense underlying tones of frustration and fury in the man's voice. Good, he thought to himself, you can be touched.
The black Hellcats swirled around the jump point, checking to make sure their quarry had truly escaped.
"Banshee Leader to Banshees, stand by to return home." Blair thought he'd recovered very quickly from his fit of pique. "Form on my wing." The black Hellcats quickly assembled and turned about. The leader dodged out of formation long enough to lock onto the pilot's escape pod with a tractor beam.
Blair led the glum and diminished Cobra flight back towards the Lexington, all the while keeping a careful eye on the Banshees, who had assumed a parallel course. Blair found his attention drawn to the thin blue streamer that reeled the captured pilot in towards the Banshee's wing. Blair watched as the Banshee pilot made the delicate corrections necessary to attach the lifepod to an unused underwing hardpoint.
Blair relaxed slightly as the pilot made the trap. The ability to perform an SAR function had been a design afterthought. Only a few of the latest model Hellcats had the equipment, and the system had never worked well in the field. Blair considered the trap a success more as a result of the pilots skill rather than through any particular virtue of the hardware.
He grinned as he glanced at the pod nesting beneath the wing. It was the first live prisoner they'd captured. Blair hoped the pilot would be able to shed some light on what the hell was going on.
He frowned, thinking over this encounter with the Border Worlds forces and his comrades' defections. The whole situation seemed to be spinning out of control. Human killing human had been a daily event for thousands of years, and not worth comment. Somehow, the cooperation needed by humans to survive the Kilrathi had changed that. The idea of human fratricide seemed obscene to him. He thought of the chaos the Kilrathi civilization had fallen into. Their Clans were locked into a five-way civil war and torn by interfactional warfare. Was that the direction in which humanity was heading?
The thought of Maniac reminded him of one other loose end he had to tie up. He reached under the instrument console and removed the flight recorder. He used the metal clip on his pen to short out the poles and wipe the volatile memory core, zapping any record of his conversations with Eisen. He was safe, thanks to Maniac, unless they'd bugged his cockpit. He stiffened, alarmed at the possibility until he remembered that his decision to join the patrol had been a spur of the moment thing. He shook his head, annoyed with himself. He wondered, as he replaced the flight recorder, if he was getting paranoid.<
br />
He remembered an old adage, "even paranoids have enemies," which was enough to keep him on pins and needles until the carrier hove into sight. He normally felt the relief of being home, but the realization that he was not among friends made his stomach tense.
He entered the landing cycle, and was somewhat surprised to see the Banshee Leaders Hellcat enter the same pattern, rather than landing on the starboard side with the others.
He watched as the Banshee pilot delicately maneuvered his ship alongside the Lexingtons drive plume, all the while being careful not to expose the captured pilot to the exhaust. The black ships pilot carefully rotated the ship in space and gently nosed his ship into the crossing fields of the Lex's tractors. The operator controlling the tractor turrets had an especially soft touch. He brought the fighter through the force curtain and into the landing bay with little more than a bump.
Blair followed the black Hellcat into the port landing bay. The gravity and air had been restored, roughening what otherwise would have been a smooth touchdown. He popped his canopy even before the fuel regulators and drive turbines cycled down, placed the helmet on the control yoke, and removed his restraining harness. The recovery crew looked up, startled, as he slid his legs over the side of the cockpit and dropped to the ground.
He unhooked the throat catch to his flight suit as he stormed towards the black ship. The Banshee pilot, still wearing his helmet, crossed to where two Marines held the slumping prisoner between them. Medtechs clustered around, pointing diagnostics equipment at the unfortunate young man who stirred briefly in the Marines' tight grip.
Banshee Leader stepped up to the captured pilot and removed his helmet. Somehow, Blair was not surprised to see Seether had been Banshee Leader, and that he had led the reaction from the starboard bay. The black Hellcats were very well armed for a research team, he noticed.
Seether tossed his helmet to the Marine on the prisoner's left. "What ship are you from?"
The young pilot, shaking with fear, answered in a quavering voice. "P-provisional L-1-lieutenant K-Kyle Lee, sir," the man stammered, "o-of the B-border Worlds Union. S-serial number 284H5237." He tried to straighten and come to attention. "According't-to the Geneva C-convention, that's all I h-have to tell you." He stared at the floor, shivering and silent.
The Price of Freedom Page 14
