different
from his previous heading . . . straight toward the Behemoth.
     With  a  shock,  Blair realized that  the  pilot's new course  had  his
fighter aimed directly at one of the exposed shield generator  housings that
Tolwyn had indicated as a weak point in the weapons platform's defenses. The
Kilrathi pilot had decided to make his death count. . . .
     The Strakha came apart, but hurtling chunks of debris stayed on course,
raining on the surface  of the Behemoth. A ripple of explosions erupted from
the huge vessel's hull. A moment later, two nearby Kilrathi ships  let loose
missile  barrages to take  advantage  of collapsing  shields on the weapons'
platform. Flint and Maniac  accounted for the two cats,  but the damage  was
already done.
     Blair could  see lifepods and shuttles detaching from the  Behemoth  as
the  explosions  spread  and swelled.  He  pulled up sharply,  steering back
through a gauntlet of Kilrathi Strakha,  knowing he had to put some distance
between his fragile fighter and the doomed planetkiller.
     The final explosion, when it came, overwhelmed his sensors and external
cameras.  For a moment  he was  flying  blind, buffeted by  spinning bits of
metal and stray shots from enemy fighters. Kilrathi  jeers and  taunts  were
loud on the comm channel, a demonic cacophony of hate and glee.
     Behemoth was gone. . . .
     Elsewhere,  the  Kilrathi  fighters  were   turning  away.  The  Terran
resistance had been stiff, and with the  destruction of the weapons platform
their mission  was  accomplished. As the Kilrathi  began to withdraw  in the
direction of their capital ships, Blair ordered the  flight wing  to regroup
near Victory. No one offered to pursue the retiring foe.
     Tolwyn's face appeared on Blair's comm screen. "I'm  ordering the fleet
to withdraw,  he said, shock and pain etched plainly on his face. "Ajax will
stall the enemy fleet as long as possible. Land your fighters, Colonel." The
admiral's shoulders seemed to sag. "It seems we've lost  our last chance . .
."


        CHAPTER XXVI

     Flight Deck, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     The retreat from Loki had cost  the  flight  wing five more pilots, and
the  destroyer Ajax was destroyed while attempting to hold off the  enemy so
the rest of the squadron could  withdraw through  the jump  point. Still, it
might  have been  considered  a victory  of  sorts,  extracting  the  Terran
squadron from the trap at Loki VI . . .  if it  hadn't been for the loss  of
Behemoth.
     The last hope for mankind. . . that was how the Behemoth was described.
Now it was gone. And it was Christopher Blair who had failed in his duty  to
protect the weapon from the Kilrathi attack.
     The bitter thought  gnawed at Blair  as  he stood  on the flight  deck,
surrounded  by  other senior ship's officers. The failure had been his . . .
but   right  now,  it  was  Admiral  Geoff  Tolwyn  who  was  suffering  the
consequences of that failure. The orders came in two days after the squadron
retreated to the Blackmane System. They were conveyed by a fast courier ship
that had carried Tolwyn's report to sector HQ and then  returned. Tolwyn was
relieved of  command  over  the erstwhile Behemoth Project. He was to strike
his flag aboard Victory and return to  Torgo immediately to face  an inquiry
into his handling of the entire operation.
     Victory, meanwhile, was to maintain position and complete field repairs
pending the arrival of a new squadron commander. No one aboard was sure what
that portended
     Tolwyn  dressed as  precisely as  ever, but  defeat was  plain  in  his
carriage as  he stepped onto the flight deck, his staff trailing behind him.
The admiral  did  not  seem surprised  to  note that the turnout to see  his
departure was smaller and less  impressive than upon his  arrival. His  star
fell, and  he  with  it. Tolwyn was  well aware of  the fact.  He stopped to
return Eisen's crisp salute.
     "I relieve you, sir," the captain said quietly.
     "I stand relieved," Tolwyn replied. "Permission to leave the ship?"
     "Granted, Admiral." Eisen saluted a second time.
     "A word of warning," Tolwyn said, again returning the salute. "The cats
knew exactly where we were going, and when. They even knew exactly where  to
strike." He paused, running a sour eye over  the  assembled  officers behind
Eisen. His gaze seemed to come to rest on Blair. "I believe  you may  have a
leaky ship, Captain."
     "With  all  due respect, sir,"  Eisen responded stiffly. "I  resent any
such  suggestion  regarding  my  people.  They've  served  this ship and the
Confederation with honor, one and all. There are  never  any guarantees when
it comes to battle, Admiral. And no such thing as certain victory, no matter
how awesome your weapon may be."
     Tolwyn's expression was bleak. "Victory is certain enough now, Captain,
for the Kilrathi. I hope  the honor of your crew is  enough, in the fighting
that lies ahead. It will only get worse from here."
     He turned away  and stalked toward the  shuttle without  another  word.
Climbing  the ramp, he turned back to look at the flight deck one last time,
and again Blair felt that the admiral's gaze singled him from the rest. Then
Tolwyn boarded the craft, and  the door swung shut behind him. The assembled
officers and men withdrew as the shuttle powered up.
     The hangar area was empty by the time the shuttle rolled  onto the open
deck beyond the force field curtain, rising slowly away from the carrier and
into the black void.

     Bridge, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     "Captain, we've got a ship coming  through the Torgo jump  point. Looks
like a big one . . ."
     "On the main monitor," Eisen ordered, leaning forward in his chair. The
viewscreen showed a computer-enhanced view  of open  space, with no  outward
sign of the jump point or the disturbance the sensors picked up indicating a
ship in transit.
     Four  days had passed since Tolwyn's departure, and aboard  Victory and
the other ships in the ill-fated Behemoth Squadron,  the passage of time was
starting to weigh heavily on crew morale. Being driven back with the loss of
the  weapons  platform — not to mention Ajax —  was bad  enough. But to wait
here, useless, without a word of the war from other quarters .  . . that was
even worse.
     A ship took form on the  viewscreen,  slightly larger  than Victory but
similar in configuration. It was one of the latest models of escort carrier,
but its sleek, modern lines were marred by battle damage.
     "Jesus,"  someone  muttered.  "Looks  like half  the  flight  deck  got
cooked."
     "Transponder code's on  line,  Captain," Rollins said a  moment  later.
"She's the Eagle. Captain Chalfonte."
     "Confirming," the sensor officer added a moment later.
     "Message  coming  in,  Rollins  reported.  "They're  sending  across  a
shuttle. No details,  sir. Just . . . sending a shuttle.  We're to  stand by
and await further communication."
     Eisen  nodded. "Very  well. Alert Flight Control  we  have  an incoming
shuttle.  Mr. Gessler,  you  have the bridge.  I'll be  in my ready room  if
there's anything further."

     Flight Control, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     "Victory, Victory, this is shuttle Armstrong. Request landing clearance
and approach vector.
     "Shuttle Armstrong, cleared to land," Blair replied.  He was standing a
turn as OOD in Flight Control, one more way to keep himself busy so  that he
wouldn't brood over recent events. He signaled to one  of the technicians to
activate the carriers approach beacon.
     The  shuttle skimmed low over the flight deck and allowed  the  tractor
beams to  lock on and pull it in. Blair monitored the landing,  and when the
stubby  little craft  was down,  he gave curt orders  to activate the  force
fields and revive pressure and gravity inside the hangar  area.  Behind him,
two of the techs were swapping speculations about the shuttle and its reason
for paying the ship a visit from Eagle, but Blair silenced them with a quick
look.
     The shuttle doors opened up, and a single stocky figure appeared at the
top of the ramp.  Blair stared, wide-eyed  as  the  man  glanced around  the
hangar deck and gave an approving nod of his graying  head. Rachel  Coriolis
appeared at  the bottom of the ramp, holding out a PDP so that the shuttle's
pilot could  log  in,  but  she  nearly dropped it as she  took  in the rank
insignia on the man's well-worn flight suit.
     It wasn't  often that  a  full general  visited  the flight  deck  of a
carrier.
     Blair wasted  no time in getting to the  flight deck to join Rachel. By
the time he reached the  shuttle, General James Taggart had descended to the
deck, taking the data pad  from the chief technician's hands. He was smiling
as he signed it and thrust it back at her.
     "There, now, lassie, ‘tis all legal and proper,"  the general said, his
thick  Scots accent a welcome reminder of better  days. He caught  sight  of
Blair  and his grin  broadened. "Och, lad, dinna hurry! I'm nae sae old that
ye maun rush tae see me before I keel over!"
     "Paladin!" Blair said, saluting the man who had been his first squadron
leader on the old Tiger's Claw. "Er . . . General . . .
     "Paladin I'll always be  tae my auld mates, laddie,"  Taggart told him,
returning  the  salute carelessly  and then seizing Blair's hand  in a  warm
handshake. " 'Tis aye good tae see ye again."
     "Why didn t someone  tell  us you were on the shuttle?" Blair demanded.
"We would  have  laid on a proper welcome." He was thinking of the  contrast
between Taggart's arrival and Tolwyn's just two weeks earlier.
     "Och, lad, I cannae be bothered with all the pomp  and circumstance. Ye
should ken that well enough by  now. The business I'm on doesna  allow  time
for all that folderol."
     "Business?"
     "Aye, lad."  Paladin stroked his salt-and-pepper beard and fixed  Blair
with a steely stare. "The business of putting right the mess Auld Geoff made
of  things, at Loki. I just hope ‘tis nae too late tae  salvage this  mess."
The general gave him another smile. "So,  if ye dinna mind,  lad, I need tae
see Captain Eisen as soon as may be. But I'll be  wanting tae talk to ye, as
well, soon enough."
     General  Taggart strode  briskly toward the door, leaving Blair behind.
Rachel exchanged glances with him.
     "That  was  General  Taggart?"  she  asked  as  Paladin's   broad  back
disappeared through the doorway.
     Blair nodded. "In the flesh."
     "Good God," the woman said  softly.  "I feel sorry for the Kilrathi who
gets in his way . . ."
     "The last  one who tried ended  up with  a  Paladin-sized hole in him,"
Blair agree. "I just wonder what the hell he's doing here. . .?"

     Wing Commander's Quarters, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     The door buzzer made an irritating noise, and Blair swung his feet from
his bunk  and said "Enter" just to shut it off.  He  wasn't surprised to see
Paladin when the door slid open. "Come in, General," he said formally.
     Taggart  cocked  an eyebrow at him.  "General,  is it,  again? Have  ye
decided tae go all formal on me, lad?"
     Blair shrugged wearily. "It's hard to think of you as Paladin any more,
you know. It's been a long time."
     "Those  were the good days, though, laddie," Paladin told him, crossing
the cramped cabin to perch on the only chair. "I wish I was still out on the
firing line with you young lads and lasses, instead of flying a bloody desk.
     "I wish you  were out here,  too," Blair told  him. "A  few more pilots
like we had in the old gang and we might've saved Behemoth last week."
     "That bucket of bolts," Paladin said, making a face. "Auld Geoff really
thought that monster of his would work. He always  believed that  bigger was
better."
     "You had  a better solution, I take it? Kevin said you had some  scheme
cooked up,  over in  Covert Ops." Blair couldn't  help  letting  some of his
anger show in the comment.
     Taggart studied  him. "I hear you  . .  . heard  about Angel," he said,
answering  Blair's  tone  rather  than  his  question.  "In  a  tangle  with
Thrakhath, no less."
     "Yes, I did, you son of a bitch."
     "I'm sorry that ye had tae find out that way."
     "How long have you known?" Blair demanded.
     Paladin didn't  answer right away.  "Since. . . since before  Concordia
was lost," he admitted.
     Blair felt  the  anger surging  within,  his fists  clenching  with the
sudden desire  to strike  out  at the  man. "You  bastard," he said. "When I
asked, you stood there and lied to me."
     "Laddie, I had to do it. I was under orders myself. . . ."
     "All the missions we flew together — they didn't mean a damn thing, did
they?" Blair demanded. "You out there on my wing, protecting me . . ."
     "Don't you  see  that's what I  was doing by  not telling you?" Paladin
said. "Look, ladie . . . look  what ye almost did out there, when ye learned
of it all. I was protecting you again . . . from yourself."
     Blair  looked away, at the holo projector  sitting  beside  his bed. He
hadn't played the message again since learning she was dead, but he heard it
in his dreams all too often. "You know what she meant to me."
     "Aye, lad,  I do indeed." Taggart paused. "But  we're  fighting  a war,
son. We've all lost someone close to us. It doesna make you special."
     "Yeah, right," Blair  said. "I've  heard  the whole routine  before. It
doesn't get better with repetition."
     Paladin shrugged. "I suppose not. But the fact is, lad, that we couldna
tell anyone about Angel. Not until now. Not without ruining the work she did
before she died."
     He didn't answer, but he met Taggart's eyes.
     "Her  last mission was a  part of my  project,  laddie.  Not sae grand,
perhaps, as  Auld Geoff and his Behemoth, But a way  tae end this  war, once
and  for all.  And  ‘tis  up tae  you, Chris Blair,  tae finish  what  Angel
started."

     Captain's Ready Room, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     Like his arrival, the  briefing  Paladin gave  the  next morning was  a
low-key affair.  Instead  of an audience  of aides and ship's officers,  the
general limited  the  briefing  to Blair  and  Eisen.  He  wasted no time on
useless preliminaries or self-congratulation.
     "We've got a lot to cover, and damned  little time to do it in."  Blair
always  noticed  that  Paladin's  accent faded  as he focused  on  important
matters, and today was no exception.  "Covert Ops lost out to Admiral Tolwyn
when it came time for HQ to decide on a response  to the Kilrathi biological
threat, but like  him we've had an operation in train for several years. Its
a long shot, I'll grant you, but it can work. It has to."
     Blair  noticed a look  of distaste  on  Eisen's  face.  After Behemoth,
another long shot was the last thing any of them wanted.
     "You hae  already been briefed  on  the seismic instability of Kilrah,"
Paladin  went on. "It was central  to the whole Behemoth project, the notion
that even if the weapon wasn't able to bust a planet cold, it could at least
shake the place  apart when  applied against the right  target.  Our project
tackled the same concept from anither  angle,  one more in keeping  with the
philosophy of Covert Ops."
     He punched a code into the  keypad in  front of him  and the  map table
came to life,  projecting  an image of a torpedo-shaped device into  the air
between the  three men. "This is the Temblor Bomb," he said quietly. "It was
developed by  Doctor  Philip  Severin, one  of  the top research men  in the
Confederation. It's  been undergoing tests for some time now . .  . nearly a
decade, in fact."
     The  view changed to schematics. It brought back unpleasant thoughts of
Tolwyn's Behemoth  lecture, and  Blair  shifted  uncomfortably in  his seat.
Eisen's face was a study  in bland neutrality as he regarded the holographic
image
     "The  bomb operates  on the  principle of  seismic resonance,"  Taggart
continued. "Detonated in the right place, at the proper juncture of tectonic
fault lines,  it  will set  up a series  of  quakes which will  increase  in
intensity until Kilrah is  quite literally shaken apart." Paladin spread his
hands.   "Unfortunately,   the  weapon   doesna  lend   itself   to   pretty
demonstrations  on backwater worlds. There's  only  a handful  of planets we
know of where the Temblor Bomb  could do  its work, and Kilrah is at the top
of the list.  The High Command  wanted  something they could escalate up  to
gradually,  so  they  threw their  weight  behind  Admiral  Tolwyn  and  the
Behemoth."
     Blair frowned. "I've said all along that I'm against — "
     "Laddie," Taggart said sternly. "I'd like nothing better than to find a
solution that didn't involve civilian casualties, but the simple fact is  we
do  not have one at hand."  He paused. "Right now we have to stop the Empire
cold. Not just a defeat, but a  final defeat. The Imperial hierarchy  is  so
centralized, so built around the idea of Kilrah as  the core of their entire
culture,  that the destruction  of the  planet  will bring the rest  of  the
Empire  to a halt. Even if there are a few warlords  who  want to fight, the
other  Kilrathi worlds will come apart  as clans  and factions  and splinter
groups  start fighting for a new  equilibrium.  And that's  our only hope of
bringing the war to a quick end."
     Eisen  looked  at  him.  "The  brass  must  have thought  a  negotiated
settlement  was possible," he commented. "They wanted Tolwyn  to demonstrate
Behemoth and make the Kilrathi come to the peace table."
     "Aye,  that  was the hope," Paladin  admitted  slowly. "Though you must
know  that the admiral had  no plans tae stop  with Loki. He knew, just as I
do, that Thrakhath and his Emperor willna stop fighting  as long as they see
a  hope  of winning.  And a balance of  power,  their bioweapons against our
Behemoth, would  have meant the advantage of numbers and  strategic position
was still with the Empire."
     "It sounds to me like there was never  any choice at  all,"  Blair said
quietly.
     "Laddie,  there wasn't." Paladin looked  grim. "Fact  is, even  if Auld
Geoff had decided tae hold off, I was  ready to launch a Temblor Bomb attack
on Kilrah on my ain authority."
     "What?" Eisen looked shocked. "You'd have been court-martialed six ways
from Sunday!"
     "Aye, true enough," Paladin  said. "But my career doesna mean much  set
against  the end of this  damned war. Our hope was that the cats would  hear
about Behemoth's attack on Loki and assemble the bulk of their reserve fleet
tae intercept it. I persuaded Captain Chalfonte tae take Eagle into Imperial
territory tae launch the Temblor Bomb strike on Kilrah while the  cats  were
chasing Behemoth. But they were a step ahead of us,  it seems. Thrakhath had
a strike force ready at Loki, and never touched the reserves. Eagle ran into
trouble before we got anywhere near Kilrah. We had tae break off and retreat
with heavy damage."
     "So it's over, then," Blair said bitterly.
     "Not  yet, it isn't,"  Taggart  said. "That's why I'm  here.  Now  that
Behemoth has failed, Sector HQ has authorized the Temblor strike. This time,
when we  go  in, we'll be  supported  by a fleet. If  we can  penetrate  the
defenses  that turned  Eagle  back, and  get a few fighters through, we  can
still drop the bomb and destroy the planet."
     "That doesn't sound like a long  shot,"  Blair said. "It sounds like no
shot at all. A fleet couldn't penetrate all the way to  Kilrah, and anything
less  than a fleet  would be  carved  up before  you could say here,  kitty,
kitty!
     "Dinna be sae sure, laddie," Paladin said with a wolfish  grin. "Covert
Ops didna gae into this thing blind. Fact  is, a squadron of fighters can do
what a fleet cannot hope to . . . thanks to Jeannette Devereaux."
     "Angel? Where does she come into all this?" Blair was still frowning.
     "Her  last mission was to  Kilrah, laddie,  aboard a  captured Kilrathi
freighter we  rigged up with  a  nice little cargo of goodies."  Despite his
almost bantering tone, his eyes were dead serious.  "You see, we kenned just
fine  that we  couldna  bull  our  way through  to Kilrah.  So instead we've
arranged for a  . . .  more stealthy approach." He manipulated his keyboard,
and  a  new schematic appeared. Blair  recognized  it. He  had  seen  Rachel
pouring over these same plans once.
     "An Excalibur?" he said, raising his eyebrows.
     "Aye. Eagle carries a squadron of them, the first operational squadron.
They have  a limited jump capability,  and a cloaking  device  — which means
they can penetrate the Kilrah System  in secret, carry out the  mission, and
hopefully get clear again when it's over." Taggart raised  his  hand to ward
off the protests that sprang to  Blair lips. "Hear me out, laddie. You'll be
wanting to say yon fighter doesna have the range tae make a jump and proceed
all the way  in to  Kilrah. That's true  enough.  But Angels mission was  to
survey  a jump point that we didna previously  know about, and tae make some
stops along the  way in to Kilrah." A map appeared  over the  table, showing
the Kilrah System. "Here . . . here . . . and again, here. Asteroids  .  . .
the last of them Kilrah's outer moon, which barely merits the label. And  on
each one,  a  hidden  supply  cache hollowed out by Angel and  her crew. Big
enough  to take in a squadron of  ships, but well camouflaged. Each equipped
with  fuel, missile  reloads,  the  works.  And this one  —  " He  indicated
Kilrah's tiny  second moon. "In this cache, a pair of Temblor Bombs, all set
and ready to load."
     "You  mean they're  already  out there?"  Blair demanded.  "But Angel's
people were caught. Interrogated. The Kilrathi could  have found them all by
now. . . ."
     Taggart  shook his head. "Nae, laddie.  These were Covert  Ops  people,
dinna forget. Conditioned  not tae  remember  anything  of the mission, once
they were caught.  Not  even Thrakhath's torturers  could hae pried anything
out of them."
     "So  the  caches  are still  there,"  Blair said  slowly. "Just  . .  .
waiting."
     "Aye. Waiting," Paladin said. "Angel did her job well. Those bombs  are
aye big, laddie, so big ye couldna carry any other missiles once you mounted
one. Planting them here was the best  solution. You go into the system fully
armed, so you can deal with any patrols you run into along the way. But when
you make  the bomb run,  it'll be from close  range. There's less chance  of
disaster this way. Even  if you lose ships going in, the  ones that are left
can still pick up the bombs and carry out the mission."
     "If   they're   hidden,   how  do   we  locate   them?"   Blair  asked.
"Transponders?"
     Paladin nodded.  "Aye. They'll respond on a very  high band,  and  only
when you fire a query at them. Believe me,  laddie, we've done everything we
can tae make this work."
     "You're sure  Colonel  Devereaux got all the way and set  up all  three
depots?" Eisen asked.
     "She  did,"  Paladin said quietly. "She  managed tae  send out  a coded
signal, before the cats took her ship. A scout ship posted in the Oort Cloud
monitored  it  and brought word tae  us." He  paused. " ‘Twas  frae them  we
learned of the capture. . . and the execution, as well. Then the cats put it
out on their propaganda broadcasts. . . ."
     "And you really think this plan can work?" Blair said quietly, changing
the subject. He didn  t  want to  think about  Angel's death, not now. "Aye,
laddie, it will work. Because it has to."

     Officer's Quarters, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     "Because it has to." The image on the screen was  too small to pick  up
details,  but  the voices had  been clear enough. It had  been  a good idea,
placing cameras where they might pick up important meetings.
     The spy  shut off the monitor as the briefing dispersed. It seemed that
the threat to  Kilrah  was  not  over  yet,  even  with the  destruction  of
Behemoth. Thrakhath's instructions  didn't cover this eventuality, and there
would be no ships lurking nearby to pick up another broadcast.
     If the spy was to alert the Prince  of this new danger it would require
careful preparation indeed. But it had to be done. . . .
     For the glory of Kilrah!


        CHAPTER XXVII

     Flight Control, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     "That's  the last  of  ‘em,  Colonel. Eight  Excaliburs,  all ready for
action."
     Blair stared at the flight deck through the transparent  wall of Flight
Control,  studying the lines of the  last of  the new fighters as it  rolled
slowly to a halt inside the hangar area. On Paladin's orders, the Excaliburs
came from Eagle in exchange for Gold Squadron's Thunderbolts. They certainly
looked impressive  enough.  Blair hoped a few days of patrols would give the
pilots  a  chance  to  get used to  them before  they went  into  action  in
Paladin's crazy scheme to attack Kilrah. "I hope they're all they're cracked
up to be," he said quietly.
     "Believe me, skipper, they're  the  hottest birds that ever hauled jets
off a carrier deck,"  Rachel  Coriolis said. She wore an expression of sheer
joy  as she contemplated  the new  craft. "These beauties  are a  mechanic's
dream. At long last, I get to really show what I can do."
     "Oh, I don't know, Chief," Blair said,  glancing at her enraptured face
and giving her a smile. "I've been pretty impressed right from the start."
     "Yeah, but  you haven't seen everything, not by a long shot," she said,
flashing an answering grin. She moved a little closer to him and lowered her
voice.  "It might  not  be proper protocol to  make the  first move with  an
officer and all . .  . but how ‘bout we get together later  on and I'll show
you  the rest?  Sooner  or  later,  you and me, we've got  to  let go of the
ghosts. Figure out if the parts'll fit somewhere else . . . if you know what
I mean?"
     Blair hesitated, looking into her dark eyes. He couldn't now deny being
attracted  to Rachel, her quiet strength  and  her  irreverent humor. Always
before it seemed too much like a betrayal of Angel. . . .
     But  Angel was gone, and she would have been the first one to want  him
to pick up the pieces of his life and move on. Rachel had already helped him
over the first,  most difficult adjustment. It seemed  right, somehow,  that
they  travel  further down the  road she helped him find that led out of the
darkness.
     "You  think our  parts  might  mesh,  Chief?" he asked her,  his  smile
broadening.
     "You never know until you take a test run," she said. "Tonight, maybe?"
     "Tonight," he agreed quietly.
     He was almost surprised at the intensity of the emotion behind that one
simple word.

     Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     "Got a minute, Colonel? Before I have to go on watch?"
     Blair looked up at  Lieutenant Rollins and gave him  a curt nod. "Sure.
Pull up a chair." He hesitated,  studying the young communications officer's
worried expression. "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"
     Rollins  sat down, looking uncomfortable. "I think I've  finally turned
up  something  solid, Colonel. In  that .  .  .  matter Cobra and I've  been
looking into."
     "And that is?"
     "I  figured out where  I'd  seen that harmonic pattern before," Rollins
told him.  "It's been used a  time  or two in psychiatric work.  Personality
overlays . . ." Rollins hesitated.  "Sometimes, with a subject,  you want to
be able to switch  from  a substitute personality to  the original,  or back
again.  They use it in therapy, overlaying a well-adjusted behavior  pattern
over a personality that's got problems, but the  doctors want to  be able to
retrieve the original identity, locate the root of the problem."
     "Yeah, I've heard about it. You think it applies here?"
     "If I'm right, the Kilrathi might have used that message from Thrakhath
as a carrier for a personality trigger. When it  was played, it brought up a
different personality in a Kilrathi agent on board."  Rollins hesitated. "If
Cobra's right, it would have brought back an original personality in Hobbes,
something overlaid by the one we've known all along. Or . . ."
     "Or what?" Blair demanded.
     "I .  .  . was thinking about what you said. About Cobra.  She admitted
there was something familiar about the signal,  but she didn't say what. But
it  set  me  to thinking. What  if the  signal  was  supposed to bring up an
implanted personality in her .  . . something programmed by the  Kilrathi to
make her work as a spy. Hell, she might not even be aware of it any more, if
the work was sophisticated enough."
     Blair looked down at his drink. "Once again, there's no real proof," he
said  slowly. "We can hatch theories  until the sun goes  nova,  but without
real evidence . . .
     "I know, sir,"  Rollins said, biting his lower lip and looking worried.
"But  .  . . hell, I  don't know  what to think any more  or who to trust. I
think I've identified  another part of Thrakhath's transmission that carries
a low-frequency side message,  but it seems like it's a  pretty old code. It
was  discontinued  a while back, and is no longer in our current  files. I'm
still trying to reconstruct it. Maybe we'll know more  then.  But  meantime,
what do I do? Tell Cobra? If she's the spy . . .
     "Keep it to yourself, Lieutenant," Blair said. His wrist implant chimed
a  reminder. "Damn.  I've got a meeting with Paladin and  the  Captain."  He
stood up. "You  keep  working on  that  signal,  Lieutenant.  Crack  it fast
because  we have  to find out if  there really is a  leak  — before we start
General Taggart's new mission.

     Flight Deck, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     Lieutenant Laurel Buckley studied the sleek lines of the Excalibur  and
gave  a  low  whistle of  appreciation.  "Man,  oh  man, that  is a thing of
beauty,"  she said softly. Cobra was looking forward to trying the new craft
out, even if it was only a routine patrol.
     "I'll  say," Chief  Coriolis  said,  looking  up  from  where  she  was
kneeling, checking the locking mechanism on  the forward landing  gear "This
is one nice piece of machinery."
     "Where's Ski, Chief?" Cobra asked. Technician First Class Glazowski was
her usual plane captain, but he was nowhere in sight.
     "Had to put all the Gold Squadron plane captains through a crash course
on  how to care and feed these beauties," Rachel told her. "I'm the only one
who's up on the specs at the  moment. Don't worry, he'll be done by the time
your patrol gets back." She looked around. "Who's going out with you?"
     "Vaquero," Cobra said. "Except he's late, as usual."  She moved over to
the cockpit ladder. "I swear he'll be late to his own cantina opening."
     "I'll  have Flight Control  put out  a call for him," Rachel said. "You
need any help strapping on this baby?"
     "Nah. Looks like you're overworked as it is."
     "I'll say.  I'm  supposed to have five techs on every  bird. Today I've
only  got  three  to  get both you  guys  up and  flying." The  tech  looked
disgusted. "My watch roster looks thinner every day, seems like."
     "Well, I can  run through my checklist  just fine by myself. Just don't
forget  to send somebody out here to give me my  clearance when it's time to
launch!"
     Rachel chuckled and  turned away. Buckley paused at the bottom  of  the
ladder and cocked  her head to one side. Something . .  . someone was moving
around on the other side of the Excalibur.
     She set her helmet and gauntlets  down on the wing and ducked under the
fuselage  to investigate. From what  Rachel  just said there shouldn't  have
been any technicians working in that corner of the bay. . . .
     Something struck her  in the stomach as  she straightened, knocking her
backward against the hull of the fighter with such force that she banged her
head. As she shook  it, trying to clear her blurring  vision and the ringing
in her ears, she became  aware  of  the  pain in  her  abdomen. Her fingers,
clutching at the spot, came away sticky with blood
     And then her vision did  clear, for  a moment, as she  slumped  to  the
deck. The bulky figure standing over her might have stepped out of her worst
nightmare.
     "Hobbes . . ." she gasped. Then blackness took her.

     Flight Control, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     Rachel Coriolis entered the Flight Control Center and dropped into  the
nearest  vacant  seat.  "God, I'll be glad to get some sack time," she said.
She suppressed a grin as she remembered the plans she'd made with Blair. She
doubted  either one of them would get  much sack time tonight.  "They're all
yours, Captain. And good riddance."
     Lieutenant  Ion Radescu, the duty  Flight Controller, gave  her a grin.
"Come  on, Rachel, you know you  love  it. What  would your life  be without
fighters to work over, huh?'
     "A hell of a lot cleaner," she said, returning his smile. Since Admiral
Tolwyn's departure, she'd gone right back to her old habits of dress.
     Radescu chuckled and  turned to  his console.  "Okay, boys  and  girls,
let's  get  this show started." He thumbed a  mike switch. "Prowler  Flight,
this is Control. Radio check."
     "Prowler Two," Vaquero said. "Read you five by five."
     There  was  a  moment of silence  before  Cobra's  voice  came  on  the
speakers. "Clear signal."
     The FCO frowned.  "Prowler  One, I'm not getting anything on video from
you. You got a fault showing?"
     Again there was a pause. "Negative."
     "Damned thing ought to be working, Rachel said, joining  Radescu at the
console. Those birds are so new you can still smell the fresh paint."
     "Want to have a look?" Radescu asked.
     "It  ain't  enough  to get  a  down-gripe," Rachel told him.  "Long  as
audio's working, I don't see a problem." She  paused. "I'll take a look when
they get back in."
     "Okay, Chief," the FCO nodded. "Prowler Flight cleared to launch."
     Out on the flight deck below them, the fighters rolled into position in
their  launch tubes. Green lights flashed  on Radescu's board. "Launch  when
ready," he ordered.
     And the two Excaliburs hurtled into space.
     Rachel  turned away. "I'm gonna grab me a cup of something hot and then
check on my students in Ready Room Three," she said over her shoulder. "Yell
if you need me —
     The intercom shrilled. "Flight Control, Bay Twelve," a hoarse voice was
loud over the speaker. "I just found Cobra down here. She's hurt . . .  real
bad!"
     "Cobra?" Rachel and Radescu spoke at the same moment.
     "What the hell . . . ?" the FCO added. "Rachel, get down there and find
out what's  going  on."  He was  already punching  in a  combination  on the
intercom "Bridge, this is Flight Control. We have a problem . . ."

     Captain's Ready Room, TCS Victory Blackmane System

     "Our job,  then, is  tae remain clear of the fighting unless absolutely
necessary.  Let  the rest  of the fleet thoroughly engage the bloody moggies
and  then  slip  around to the  back  door,  the jump point to Kilrah. Then,
laddie, your squadron will launch."
     Blair nodded as Paladin finished. "With luck, the Excaliburs will cloak
before the cats see us out  there, and we can reach  the  jump point without
ever being noticed. Very pretty planning, General."
     Taggart  grinned.  "Another  fine  product of  the Covert Ops  planning
staff," he said. "Just remember, laddie, that the cloak's  nae good at close
range. It hides ye from sensors, but it doesna make you invisible."
     "I'm  still not very  happy about  sending the fighters through blind."
Eisen spoke up for the first time since  the briefing had  started. "They'll
have no support . . . and  if they  run into trouble before they refuel they
won't  be able  to  recharge  their jump generators and make  it  back  here
safely.  If this really is a  back door  into Kilrah,  wouldn't it be better
going in with them?"
     "We dinna ken how well defended the jump point might be," Paladin said.
"The  fighters will have  to  decloak to  jump,  of course,  and they'll  be
detected as they  enter the system. But if they cloak right away,  they  can
evade any reception  committees in the  neighborhood. Send a carrier in, and
we stir up a hornet's nest."
     "I appreciate the concern, Captain," Blair added, meeting Eisen's eyes.
"Fact  is, our chances of getting back aren't that good one way  or another.
I'm treating this as a one-way mission . . .  volunteers only. If we can get
back, great. But none of us will be under any illusions."
     "Laddie — " Paladin  began. He was cut off by the ululation of an alarm
siren.
     "Flight deck. Emergency."  The voice on the tannoy belonged to Rollins,
but it was almost unrecognizable, choked with emotion. "We have a problem on
the flight deck!"
     "Blair,  get  down  there,"  Eisen rasped, pushing back  his chair  and
getting to his feet. "I'll be on the bridge . . ."
     "On  my way," Blair  said.  He was  already  halfway to the  door,  but
Paladin, despite his age and bulk,  was right behind him. They raced to  the
elevator, all pretense of officer s dignity forgotten.
     Rachel met them at the door to the hangar deck. "Bay Twelve," she said,
grim-faced. The two  men didn't wait for an explanation. They  hurried  down
the  row of fighter  bays  to the empty  space that had housed the Excalibur
assigned to Lieutenant Buckley.
     Cobra was  lying near  the  back of  the bay, half  hidden by a rack of
testing equipment. There was blood on the  deck where  she'd been dragged to
the niche, and  a  larger  pool  of  blood around her. Someone  had tried to
staunch her  wounds with a makeshift bandage, but it wasn't  controlling the
flow of blood. Blair knelt beside her and lifted it to examine her injuries.
Four deep slashes cut across her stomach, and the sight of those wounds made
Blair, hardened veteran that he was, turn his head away.
     He had  seen that  kind of  disemboweling  cut  before after the ground
fighting on Muspelheim a decade ago. The cuts could only have been made by a
Kilrathi's claws.
     Blair tried to  ignore  the nausea welling  up inside him. Cobra's eyes
fluttered open. "Colonel . . ." she gasped.
     "Hobbes?" he asked, knowing the answer.
     "He . . . hit me. Don't know why . . ."
     "I do," Paladin said grimly. He held up a holo-cassette. "He must  have
dropped this when he dragged her over here."
     Taggart pressed  a button,  and a small holographic image formed in the
air above  Cobra. It took Blair a  moment to recognize  the scene. It  was a
view of Eisen's ready room, shot from a high  angle. The three figures there
belonged to Eisen, Paladin, and Blair.
     "This is the Temblor Bomb,"  Paladin's image said. "It was developed by
Doctor  Philip Severin,  one of the top research men in  the  Confederation.
It's  been  undergoing  tests for some time now .  .  .  nearly a decade, in
fact."
     Taggart switched it off. "The briefing . . ."
     "All this time," Blair  said slowly, shaking his head. "All this  time,
he's had us bugged. . . .
     Rachel returned, with a team of medics running after her. Paladin moved
away to give  them room to work, while Blair cradled her  head and shoulders
in his arms. "We'll get you to sick bay," he told her.
     "Too late  . . . for me," she gasped out. "Get Hobbes.  You still  have
time . . ."
     He could  almost feel the life ebbing out of her as the awareness faded
from her eyes.  One of the medics  shook his head. "It's no  good,  sir," he
said. "She's gone."
     Blair  lowered her head to the  deck gently  and stood up. "What  about
Hobbes?" he asked Rachel, voice flat and harsh. "Any idea where he is?"
     "He took  Cobra's  fighter,"  she  said. "Launched with  Vaquero a  few
minutes ago.  He  must have had a tape  of  her voice to  answer  the  radio
check."
     Flint appeared at the mouth of the bay, running. She pulled up short at
the  sight of Cobra,  then  fixed her eyes on Blair. "Prowler One just broke
off the patrol route,"  she said,  breathing hard. "Fired on Vaquero when he
tried to intercept." She paused.  "The fighter's heading for the Freya  jump
point, maximum speed Vaquero's pursuing.
     Blair looked at Paladin. "Even without that holo, Hobbes can  tell them
about the plan. About the caches . . ."
     Taggart nodded. "If he makes it through the jump point, it's all  over,
lad," he said.
     "Not yet, it  isn't,"  Blair said.  He looked at  Rachel. Which  of the
Excaliburs is prepped for Alert Five?"
     "Three-oh-four," she said "Maniac's bird."
     "Get it on the line now. And get me a flight suit." He turned to Flint.
"You get  to Flight Control. Order Vaquero to  keep up the chase.  Stop that
bastard at all costs, or at le