Wing Commander #07 False Color William Forstchen (top 10 books to read .txt) 📖

NOW IT'S YOUR TURN

on Juneau, Commander Douglas Scott Graham stared at the image on his monitor screen in horror and disbelief, hardly able to watch but equally unable to tear his eyes away.

He was watching a ship die, a sight all too common for a Terran Confederation Navy officer in this thirty-fifth year of continuous warfare with the Kilrathi Empire, but that didn't make it any easier to watch Dover coming apart under the incredible bombardment generated by the Kilrathi carrier the two Terran ships faced.

Kruger wanted revenge, he thought bitterly. I hope it's worth the price we're paying.

When the Kilrathi carrier battle group had launched a raid on planet Landreich, every ship in the region had been summoned to intercept them before they could return to Imperial space. The running pursuit had knocked out three of the five . but the carrier and her escort were still formidable foes when the two Terran cruisers had moved in to engage.

The proof of that was on his monitor. The Cat carrier was pumping everything she could fire into the unfortunate Dover.

"Christ, look at her," someone said behind Graham. "She's a goner for sure. . ."

"Back to your post, spacer," Graham snapped.

The monitor flashed as explosions ran along the spine of the crippled Dover. For an instant the flare of light was blinding before the computer cut in the compensators. One moment the ship was whole. The next she was shards of wreckage whirling away in all directions, ship and crew alike consumed by the fearsome energies unleashed by the concentrated Kilrathi attack.

Graham swallowed. Now it was Juneau's turn . .

THE

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False Colors

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FALSE COLORS

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 1999 by ORIGIN Systems, Inc.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

A Baen Books Original

Baen Publishing Enterprises P.O. Box 1403

Riverdale, NY 10471

ISBN: O671-57784-O Cover art by Gary Ruddell First printing, January 1999

Distributed by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020

Printed in the United States of America

PROLOGUE

"Better Death with claws extended than Life without honor."

from the Fourth Codex18:35:3

Flag Bridge, KIS Karga Near Vaku VII, Vaku System 1335 hours (CST), 2669.315

Admiral Largka Cakg dai Nokhtak gripped the arms of his command chair as the ship shuddered under the impact of multiple torpedo hits and the red lights flickered in protest. "Damage report," he ordered tautly, studying the Kilrathi Hyilghar in front of him with a stern eye. Young, proud, with a stiffly erect bearing and green eyes gleaming against his tawny fur, the staff officer was the very picture of a young Kilrathi warrior. He wore his beard and mane short in the most recent court fashion, and his fangs gleamed in the dim orange light of the flag bridge.

"Lord Admiral, neither the command bridge nor the secondary control center respond." The young officer's voice quavered a little, but he kept himself under rigid control. Largka allowed himself a moment's pride. It was his sister's son's first deepspace assignment, his first brush with the God of the Running Death, and Hyilghar Murragh Cakg dai Nokhtak was bearing up with courage and honor. "The launch bays have ceased operation to repair damage to the flight control computer, and the port side hangar deck is blocked by debris. With the previous damage to the starboard hangar deck, we cannot retrieve the fighters we have already deployed. Structural integrity in the stern section between bulkheads fifty and seventy-two is down by better than seventy percent. We have lost long-range sensors, interstellar drive, and the main tactical computer. Backup systems are functional but overloaded. Defensive weaponry is operable, but without the tactical computer must be directed manually. Offensive weapons are still functional, but with intermittent power failures . ."

Largka waved his nephew to silence. "That is sufficient," he said quietly. "Neither the Captain nor the Exec is available?"

Murragh extended a clawed hand palm-up, the empty hand of negation. "Neither bridge is in contact with the rest of the ship," he said. "I fear both took direct hits. Nhagrah ko Lannis is the senior officer, but he is Chief Engineer, not fit for a combat command . ."

The Admiral made the grasping gesture of understanding. "What of the apes?" The ship shuddered again as if to emphasize his question.

"Both cruisers are concentrating on us now that the Frawqirg is out of the action, Lord Admiral," Murragh said. "At last report one of them was showing definite power drops and was trailing atmosphere at a rate that indicated imminent structural failure. That was before the sensors went off-line. The other cruiser is also damaged, but to a lesser extent."

"And your assessment of our options, young Hyilghar? he asked quietly, maintaining a rigid calm to counter the grim situation. "An exercise for a young officer."

Murragh didn't answer right away. Finally he spoke "We cannot run. Our chances of defeating both ape ships are small, given the extent of the damage. The fighters we have deployed already are running low or fuel and ammunition, and they cannot resupply while the hangar bays are down." His eyes met his uncle's "What other option is there save to die with honor?"

Largka showed his teeth. "What option, indeed?' Inwardly his heart