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

off without a hitch. The deployment plan called for the Strakhas to get off of the flight deck early, with cloaks up to hide the launch from prying eyes. It would make the operations cycle easier once the full Alpha Strike went forward later . . . and it guaranteed that the Strakhas would be in position for a very special mission before the Cats suspected anything was amiss.

One by one the rest of the squadron joined him, though his sensors continued to show surrounding space empty save for the carrier herself. When all eight of the cloaked fighters were assembled, Bondarevsky switched on his commlink once again. "Asgard, Asgard, this is Loki. Launch completed. Proceeding to designated target." In honor of the carrier's name—and perhaps in memory of Viking Jensson as well, the codenames for the various elements of the strike mission were drawn from Norse mythology. Asgard, the home of the gods, was the carrier, while the cloaked Strakhas operated under the name of the trickster god, Loki.

"Loki, Asgard, copy," came the reply from Lieutenant Vivaldi. "Make sure you sting the bastards a couple of times for me!"

The Strakhas, unseen, undetected, raced inward toward Baka Kar.

Combat Information Center, FRLS Mjollnir Entering Baka Kar Orbit, Baka Kar System 1208 hours (CST)

"My God, what a monster," someone breathed, and Geoff Tolwyn agreed. He had once thought Behemoth was a truly impressive piece of machinery, but the huge bulk of the Kilrathi dreadnought was something unimaginably larger and more terrible. The huge space station and repair dock alongside was larger, but not by much . . . and space stations didn't generally fly under their own power.

Or carry sufficient weapons to wipe out a fleet or lay waste a planet.

Still unchallenged, the carrier was on final approach. Dahl and Murragh were busy talking to the station controllers, requesting final approach clearance, ostensibly so they could dock with the station and arrange resupply and repairs for Karga. He had been concerned about allowing the Kilrathi to play too big a role in the operation, in case one of them harbored more loyalty to his race than to his Prince, but the encounter with the picket boat had proved he could count on Murragh and the others. Tolwyn could safely ignore that entire facet of the attack. It was in good hands. At any rate, most of the attention at the station was bound to be focused on the distant skirmishing around the jump point, where Xenophon, Durendal, and Caliburn were playing tag with the ever-increasing force of Kilrathi ships closing in on them from all parts of the system.

Richards was playing it canny out there, avoiding combat. The three Landreich ships could dodge away from almost anything their size or larger, altering vectors in plenty of time to avoid coming into range of a Cat ship's guns. It would take a carrier with fast-striking planes to bring them to battle, and so far the only carrier they'd detected in motion was still close to an hour from the scene of the fighting. A second carrier was reported near the station, but its power readings indicated that it had suffered some heavy damage—probably the one Kevin Tolwyn had reported as taken out of action by the pirates at Hellhole.

"We have clearance," Vivaldi announced. "Port side approach."

"Very good," Tolwyn said. "Just where we hoped. Mr. Clancy, I'll thank you to steer for the port side of the station. And make sure you take us in close across the bow of that beast."

"You want centimeters or millimeters, Admiral?" Clancy asked. "Or would you prefer microns?"

"Just bring us across her bow, and I'll be happy. Mr. Deniken, are you ready?"

"All guns standing by," the Tactics and Gunnery Officer confirmed. "Ready for your order."

"A little longer, if you please." He touched an intercom stud. "Mr. Graham? Status?"

"All systems nominal, sir," Graham reported. "Shields cycling at nine-six-fiver. The drives are looking good.

Damage control parties are ready." He paused. "Would this be a good time to wish I was still back on good old Nargrast, freezing my butt off with Murragh and the rest?"

"Luck of the draw, Mr. Graham," Tolwyn told him. "Flight Deck, prepare for launch operations on my signal. All stations, preparatory." Tolwyn waited a long moment, savoring the feeling of command. "Mr. Vivaldi, you may hoist our colors, if you please."

"Aye aye, sir." In the days of sailing ships on Earth, a warship trying for the kind of surprise Mjollnir sought today might sail into combat range flying the flag of another nation, a legitimate ruse de guerre. But before the first broadside, the false colors would be hauled down and the real national flag hoisted. Mjollnir was doing the same thing electronically. Her transponder had broadcast the Identification Friend or Foe signal for the Karga, but now Vivaldi switched that transponder signal off and brought up Mjollnir's new code, identifying her as a ship of the Landreich.

The waiting was over. The battle was beginning . . ."Now!" Tolwyn said. "Execute Ragnarok . . . Now!"

Strakha 800, VF-401 "Shadow Cats" Near Orbital Dock Asharazhal, Baka Kar System 1216 hours (CST)

"Ragnarok, Ragnarok, Ragnarok. I say again, Ragnarok!"

The Norse battle between the gods and the giants, a fitting code-word for the order to start the attack, thundered in Bondarevsky's ears. He activated his commlink. "That's the signal, Shadow Cats!" he said. "Attack designated targets at will."

His hand reached out to drop the cloak that screened his Strakha from detection. The heavy fighter slowly emerged from its hiding-place in a bent portion of space, hanging bare meters above the hull of the dreadnought. As the Strakha's targeting sensors registered a lock, Jason Bondarevsky opened fire at point-blank range.

They had adapted this portion of the battle plan from the attack Banfeld's pirates had launched against the carrier at Vaku. But they had two advantages the pirates had lacked. Their stealth technology allowed the Shadow Cats to place themselves in close to the