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

had close to three hours to go before they reached the jump point. A lot could happen in three hours.

The only other choice Bondarevsky could come up with was one last throw of the dice. Another concentrated attack on those closing cruisers with all the fighters remaining in the wing. It would mean more deaths among the Black Cats . . . but if it could save nearly five thousand aboard the carrier, then the trade-off would be only fair.

"All systems nominal," he said aloud. "Ready to detach. Thanks for the drink and the handout."

"All part of the service, friend," a familiar voice replied. Sparks sounded tired, but still game. "Don't go using all your new toys up at once, you hear?"

"What are you doing on that Kofar, Sparks?" he demanded.

"It was my turn on the rotation," she told him. "Yeah. Right. Aren't you the one who draws up the rotation schedule in the first place?"

She didn't reply right away. "I just figured you shouldn't be the only one who gets to go outside and see the universe, that's all. You got a problem with that, flyboy?"

"Just make sure you get back in before the fireworks start, Sparks. I wouldn't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

"Thanks," she said. "And . . . you be careful, too. Come home safe. Not like last time."

He flexed his bionic hand, thinking of Coventry. He'd been so caught up in the action today he'd barely noticed the wounded arm, or pictured that horrible day when Tolwyn's Behemoth project had come apart. If he survived today, would the memories of the pilots he lost here at Baka Kar haunt him? Or had he gotten past all that, taking up the Landreich's struggle?

"Separation in ten . . . five seconds . . . three, two, one . . ." He released the clamps that held his fighter to the Kofar and dropped away under minimal thrust. Below and ahead of him, the rest of the flight wing was forming up. "This is Loki One," he said. "All planes form on me. We're going hunting . . . one last time."

Flag Bridge, KIS Dubav Deep Space, Vordran System 1308 hours (CST)

"Decoys!" Ragark slashed the thick padding of his chair arm with outstretched claws, overcome by savage fury "All this time we have been chasing decoys! While anything could have been happening behind our backs, at Baka Kar!"

The flag bridge's crew quavered under his angry glare. For nearly four hours the Kilrathi task force had been tracking signals that seemed to emanate from the carrier they had come in search of. They might have searched for hours longer, if a lucky fighter patrol hadn't picked up the electronic warfare craft at close range and moved in for the kill. Thereafter a second signal source had been spotted, and this time, knowing what to look for, the computer analysts had identified the trace as coming from another Zartoth.

But Ragark had lost four hours chasing shadows, and time was the one thing he didn't have to make up.

"Set course for the jump point to Baka Kar," he ordered. "Best possible speed. Now!"

Combat Information Center, FRLS Mjollnir Deep Space, Baka Kar System 1345 hours

"Roll out! Roll out! I'll take him!"

'Where the hell are you, Doomsday? You gotta get this bastard off my tail!"

"Bombers, start your run. We'll hold these guys of as long as we can . . ."

Tolwyn listened to the oommlink chatter, wishing there was something more he could do, knowing the pilots of the Black Cats were out there risking their lives to defend the carrier. Bondarevsky had thrown his fighters into the attack three times now, but the cruisers kept coming. And now they'd acquired a fighter escort, more of the aerospace defense force scrambled from the planet's surface. One of the two cruisers had taken a serious hit to its maneuver drives, and was beginning to fall behind now. But the other had closed the range relentlessly. It had already started taking shots at Mjollnir, and the shields were weakening in several sections.

"You take the Darket, Lefty. I'm on this Dralthi."

"Scratch another one. Hey, Babe, this is better than simulator target practice. They just keep right on coming!"

"Shut up and watch your six, Lefty. I'm - shit! Shit! Where the hell did he—"

"God damn. They got Babe!"

Tolwyn closed his eyes. He remembered Babcock from the first days of Goliath. Competent, professional, a little edgy around the brass, maybe, but she should have had a promising career ahead of her. One day she might have commanded a carrier, even a battle group, herself.

Now she was gone.

"Cossack, make it look good," Bondarevsky's voice came over the commlink clearly. He sounded tense, but in control. "I want every one of those bombs to count. We're all down to our last loads, and these Cats are in too close to let us rearm on the fly again." "Understood," Commander Razin replied. "Pumas, follow me in!"

Tolwyn looked at the tactical screen. Bondarevsky was making a last big push on the remaining cruiser, using the bulk of his fighters to engage the Kilrathi fighter screen and sending in the Paktahn bombers unescorted. It was a damned risky move, but if it worked . . .

The cruiser opened fire on Mjollnir again. An alarm shrilled, and Kittani's hoarse voice rasped as he tried to shout a warning. "Hull breach! Hull breach! Aft superstructure! Get me damage control parties to decks three through seven to seal off those compartments! Mr. Graham, shields are down over the aft superstructure!"

"I'm on it! Give me ten minutes!"

"We don't have ten minutes, Mr. Graham," the Turk barked. "Make it five! And pray to Allah that won't be too long!"

Strakha 800, VF-401 "Shadow Cats" Deep Space, Baka Kar System 1349 hours (CST)

A laser cut through space scant meters away from Bondarevsky's fighter, far too close for comfort. The cruiser's attack was directed at the carrier