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

Captain," he said. "I think Ragark won't be sticking around long enough for a battle."

Flag Bridge, KIS Dubav Deep Space, Baka Kar System 1534 hours (CST)

"Vraxar! Ragark cursed. The apes had outmaneuvered him. His revenge would have to be postponed.

The position had been perfect for interdicting the escape of the two surviving Landreich ships, and after hearing reports from Dawx Jhorrad and the commander of the orbital station Ragark had been more determined than ever to obtain vengeance from the hairless freaks who had attacked his stronghold. Vorghath was crippled, unable to maintain shields, his whole front end twisted and gaping wide like the toothless mouth of a worthless old kil. And the station . . . the launch bays would be out of service for many eight-days, and half the repair facilities were destroyed or badly damaged. In one raid the humans had set back his program by a year or more.

But now he wouldn't even have the satisfaction of vengeance. Not with the human fleet between him and Baka Kar. If he remained here to maintain the trap, they could attack the capital with impunity, and if one shipload had done as much damage as that captured supercarrier had managed, what could an entire task force do? Dividing his forces to try to maintain the blockade of the jump point while also attempting to save Baka Kar would only expose his fleet to the possibility of defeat in detail.

Or he could pursue the new arrivals, giving up the blockade entirely. And the humans would escape. Once the Kilrathi were committed to the pursuit, it would be easy enough for the apes to win back and jump to Vordran once more.

Anger burned in his stomach, pure, raw hatred. It redoubled as the Communications Officer announced, "The human leader wishes to discuss the tactical situation, Lord Admiral."

The ape knew the dilemma Ragark faced. There was no point in pursuing the charade any longer.

But Ukar dai Ragark would not forget this day

EPILOGUE

"Rejoice in the victory of today, but prepare for the conflict of tomorrow, for life is an eternal struggle."

from the Third Codex03:18:10

Starboard Flight Deck, KIS Mjollnir Orbiting Landreich, Landreich System 1725 hours (TST), 2671 056

The Presidential shuttle San Jacinto lay on the flight deck, side door open and ramp deployed, ready to leave the ship. Bondarevsky watched Kruger standing at the top, and recalled a similar scene the day he had come to Independence to see them off at the very start of the Goliath Project. But there were many differences, too. Mjollnir's flight deck betrayed its alien origins in the shapes, the structures, the shadows formed by a design and construction no human hand had been involved with, and all the refitting and adaptation in the galaxy would never change that basic nonhuman flavor. The strange shapes of two Strakhas and a Paktahn bomber loomed behind the shuttle, more reminders of Mjollnir's unique origin

And there was the battle damage. Mjollnir had limped home from Baka Kar almost as battered as she had been when they first found her at Vaku. Shield failures had been regular all the way home, and Donald Graham had pronounced the jump drives dead on arrival after the final transition through the hyperrealm from Hellhole to Landreich. The port side flight deck was shut down after the explosion of one of the Vaktoths during recovery operations. Four decks of the superstructure were open to space thanks to laser hits during the battle with the Vorghath, and as many as five hundred crewmen had died.

Baka Kar had been a victory, but a costly one, and they had all the refit work to do over again before Mjollnir could space again. There were some battle scars here in the starboard flight deck, too, to remind Kruger and the assembled officers and crew of what the carrier had given, and what she might be called upon to give again.

Even the vast expanse of the flight deck couldn't hold all of the carrier's crew, but every department was represented by blocks of officers and enlisted men, drawn up neatly in ranks to greet the Presidential shuttle. They were cheering wildly, greeting the man who had saved them when everything had seemed the darkest. And Kruger accepted their accolades, standing, smiling, basking in the glory his last great charge into battle had earned him.

Bondarevsky stood in front of a group of pilots, sadly thinned out after the day of battle at Baka Kar. But Doomsday was there, and Aengus Harper. Alexandra Travis, too, back on duty after being discharged from Sick Bay with her wounds mostly healed.

Others were there in spirit, though no longer in body—Darlene Babcock, Charles Robertson, Drifter Conway, even Viking Jensson, along with far too many others. Bondarevsky had ordered plaques with the names of each squadron's dead posted in their respective ready rooms, to keep alive the memories of the heroes who had served Mjollnir well.

He glanced around the flight deck, taking note of the others who were waiting to hear Kruger speak. Donald Scott Graham, with Prince Murragh beside him, living proof that man and kil could work together for the common good. Bhaktadil with his marines, his turban and his oversized kukri knife strange against the blue and gray of his full-dress uniform. Deniken, promoted to full Commander for his expertise in handling the carrier's gunnery in the fight with the dreadnought, stood between the irrepressible Lieutenant Clancy and the darkly handsome Communications Officer, Vivaldi, with Kittani close by looking more like an assassin than an Executive Officer. And so many others, who had started out as strangers but become shipmates united by shared danger and the brotherhood of a successful fight against seemingly hopeless odds.

And before them all, Admiral Geoff Tolwyn. The man looked ten years younger than he had when they had met at Moonbase Tycho. Somewhere in the midst of that desperate fight