False Colors

CHAPTER 17

Shuttle Mjollnir Echo

Orbiting Nargrast, Vaku System

1622 hours (CST), 2671.033

The Kilrathi-made shuttle hung in space, dwarfed alongside the bulk of the carrier now called Mjollnir. From the cockpit, Lieutenant Aengus Harper and his Wing Commander, Captain Bondarevsky, studied the repairs to the outside of the port side flight deck, recording everything on video and computer-imaged still pictures. It was painstaking work, but an essential part of the refit, making sure there were no obvious weak spots in the refurbished hull. So Bondarevsky had assured Harper several times now, though Harper suspected his commanding officer was growing as weary of this “essential duty” as be was. Still, as the wing commander had pointed out earlier, it was better to invest the time and effort now that to discover they’d overlooked something crucial when an unlucky hit opened up the hull in the middle of a battle.

Harper quite frankly couldn’t see any spot that didn’t look weak. The hurry-up repair job on the port side flight deck had definitely stressed speed over all else, and the haste showed in rough patches and crude welding jobs. He hoped the computer’s structural analysis would belie the look of the work, and yield results within acceptable limits.

“Section one-twenty-five,” Bondarevsky said, sounding tired. He pressed a button on the co-pilot’s console. “Recorded. That’s the last of them, Lieutenant.”

“Thank God and all the Saints for that, sir,” Harper said with a grin. “Shall I be taking her back to the barn, then?”

‘Take the scenic route,“ Bondarevsky said. ”I want to get a better look at the old girl…a wider view, something with fewer rivets and weld marks.“

“Aye, sir, that would be a big improvement.” His hands danced over the shuttle controls. “Do you think the work will pass the inspection?”

Bondarevsky let out a sigh. “God, I hope so.” He paused. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it will. At least it’ll do for routine ops for a while, until we have time to do a better job on her. Richards told me this morning that it’s likely we’ll still be overhauling her six months from now…unless Ragark tries something sooner.”

“Six more months of this, sir?” Harper made a face. “I think I’d rather have Ragark charging across the border with guns blazing.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bondarevsky told him. “Fact is, we need all the refit time we can get. I never thought we’d get this far, Aengus, but we still have a long way to go before this old lady can stand toe-to-toe with hostiles in a real fight.”

As the shuttle lifted slowly away from the carriers battle-scarred hull, Harper remained silent, mulling over the wing commanders words. After a truly Herculean effort by the entire crew, Mjollnir was more or less operational. She had powered up her maneuvering drives a few days earlier and lifted clear of her long elliptical orbit around the brown dwarf, exchanging it for a high planetary orbit over Nargrast. The rest of the battle group occupied various similar orbits, spread out now to cover possible approach vectors and give the carrier warning in case of further unfriendly visits to the system. Both flight decks and all of the remaining planes were available now, and Bondarevsky had been holding daily training exercises in simulators and out in space to familiarize the pilots assigned to the Kilrathi squadrons with their planes, and to get the entire Black Cats wing used to working together.

That had meant more than just exercising the fighter squadrons, too. The support craft-electronic warfare birds, resupply boats, command and control planes-had all been put through their paces. In some respects the Kilrathi had a superior system to the Confederation and Landreich navies, using such auxiliary craft very effectively in conjunction with fighters and bombers. Bondarevsky had decided early on to adapt the same techniques to the ex-Kilrathi carrier’s operations, to bridge a gap in technologies that reflected the difference in doctrine. The supercarrier itself had fewer onboard systems adapted to the roles filled by those special planes, and Bondarevsky had quickly decided it was easier to get used to operating like Kilrathi pilots rather than attempting to upgrade the onboard support systems to carry out these same tasks. So fighters and bombers were often re-armed and refueled on the fly instead of coming back aboard for servicing, and lightly armed recon planes performed the scouting duties of a human light fighter squadron. The Primary Flight Control center aboard the carrier extended its reach by handing off coordination duties to the Command/Control birds.

It all took a lot of getting used to, and Harper had heard plenty of grumbling and cursing from the rest of the wing. But slowly they were getting accustomed to Bondarevsky’s demands, and starting to show pride in their roles.

Harper wondered about the Admiral’s estimate of needing another six months to finish the refit. Graham was still working on the jump generators, the last major ship’s system that hadn’t been tested under field conditions. But there were fewer problems there than the engineering crew had first feared, and the work was going quickly. After the jump drive was pronounced ready, Mjollnir would probably be as ready as she ever would be. There would be plenty of minor things to take care of, to make the ship more efficient and more comfortable, but already she had engines, sensors, guns, and a working flight deck. That, to Harper’s way of thinking, qualified her as a fighting ship.

They had pulled far enough away by now to be able to view the entire carrier. From this distance the individual damage didn’t show much, except for the scar on her superstructure where the original Maneuvering Bridge had been patched without being restored. The unearthly lines of the Kilrathi-built supercarrier never failed to make Harper just the least bit uneasy. There was something about a Kilrathi ship that summoned up an instinctive desire to fight or flee. Even the giant supercarrier was all knife-blades and sharp angles, a deadly sword to be wielded in battle.

“Very nice, Mr. Harper,” Bondarevsky commented. “From out here you can almost picture her as a warship, and not a collection of repairs waiting to fall apart.”

Harper frowned. Of late Bondarevsky had been sounding more pessimistic about the whole refit project. He worked hard, driving himself even more unrelentingly than he drove his subordinates, but he had been badly shaken by the encounter with the pirates. Sometimes it seemed as if he blamed himself for the loss of Sindri, and was frustrated by the continual problems that cropped up to remind them all of how big a job the refit process really was.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” Harper said quietly. “I know ’tis not my place to say so, but I think you should lay off the cracks about the ship.”

Bondarevsky looked at him with a puzzled frown. “What’s that supposed to mean, Lieutenant?” he asked.

“A lot of the crew has started to take some real pride in Mjollnir, sir. She may look like hell and be held together by spit and good intentions, but she’s ours. Like the Landreich itself. We’re no Terran Confederation out here on the frontier. We can’t afford the best ships or the best crews, so we make do with what we have. And we’re proud when we can achieve something good by the sweat of our brows and the skill of our hands. ’Tis bad for morale to hear Mjollnir being put down as second rate, sir.”

Bondarevsky shook his head, then smiled suddenly. “Sometimes, Mr. Harper, you really do make me think,” he said. “Okay, you win. From here on out she’s the best ship in the fleet, bar none.” He paused. “But I hope you won’t mind if I try not to sneeze too hard. I’m still afraid of what might happen.”

Harper grinned. “Aye, the Cats could take us out of action for good with one strong dose of the flu.”

“Take us home, Lieutenant,” Bondarevsky ordered. “Before you have me convinced that old lady is actually as good as you seem to think she is.”

The return to the port side flight deck took longer than they had planned, thanks to an unexpected new arrival. A courier shuttle, light, fast, and fitted with jump drives, had arrived while they were conducting their survey, and was on final approach when Harper contacted Boss Marchand for landing clearance. They held clear of the flight deck until Marchand came on the line to let them know it was safe.

The shuttle settled onto the deck just aft of the courier. As Harper and Bondarevsky exited, the hatch on the top of the courier opened up and a suited figure clambered down the ladder on the port side. When he undogged his helmet and lifted it clear of his head, Harper saw the new arrival was Kevin Tolwyn.

Bondarevsky advanced, hand extended. “Kevin! What are you doing here? And why the flying coffin?” Courier shuttles were notoriously cramped and uncomfortable, with just enough room for a pilot-and a passenger if they were very friendly-with a cockpit and a tiny cabin mounted in front of nothing but fuel tanks and engines.

Taking the proffered hand, Tolwyn shrugged. “Old Max sent me. I’m his new fair-haired boy these days, and he wanted me to bring you guys the latest news.”

Bondarevsky stepped back. “Captain’s bars, is it? You’re not bucking for my job again, are you?”

“Not me,” Tolwyn told him. “We had a little dust-up with some Cats a few days back, and Max thought I had earned a promotion. He even gave me a case of beer after we got back to Landreich!” The younger man paused. “Look, Jason, I’ve got dispatches and orders for Admiral Richards. We’ve got troubles, and I’m afraid Karga is in for a rough time.”

“She’s Mjollnir, now,” Bondarevsky said absently. “What kind of troubles, and how rough a time?”

Tolwyn dropped his voice, but Harper could still hear. “The Cats have a dreadnought,” he said. “Under repair at Baka Kar. And our intell says they’re getting ready to sortie against Ilios with a carrier task force.”

“A dreadnought?” Bondarevsky’s face went pale. “If that thing comes calling, we might as well just start the evacuation now…”

“There’s more,” Tolwyn said. “A lot more. But the big thing is your orders. Kruger wants you guys to take the carrier in and try to kill the dreadnought. And soon.”

Bondarevsky’s bionic hand clenched into a fist, then went into the worst set of spasms Harper had seen in weeks. “God damn it!” he said sharply. After a long moment he regained control of the appendage, but his scowl was black. He lowered his voice. “Is he crazy? This heap of junk is supposed to take on a dreadnought?”

Tolwyn nodded. “I’m afraid so. I have the orders here. Too sensitive to hypercast.” He looked Bondarevsky in the eye. “I have to report to Admiral Richards. But I think you’d better come too…and my uncle. You’ll all need to hear this.”

Bondarevsky looked back over his shoulder at Harper. “Finish the post-flight, Lieutenant,” he said. It was almost a growl. “I’ll be with the Admiral.”

He and Tolwyn walked off before Harper had a chance to respond. The lieutenant watched them, trying not to betray his whirling emotions. A little while ago he’d been hoping for action. Now, it seemed, they would get it. But from the sound of it, Mjollnir’s first real combat op was likely to be her last as well.

Flag Officer’s Ready Room, FRLS Mjollnir

Orbiting Nargrast, Vaku System

1715 hours (CST)

The holo-image showed a man in a sick bay bed, breathing with considerable difficulty and speaking in a ragged, throaty voice. Zachary Banfeld didn’t look much like a ruthless pilot, Bondarevsky thought. More like the frightened survivor of a disaster.

Apparently that’s just what he was.

“Will you repeat that last statement, please?” The voice off-camera belonged to Max Kruger. “How big was this ship?”

“Best estimate was twenty-two kilometers long,” Banfeld said. “Mass was right off the scale. It was huge, Kruger! Huge! And it must have had thirty heavy energy batteries. Turrets everywhere!”

“A dreadnought.” It was strange to have Kevin Tolwyn’s voice interjecting the comment on the recording, while he sat beside Bondarevsky and stared down at the table in silence.

“That’s enough,” Admiral Richards said, shutting off the recording and bringing the lights back up. He looked around the ready room. Aside from Bondarevsky and Kevin, Admiral Tolwyn was the only other one present. Richards had even dismissed Lieutenant Cartwright, his flag lieutenant. “It must be the Vorghath. We kept hearing rumors of a dreadnought that had escaped from the destruction of Kilrah, but nobody could track down anything solid. Her captain refused to acknowledge Melek as Thrakhath’s successor, apparently, and he set off in search of someone he could sign on with.”

“Ragark,” Admiral Tolwyn said.

“Ragark,” Richards echoed. “With that thing in his arsenal, there’ll be no stopping him. Not in the Landreich, and not in the Confederation. I suppose if we assembled most of ConFleet in one place we could fight Vorghath to a standstill, but the rest of Ragark’s fleet will be able to do pretty much as he damn well pleases in the meantime.”

“The President thinks the same,” Kevin said. “He says the only way to stop it is to hit it while it’s still at spacedock.”

“We don’t even know how long that will be,” his uncle said gloomily.

“Banfeld said that it looked pretty badly beat up. His estimate was for several weeks of repairs.” The younger Tolwyn looked away. “But there wasn’t any reliable data left in the scoutship’s computers to back up what he said. Hell, the whole story could be a fake. But I doubt it. He sounded sincere to me. And frightened. After all, if that monster sorties, it’s the end of the Guild as well as the Landreich.”

“Even if the estimate he made was accurate, it could still have enough firepower to swat the whole Landreich fleet,” Richards said. ‘There’s no way of telling what we’re up against, and damned little chance of getting any additional intelligence.“

“President Kruger went so far as to approach Clark Williams again,” Kevin said. “He went armed with our footage of the battle, and Banfeld’s recorded statement. He figured the ConFleet was about the only hope left to take the dreadnought out while it was still relatively defenseless.”

“And no doubt he got thrown out on his ear,” the elder Tolwyn growled. “It was stupid to waste the time.”

“That’s about the size of it,” his nephew agreed. “Williams accused us of faking the data and the statement both. Said Banfeld was a pirate and a renegade who just wanted to embroil the frontier in a major war, and that was that. ConFleet won’t help.”

“So instead he expects us to take a hand?” Richards sounded as incredulous as Bondarevsky had been…and almost as angry. “We’ve done wonders, but we’re not combat-ready. Even with the whole damned Landreich fleet backing us up, Ragark would have us for breakfast before we got anywhere near Baka Kar.”

Kevin Tolwyn flushed. “That’s the problem, Admiral. The Landreich fleet can’t attack Baka Kar. We’ve intercepted coded hypercast signals from Ragark’s fleet calling in additional units for a strike on Ilios. We can’t ignore it. If the fleet isn’t there to meet them, they could smash the colony and then go straight to Landreich. That would beat us just as surely as having the dreadnought sortie.”

Richards frowned. “If that signal was intercepted, it was because Ragark wanted us to hear it,” he said. “He’s too good to entrust that much detail to a code unless he knows for sure we can’t break it. In fact, odds are he’d’ve sent it by courier if he didn’t want us to pick it up.”

“That tells us he wants Kruger on the horns of this exact dilemma,” Admiral Tolwyn said thoughtfully. “Which implies that he’s worried about an attack before the dreadnought’s ready. Don’t you think so, Vance?”

Richards frowned. “I suppose so. He’ll know Kruger’s reputation. Old Max is just crazy enough to launch an all-out attack to try to cripple the dreadnought. Therefore, threaten a target Max can’t ignore. He doesn’t have the forces to do both…”

“And Vorghath escapes attack until her refit is finished,” the elder Tolwyn finished. “It’s elegant, you have to give the Cat bastard that much.”

“Karga…Mjollnir is the President’s ace in the hole,” Kevin said. “He figures the fleet can give a good account of itself at Ilios. Without you, or your battle group.”

“We’d never get past the jump point,” Richards said. “You can bet he’ll have more than just Vorghath guarding his capitol. So we’d have to slog our way through all their defenses…and by the time we did reach the orbital dock, if we reached it, we’d be badly damaged and they’d be fully on the alert. Same thing with a fighter sortie, for that matter, eh, Jason?”

“Yeah…” Bondarevsky trailed off as an idea struck him. “Admiral, there’s one way we might get in close enough to take them by surprise.”

“Not your Strakhas,” Richards said, holding up a hand. “I know Blair managed to get in close enough to launch the T-Bomb in a cloaked Excalibur fighter, but he lost pretty near his whole damned squadron getting there. And we don’t have a bomb big enough to do more that scratch the hull of a dreadnought.”

“No, sir,” Bondarevsky agreed with a nod of his head. “No, we can’t hit them with one squadron of fighters. But we could get Mjollnir close enough to do the trick…”

Admiral Tolwyn slapped the table with one hand. “By God, Jason, you’re right! We’re the one ship in human space that could pull it off!”

Richards looked from one to the other. “You want to impersonate a Kilrathi ship…?”

“Exactly,” the other admiral replied. “Look, we’re in a Cat carrier with heavy damage. They’re used to Cats coming in and joining up…Vorghath’s not the only new recruit to sign on with Ragark’s fleet, after all. So we sail past their pickets and ask ever so nicely for a berth at the spacedock to get some much-needed repairs.”

“Lord knows that’s believable enough,” Bondarevsky commented wryly. He was thinking of his conversation with Harper back in the shuttle. Their very weakness could sell their story to the Kilrathi.

“We could even use the rest of the battle group for verisimilitude,” Tolwyn went on, an excited light dawning in his eyes. “They play the part of human ships in hot pursuit. So there’s a fight near the jump point, all right, that draws other Cat patrols away from Baka Kar. That lets us get in nice and close without being engaged. Then…we strike. We may not have as many weapons as they do, but I dare say Mr. Deniken could cause some damage with his guns. And we sortie the whole flight wing, for cover, and to add to the attack.”.

“Our Kilrathi fighters will work to our advantage there, too,” Bondarevsky added. “Especially the Strakhas. The Black Cats will tie their defenses in knots.”

Richards raised a hand. “The enthusiasm is commendable, gentlemen,” he said. “But there’s plenty you haven’t covered. Such as how we pass ourselves off as Cats…”

“Computer simulacrums,” Tolwyn interjected. “With a claim of comm damage, they’ll be convincing enough.”

“And there’s the matter of codes and ciphers,” Richards went on as if his fellow admiral hadn’t spoken. “They’re no doubt buried in the material we extracted from the computer during the refit, but we’d have to do a lot of digging…and they still might not be enough.” He paused. “And the big one, people. Good as your plan sounds, it’s almost certainly a one-way mission. Mjollnir might get off a few good hits, might even damage the dreadnought and the spacedock thoroughly enough to remove the threat, but with the whole system stirred up against us I seriously doubt our ability to get out of there again.”

Admiral Tolwyn fixed him with a fiery eye. “Vance…this is the big one. What we put this ship back into operation for in the first place. Look-thanks to the conspirators back home Ragark’s had a free hand to move against the Landreich. No doubt they figured he’d win a handy victory, but then when ConFleet mobilized at last they could contain him. Go in with T-Bombs or whatever it took and neutralize his little empire. But they screwed up, Vance. None of them could have been expecting a dreadnought. Ragark will roll right over the Landreich and just keep on going, as far as he wants. Remember the Battle of Earth? All those cities going up in flames? If the Vorghath orbits and turns her guns on Earth, there won’t be anything left. Ragark will do what Thrakhath always wanted…blast Mankind back into the Stone Age on every planet we’ve settled, and keep a few survivors around for sport or slaves.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Jason’s scheme is the one chance we have of getting in there and neutralizing that monster before it gets loose and brings down everything. If it means we don’t come back…well, all of us have been there before.”

Richards looked at Bondarevsky. “I imagine you agree with him, Jason,” he said quietly.

“Yes, sir,” Bondarevsky replied. “I don’t see how we can ignore the threat. And I don’t see any other way to deal with it.”

Kevin Tolwyn spoke up again. “Whatever you do, you’ll have to do it fast,” he said. “That’s the rest of the bad news. Somehow the Council’s gotten hold of details of the refit here. Some of the political types are demanding the whole Goliath Project be called off right away. They’ll strip away the battle group, order the carrier scrapped, and relieve or reassign the whole crew. And probably stage a vote of no confidence that’ll kick Kruger right out of office.”

“With a dreadnought staring down their throats?” Richards demanded.

“The President hasn’t shared that particular bit of intelligence, sir,” Captain Tolwyn replied. “He says it would only cause needless panic, under the circumstances.”

“That’s Old Max, all right,” Richards said grimly. “Willing to scuttle everything he’s done just to stand on a principle. How long?”

“The vote will be in a few days. It depends on whether the President can manage to stall them with parliamentary tactics.”

“I doubt that Max Kruger would know a parliamentary tactic if it pulled a laser pistol on him,” Richards said. “So we have to get moving before somebody notices what we’re up to, is that it?”

“Yes, sir,” the younger Tolwyn said.

“I hope all of you know just how little I like this,” the battle group commander told them. “Okay. We’re out of options and out of maneuvering room. I’ll draft the orders to get underway as soon as we can take care of all the noncombatant ships and personnel.”

“We could escort them as far as Oecumene,” Admiral Tolwyn suggested. “There’s a small fleet detachment there that could look after the Carnegie and the City of Cashel. That way we wouldn’t have to detach any of our combat ships for escort duty.”

“Good thought, Geoff,” Richards said. “God…there’s a thousand things to do, and no time to do them.” He looked at the younger Tolwyn. “I imagine you’ll want to get back to Landreich before Independence spaces.”

‘Tfes, sir.“ Kevin paused. ”I’d rather go with you, but I have my own Flight Wing to consider. They’re drafting every spare plane that can fly to rebuild from the losses we suffered at Hellhole. And we’re competing with Arbroath, too, for birds and pilots. I have to be there.“

“You always did know where your duty was, Kevin,” Bondarevsky said, rising as the younger man did and taking his hand. “We’ve had to say good-bye a good many times not knowing if one or both of us was going to buy the farm out there. This time…well, who knows. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too, Jason,” he replied. He turned and gave Richards a salute. “Sir, I don’t think luck’s of much use where you’re headed, but good luck to you anyway.”

Richards shook his hand. “And to you. Watch that ass Galbraith.”

Kevin’s uncle stepped up to him last of all. “I brought you out here because I was afraid for your safety back on Earth,” he said. “Now both of us are back in the front lines again. I’m sorry, Kevin.”

“Don’t be, sir,” the younger man said. “This is the job I chose. And you know I’m pretty damned hard to get rid of. Just make sure you’re as hard to kill off, when you hit Baka Kar.”

The admiral looked old as he faced his nephew. “You’ve done the family proud, Kevin. Always remember that.” Then, after the briefest of embraces, he stepped back. “Now get back on that courier and go tell Max Kruger we’ll make his suicide run for him. But if I get back from Baka Kar alive I expect to see every can of beer on Landreich waiting for me!”

Kevin saluted again and left. As the door slid shut behind him, Richards spoke again. “All right, gentlemen, it looks as if we have some planning to do. Let’s break it down into a few main headings. There’s the jump drive…”

Flight Deck, FRLS Mjollnir

Near Jump Point One, Oecumene System

1315 hours (CST), 2371.036

“What do you mean, I don’t have a spot? For God’s sake, woman, I’m a civilian! And I’m not riding this tub into a war zone!”

Bondarevsky strode purposefully across the open flight deck toward the source of the shouts and abusive language. As he’d expected, he discovered Armando Diaz at the center of it all, engaged in a heated argument with Sparks. The woman looked uncomfortable, standing by the ramp up to the shuttle with a computer clipboard in her hand and a harried expression on her face. Sparks was used to dealing with small craft repairs and resupply, where her charges didn’t talk back or make demands. But Bondarevsky had press-ganged her into this detail because every department on the ship was so short-handed.

“What’s the problem here, Lieutenant?” he said loudly as he strode up behind Diaz.

The salvage expert turned. ‘The problem, Bondarevsky, is that I haven’t been given a seat of any of the outgoing shuttles. This is the final evacuation flight to the City of Cashel, is it not?“

He nodded. “It is, Major,” he said, slightly emphasizing the courtesy rank to remind Diaz of his status. “I’m afraid there must have been a mistake made somewhere-”

“There certainly has been!” Diaz interjected.

“A breakdown in communications,” Bondarevsky went on. “Apparently you weren’t informed that the Admiral had requested you to stay on with the other computer experts from your team.”

“What? I’ll do no such thing! I’m-”

“You’re a major in the Landreich Armed Forces, sir, and thus under military discipline. And your services as a computer expert are very much in need right now. We have a great deal of information to extract from the Kilrathi computer records, and only a limited number of people to take care of the problem.”

“Now see here, Bondarevsky-”

“That’s Captain Bondarevsky, Major,” he said quietly. “Look, I’m not happy about the situation either. But you answer to Admiral Richards. You have a complaint, you take it to him. In the meantime, get off my flight deck and stop holding up people who have a legitimate reason for leaving the ship. Or shall I ask Colonel Bhaktadil to have some of his marines escort you to your quarters? Or to see the admiral?”

Diaz opened his mouth, then caught the look in Bondarevsky’s eyes and closed it again. He turned and stalked away without another word.

“Thanks, skipper,” Sparks said. “I’m afraid I didn’t handle him very well.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “Lieutenant Cartwright was supposed to handle it, but he got sidetracked by half-a-dozen other jobs. Not that Richards is likely to forgive him any time soon.”

“I’ve seen a lot of confusion in my day, skipper, but I think this takes the prize.”

“Yeah. How’s it going otherwise?”

“This is the last batch,” she told him. “The only other problem…well, I’m not even sure it is a problem, sir. But most of the Cats didn’t show up for their shuttle. What should I do about it?”

He smiled faintly. “This time I’m the one to blame for not keeping you informed, Sparks,” he admitted. “I just got out of a meeting with Murragh and the Admiral. Most of the Cats want to stay with us.”

“That’s crazy,” she said flatly.

“That’s what I said. But Murragh convinced the Admiral it’s the best hope we have of getting past Ragark’s pickets. And I’m afraid he might be right.”

He didn’t tell her about the fierce argument that had raged in the Admiral’s ready room for the better part of two hours. Murragh had been given instructions to transfer with all of his people across to the City of Cashel along with the rest of the noncombatants on board-excepting the handful who, like Diaz, were needed to help them prepare for the raid on Baka Kar. But the Kilrathi prince had managed to learn the reason for the transfer order, and he had appealed directly to Richards for permission to stay on board.

“My cadre still know the systems better than most of your men, Admiral,” he had said. “And it might be a very good idea to have a few genuine kili on board in case your simulacrums are not effective.” His shrug had been thoroughly human, as eloquent as a Frenchman’s might have been. “You cannot tell, can you? What you might encounter? I would say it was a bad time to throw away your assets.”

“It isn’t your fight, Murragh,” Richards had told him coldly. “And anyway, we’re talking about a suicide mission. This is no place to risk the rightful prince of the Empire. Not when it is likely we’ll be destroyed out there.”

“Unless you think you can persuade your people not to fight?” That had been Tolwyn, who had been summoned to the meeting in haste once Richards and Bondarevsky had learned what the Kilrathi prince wanted.

“That, I fear, is unlikely,” Murragh said. “I am the legitimate heir to the throne, closest survivor to the old Emperor’s bloodline. But that is all I am. Hraijhak…the closest equivalent I have seen in any of your books was in something Graham lent me, a book on Celtic history. I am…tanist, the most likely heir. But until I have been seated upon the Imperial Throne and received the fealty of the major clan leaders, I have no authority. And if it really is Dawx Jhorrad who commands Vorghath, you can be sure that he, at least, will not renounce whatever oath he has sworn to Ragark simply because I may have the better claim. Especially as Ragark is quite evidently a powerful warlord now while I…have but a small following.”

“All the more reason to keep you out of harm’s way, then,” Richards had said.

“No, Admiral, it is quite otherwise. If I am ever to claim my place in the Empire, I must first prove myself against Ragark and the other would-be usurpers. As I have no following of my own, I must find my allies where I can. My people respect warriors who will go into battle against their enemies, Admiral. Let me go into this one with you. I promise that my people will be able to assist you.”

Richards had yielded at last, grumbling, just as he had when the original orders had come from Kruger. So Murragh and nearly a hundred Kilrathi would be on board as part of the crew when the Mjollnir went into action. Only those whose commitment to the Prince s cause was doubtful were being shuttled across to the transport as the battle group prepared to leave Oecumene.

At least the jump engines had worked. That had been the last remaining worry as they broke orbit and began the voyage outward from Vaku. Once again Graham had proven his worth as Chief Engineer. Mjollnir was ready for action…or at least as ready as she ever would be.

Watching the confusion on the flight deck as the last of the nonessential personnel made ready to leave, Bondarevsky could only hope they were ready enough.

Carrier Space Traffic Control Center, FRLS Independence

Orbiting Landreich, Landreich System

1515 hours (CST)

The communications monitor in one corner of CSTCC had been tuned to a commercial news and information holo-vid channel broadcast from the capitol. Almost everyone in the compartment, from Kevin Tolwyn down to the junior spacer assigned to sweep up and keep coffee cups filled, spent at least as much time watching that monitor as they did doing their real jobs.

“What do you think, Tolwyn?” the Space Officer, Howard Reed, asked around a mugful of coffee. “Will Old Max pull it off? You’re his new fair-haired boy, after all.”

“I don’t know, Boss,” Tolwyn replied, shaking his head. “I just don’t know if he can manage another miracle this time.”

On the monitor, they could see the Council of Delegates waiting in the Council Hall. There was a restive air about them, and the commentator was filling time with a lengthy explanation of the procedures for a vote of no confidence under Landreich’s constitution.

Tolwyn had barely returned from Vaku when the announcement had gone out. Galbraith’s faction had moved to call a fresh session of the Council, and foremost on the agenda was a move to censure Kruger for his reckless handling of defense funds. That could only mean that Galbraith had decided to reveal the details he had somehow learned of the Goliath Project, which meant that the secret of the Mjollnir would soon come out for all to hear…including the Kilrathi.

Knowing that Richards and the others had been discussing a plan involving pretending to be a Kilrathi carrier, Tolwyn was worried. So far the newsmen were still in the dark, since Galbraith clearly wanted to reveal the Goliath Project in the most dramatic fashion possible. But once this session got under way, there would be no stopping the truth from coming out.

And Mjollnir would end up sailing right into disaster, unless they heard the news and turned back. Tolwyn doubted they’d have a chance. By his calculations, based on the schedule he’d received in last contact between the carrier and his courier shuttle heading for home, they would just be getting ready to make the hyperjump from Oecumene to Hellhole, and then on to Baka Kar. Tolwyn doubted they’d be watching LN amp;IC news, and it was unlikely that anything would be going out on official channels. Not unless Kruger decided to call them off now that he knew he wouldn’t escape his political enemies…and that didn’t sound one bit like Old Max.

So Mjollnir was heading straight into trouble, and the Landreich fleet had been held back by a direct Presidential order on the eve of spacing for Ilios. The entire strategy was coming apart, and all because Max Kruger’s government was falling apart around them.

No one knew why the President had held back the fleet. Some thought he might try to use it to stage a coup of sorts and retake his own government, but with Galbraith the senior captain it seemed unlikely he’d get much support for such a move. Whatever game he was playing, it involved holding his cards close. He hadn’t even made it on time to the Council session. Hence the restless Delegates and the chattering news commentators.

“Shuttle coming in from planetside, Boss,” one of the technicians announced. “From the Navy Compound at Lutz Mannheim. All IFF codes approved.”

“Clear them,” Boss Reed ordered, setting down his coffee. “Must be that last load of maintenance stores Watanabe was complaining about.”

The shuttle came in faster than Tolwyn liked, flaring out to stoop low over the flight deck and come in for a slap-dash landing. The duty LSO winced and scrawled some comments on his computer board, the frown on his face and the way he underlined some of the words with an angry flourish making it clear to Tolwyn that he planned to dress down that pilot thoroughly later…if there was anything left after Boss Reed got through with him.

Through the transplast window overlooking the flight deck, Tolwyn could see technicians swarming in to secure the craft, but everything stopped when the hatch opened and the ramp unfolded down to the deck.

Standing there at the top of the ramp, dressed in a flight suit and holding a pressure helmet under one arm, was President Max Kruger.

Tolwyn left the CSTCC at a dead run.

It took only a minute or so to reach the flight deck, and Kruger had just stepped clear of the ramp. His craggy face broke into a smile as he caught sight of Tolwyn rushing breathless across the wide expanse of the deck. “Ah, Captain, I’m glad you were on duty,” he said genially. “Is the flight deck security monitor recording?”

Taken aback, Tolwyn could only give a quick nod.

“Good,” Kruger said. He pulled out a folded paper from inside his flight suit, checked his wrist computer briefly, and opened the paper up. “It is now fifteen nineteen hours Confederation Standard Time,” he said. He started to read, the words so fast he was almost gabbling them in his haste. “To Maximillian Kruger, Commander-in-Chief, armed forces of the Free Republic of the Landreich, Sir: You are hereby requested and required to take up the charge and command of Admiral, Task Force Ilios, with your flag in the FRLS Independence or such other vessel as you shall see fit to choose, and with said Task Force proceed on operations out-system at your discretion. Nor you, nor any of you shall fail at your peril. Signed this thirty-sixth standard day, A. D. 2671, Maximillian Kruger, President and Commander-in-Chief.” He dropped the paper and met Tolwyn’s eyes. “I have now read myself in and taken command of this Task Force, Captain.”

Incredulous, Tolwyn nodded. “Yes, sir, you have.”

“Very well then. Please inform the Commanding Officer that the new Admiral is aboard and has ordered radio silence except for essential intership communications-no contact with the planet by any ship. The Task Force will get under way immediately.” He smiled again. “I would appreciate it if you would pass on those orders before you inform Captain Galbraith of the name of his new CO.”

“What’s this all about, sir?” Tolwyn asked.

Kruger’s smile turned predatory. “Danny Galbraith wants to use parliamentary tactics to get me? Well, I know a few of those myself, whatever my detractors might think. I helped write the damned Constitution! ‘No session of the Council of Delegates may be convened…’”

“‘…without the President or his appointed representative present to take charge of the meeting,’” Tolwyn finished the quote. “You mean…?”

“Right now, a whole roomful of politicians is waiting for me to show up. And I’m not going to be around.”

“There are safeguards…”

“I know. I wrote those, too. They have a whole lot of nonsense to go through, formally establishing my absence from the capitol, waiting to see if they can locate me or my designated Speaker, declaring me formally in contempt, appointing a Speaker-Designate…it’ll take them a week to get back to the business at hand, Captain. And meanwhile we’re going Cat-hunting at Ilios. The crisis will be over inside of that week. If we win, it won’t matter if they vote me out. And if we lose, either at Ilios or at Baka Kar, then it won’t matter one damned bit who’s President when we all go under.” He straightened his shoulders. “Now pass on my orders, Captain Tolwyn, and let’s get this show on the road.”