s, will join us before  we reach  the frontier and
make the  first  penetration,  thus shielding  our  main  fleet  as long  as
possible. The  Fourth Fleet  of  the Claw, with three carriers, will  sortie
towards  the  Landreich  to pin  down any  forces  they  might  have  there,
preventing  them from  shifting against our flank.  The First Fleet  of  the
Claw, with three carriers, will make up the reserve. The other carriers have
been stripped of their crews and pilots for the Fifth Fleet and will be held
in reserve."
     "That is ten carriers," the Emperor said quietly.
     "You know the shortage of trained pilots has become serious. Either our
best pilots went with our new carriers or else the new fleet would be manned
by pilots with no combat experience. It will be a year before we have enough
fully trained pilots and fighters  to bring the older  reserve carriers back
to operational strength.
     The Emperor nodded grimly.
     "So let it be," he said, turning away. "Now bring me victory."


        CHAPTEъ ELEVEN


     Weary with  exhaustion,  Captain  Jason Bondarevsky  strode  across the
landing  field towards the  command post  with Admiral ъichards behind  him.
Stepping onto the veranda  he  coldly eyed the two  Landreich guards  at the
door.
     "I'm here to see Kruger."
     "We have no orders to let you pass, sir."
     "To hell with your orders, I want to see that son of a bitch  now," and
he moved to shoulder his way past the guards.
     Caught by surprise they backed up slightly and then physically moved to
block the doorway, one of them grabbing him by the shoulder.
     "Listen, sir, don't make me get rough about this," the guard snapped.
     "Get the hell out of my way right now, mister."
     "Hold  it, Jason,"  and  he  looked  back at  ъichards.  "They're  just
following orders."
     The guards looked to  ъichards  with  some  relief. They obviously knew
that Kruger would skin them alive if anyone got past.  They knew as well who
it  was they were trying to  stop, and  even if he was Confederation, he was
also a first class hero.
     "Sir, if you  stay  put,  I'd  go in  and get  my captain,"  a sergeant
growled, coming out of the doorway to the aid of the two guards.
     "Well, damn it, go get him," Jason snapped, and the sergeant turned and
went into the building.
     Jason paced up and down  the length of the veranda angry at everything,
his  mood made worse by the searing heat of the Hell Hole. He could feel the
moisture  draining  out  of   his  body,  barely  cooling  his  skin  before
evaporating.
     He looked back at one of the guards.
     "You know something, corporal, this planet of yours truly sucks."
     The corporal showed the faintest of smiles.
     "I fully agree," he whispered.
     No longer able to get mad at the man, Jason turned away.
     "Admiral ъichards, Captain Bondarevsky?"
     Jason  turned  back  to  see  a very young  captain,  wearing  commando
fatigues and  barely out  of his  teens, in the doorway. Though  the man was
shorter than him by a good half a foot, and  skinny as  a rail, Jason  could
tell from his eyes that he was deadly.
     "President Kruger is expecting you, sir, come on in."
     Jason nodded, grateful to be stepping out  of the blazing  heat  of the
twin suns and into the dark cool corridor. He followed the captain down into
the below ground bunker, the captain  leading  him through  the  blast doors
into  Kruger's small  and  austere office. The captain withdrew, closing the
door behind him.
     Kruger looked up from his desk
     "Care for a cold one?" and he motioned to a refrigerator.
     "Don't  mind  if I do," ъichards said, and  he went over to the refrige
and pulled out a beer.
     Jason  looked  at the Admiral angrily and then back  at Kruger who  sat
behind his desk, smiling.
     "Well, young captain, out with it."
     "We  monitored that  signal reporting  the confirmed  loss  of  Tarawa,
Bannockburn,  and Normandy,"  he continued.  "Just who the hell do you think
you are to do that?"
     "Last time I checked I was president of the Landreich son. Just who the
hell are you?"
     "An officer in the . . ." he paused. He was, in fact, not an officer in
Confederation at all but rather on leave, serving the Landreich forces.
     "You are under my orders, young captain, and need  you or not, I'll put
your  ass in the clink till this planet turns  into an ice ball if you  ever
talk like that to me again."
     Jason stood silently, still seething with anger.
     "How  about  that beer, Jason?"  and  ъichards came back  to  his side,
holding an open container.
     Jason  stared  at  ъichards, expecting  support,  but  ъichards  merely
smiled.
     "But the emergency  decree.  Three-ninety-fourA is mobilizing all fleet
personnel, and that includes me and my ship," Jason finally replied.
     "Jason, we are officially listed as  missing in action, presumed dead,"
ъichards replied, "and I think our host intends to keep it that way."
     Jason looked back at Kruger.
     "I have your carrier and the others," Kruger replied. "We can make this
happen one of two ways, young  sir. Either you continue to command your ship
under Landreich colors or one of my  people will. I'd rather have you do it.
You know  the  ship better than anyone else, and  besides that,  you're damn
good. You managed to bring her out in one piece.
     "No thanks to you."
     Kruger smiled.
     "You're here, aren't you? Therefore,  any effort expended on my part to
pull you out would have been a waste."
     Jason felt  ready to explode  again. He had made a fifteen day run out,
pursued all  the  way  to the frontier  Bannockburn, the only  Stealth light
recon ship in  the fleet  was finally turned around  and  sent back  on auto
pilot with Paladin cramming into a light  shuttle sent over from Tarawa. The
momentary  delay created  by  the supposed  counter attack  had  gotten them
through the final jump with a very angry Paladin cursing the entire universe
over the loss of his ship,
     He had not been able to  snatch more than two hours' sleep at a stretch
throughout the  entire retreat and all he really wanted  now was for someone
at  whom to  vent his rage for being left out  in the  cold after doing  his
mission. A barroom  brawl might  even serve the  bill, and then a good drink
followed  by  a  long  sleep. And beyond that, there was  still the pain  of
losing Hunter.
     ъichards, without waiting for the  offer from Kruger, settled down on a
sagging  and thread  bare sofa, which obviously doubled as Kruger's bed, and
took a long pull on his beer.
     "You know something, Kruger," ъichards said, "I got holy  hell over the
fact that you hijacked that destroyer from my squadron and went gallivanting
off."
     СVance, that was thirty years ago."
     "Well, I got a reprimand in my  file thanks to you, and wound up a desk
jockey in intelligence.
     "Consider  that beer as  payment  then.  You most likely would have had
your butt  blown off  by now if I hadn't worked your  transfer  for you like
that. There are very few old destroyer skippers  floating  around.  Besides,
last I heard you loved intelligence work."
     ъichards chuckled  and held  up the container in salute and then looked
back at Jason.
     "Settle down, son, the old  man did the right thing. He didn't have the
assets to  pull  us  out,  it was that simple.  You did a damn masterful job
getting out  on  your  own. So  damn good  I  think Kruger  here owes you  a
decoration."
     "I hereby award you the Order of Nova with diamonds and promote you  to
commodore," Kruger said sarcastically. "My adjutant will  send you the award
and paperwork when  he  gets  the time. It's a  nice looking  piece of  tin,
you'll like it. Does that settle it?"
     Jason could see that he wasn't going  to win but still didn't know what
to do.
     "I want to rejoin the Confederation fleet with my ship."
     "Impossible,"  Kruger  snapped.  "I  need  you  here, and  here  you're
staying."
     "Look, son," ъichards said, suddenly serious. "It's a ten  day  transit
back to  Earth at full speed. You'll arrive back  to  the inner  worlds with
just twenty fighters on board."
     "None,"  Kruger  growled.  "Most  of  them  are  mine  anyhow, and  I'm
requisitioning the rest."
     "All right then, none, and no munitions, because even if Kruger did let
you go I doubt he'd spare one IFF missile out of his stores to refit you."
     Kruger nodded and said nothing.
     "The battle  shaping  up  back there, wherever it  is they're going  to
fight it, might already  be over. Meanwhile, we can expect a major sortie by
the Cats straight in  here to pin us down. You could very well run  from one
action to the other and miss both. It's that simple."
     Jason had  already heard  the argument  once before from ъichards  just
before  loading him into the Sabre for the trip from orbit down  to the Hell
Hole. He'd been too damn angry over the abandonment and then from the signal
reporting him dead to think. He realized  now  he could no longer argue  the
point.
     "Damn you,"  he said  quietly, looking  back at Kruger. "All right, you
won. You've got me."
     "I'm so  honored that  you would  volunteer to join me," Kruger replied
with false sincerity.
     He took an old style printout report and held it up.
     "This is our latest intelligence  report. Three  Kilrathi  carriers are
moving  to  the frontier and  are  expected to cross it momentarily, with an
estimated eighteen escort ships. They're moving  straight at  Landreich  and
will make planetfall here in this system within eighteen hours."
     And your response."
     "Meet them and beat them, it's that simple."
     "Four escort carriers going  head to head  against three Kilrathi fleet
carriers?" Jason asked. "At best we've  got  a hundred fighters on board our
ships."
     "Eighty seven."
     "They'll have  over  three  hundred. We'll be frozen meat an hour after
the action starts."
     "Do you have any better ideas?"
     Jason  looked at the President. Though he was still simmering with rage
he could not help but wish that it had been Kruger who had been running  the
Confederation instead  of  ъodham.  They wouldn't be in this mess now if  it
were.
     "No, sir."
     "Then get back to your ship . We leave here in six hours."
     "What about the Confederation, sir, what's happening there?"
     "The usual screw-up. The only  positive sign is that  Geoff is  heading
Third  Fleet.  They moved  out five days ago, and  have  kept radio  silence
since."
     "Admiral Tolwyn commanding the Third? What about Banbridge?"
     Kruger  told  him of the bomb  plot,  the  pardon,  and  the  political
confusion  that  still  gripped  the Confederation, along with  the  growing
panic.
     Jason took it all in, wishing more than ever he could be back under his
old commander for the showdown.
     "If Geoff stops the invasion, it'll be a miracle," Kruger said.
     "And if he doesn't, what about you then?"
     Kruger smiled, the first time Jason had ever seen him do it.
     "We'll  survive. It's  what we've been  doing  for  thirty years,  with
precious little help from your Confederation, I might add."

     "It's  official,  gentlemen,  a state of  war now  exists  between  the
Kilrathi Empire and the Confederation. Four old  style carriers crossed  the
frontier four hours ago, and the Senate passed the declaration."
     He looked  around at his bridge crew  on  Concordia  flagship of  Third
Fleet.
     "All signal traffic from Station  Hanover and the  Hanovian  System was
lost forty-five minutes ago,  the last report stating they  were under heavy
attack."
     "Good God, there's two million  people on that world," a  staff  ensign
whispered.
     "There were two million people there," Geoff said.
     Geoff  saw  a  young  communications  technician lean  over  his  desk,
covering his  face, and he inwardly cursed, realizing that Hanover was  most
likely the boys home. He wanted to say something, to  apologize for his lack
of tact, but knew he couldn't. The cold reality of what they were facing had
to be driven home.
     The bridge was silent, more than  one turning to look at the boy as  he
muffled a sob and then sat back up, his features pale.
     "We're going to lose a lot of worlds in the days to come," Tolwyn said,
"a lot of worlds."
     "Communications, put laser locks on the other  ships in the fleet, pass
the information, and order all ships to continue silent running."
     He turned and retreated back to his wardroom. Sighing, he settled  down
into his chair and  looked  at the holo map.  They were now positioned three
jump points ahead of Sirius in towards the frontier. The Kilrathi had yet to
show their main fleet. The carriers could be a diversion, or the vanguard of
the main assault
     Damn,  to be able to use full size carriers as a vanguard, while he had
to husband  the  five  ships that  would  be under his command,  that is  if
Saratoga and Leyte Gulf could get up in time to join his other two ships. He
ran a quick question  into his nav system and the answer coldly blinked back
at him. If the  Kilrathi came on at flank speed,  they'd get to Sirius a day
and a half before the other two carriers could join up.
     He  looked  at the three dimensional map, pausing for a moment as a new
signal burst in, updating the situation. Three more red blips  appeared, the
three tentatively  identified  as cruiser squadrons, crossing  the frontier.
Far off to one side, over by Landreich, a  thin red  line was already traced
deep  into Kruger's  territory, two definite and one probable carrier moving
fast towards the core worlds of Landreich.
     Which was the main assault? The carriers at Hanover could be a feint to
draw  him  in,  the main  fleet following behind  one of  the three  cruiser
squadrons.  If he  had the  strength, that would be his approach,  hoping to
draw the enemy forward,  then  flanking by a side jump line, cutting him off
from the rear.
     He  sat  back,  hands  clasped, pondering,  wishing  he  could  somehow
penetrate  the fog  of war.  The Kilrathi had shut down  nearly all military
channels  and  kept silence ever since the  burst  signal  from  Tarawa  got
through,  except  for the nonstop bombardment  of propaganda. The  mere fact
that signal  traffic  was nonexistent  showed  just  how  well  planned  the
operation was. In the ordinary sphere of war, it was impossible to  maintain
operations for long without a steady flow of information.
     Masterful.
     I've got to buy a  little  time till they show their hand,  but  at the
same  time I  need  to wiggle a little bait, bringing the  main  assault  on
myself.
     It was almost a foregone conclusion that Thrakhath was in charge of the
main fleet.  He was always bullheaded, and  when he believed himself to have
the  upper  edge, arrogant. Thrakhath never really gave  a damn about taking
territory; he wanted battle, to close with his enemy and destroy him.
     He'll  come straight  in and dare me to  stop him. He  was  behind  the
carriers.
     I need to show confidence, aggression, he thought, not  let  them think
we're already whipped.
     Geoff punched in to his bridge officer.
     "Pass the  word to the fleet. We  jump forward to the Warsaw system and
will move at full speed to meet the carriers head on. Get Admirals Ching and
Bjornsson on laser."
     He turned  the channel  off  and  within seconds felt the vibration run
through the ship as the helm officer called for full engine thrust.
     Ching's image materialized on a flat screen, the bridge of his carrier,
Moskva, in the background, followed seconds later by Bjornsson, commander of
Verdun.
     "We're going  up to  bloody nose them a bit and  get  their attention,"
Geoff said. "It'll be three on four, and with luck we'll buy enough time for
our other two ships to get into position."
     "Tough move, Geoff," Ching said. "They could be  flanking in behind the
cruisers."
     "They're diversions. Thrakhath will come straight  on in, looking for a
fight."
     "I hope  you're right, Tolwyn. If not, they won't be  too happy back on
Earth if those super carriers get there and we're out chasing shadows.
     Tolwyn laughed grimly.
     "If they do, we won't hear the complaining for long."
     "It's a risky  move, Geoff," Bjornsson  said, her features grim. "If we
lose a carrier that'll leave just four to face off against the big ones."
     "If we don't slow them, there'll only be four anyhow in front of Sirius
when they arrive. It's a risk I'm willing to take though.
     "Glad you're running this one, Geoff. This isn't just a battle, its the
whole shooting match."
     "Yeah,  thanks.  If there's ever  another  time, remind  me  to  retire
first."
     The two admirals laughed softly and signed off.
     Again the thought crept in.  The  old rhetoric of the battlefield,  how
the fate of civilization depended on what happened next. It had been used by
his ancestors  when  they  had stood at Agincourt, Waterloo,  the  Somme and
against Hitler  and Zhing. In most  cases it was just rhetoric; this time it
was  for  real. He realized that  if  he allowed  himself  to  dwell  on the
outcomes it'd cripple him, and he pushed the fear aside. There would be time
enough for that later.
     Another  update flashed on  the holo, a blinking purple  light, showing
that action had started  in the Landreich. It had taken hours for the signal
to travel,  even at burst  speed. Three carriers of  the Kilrathi fleet  now
confirmed  against what  a colonial militia could put up. Their chances were
next to nothing, he thought, just about the same as ours.

     * * * * *

     "Ten seconds to jump and counting at nine, eight . . ."
     Jason punched in to the deck flight officer.
     "All fighters prepare for launch!"
     "Two, one, jump initiated."
     The phase shift of the jump field  kicked in, space in  the forward and
aft screens disappearing in a wavy haze. Jason swallowed hard, the momentary
nausea of jump taking hold, as Tarawa and everything inside of it winked out
of existence at jump point 324C and then rematerialized seconds later half a
dozen light years away, back into position in the Hell Hole system.
     The screen shifted, star fields returning to view.
     "All ahead full, move it!" Jason shouted and Tarawa surged forward. Not
five seconds later  Gallipoli appeared behind  him in  nearly the exact same
space  he had just been occupying, followed seconds later by two more escort
carriers.
     The maneuver was insane. Standard  fleet procedure was to have at least
one minute  intervals between jumps. The  actual point  of rematerialization
was  problematic, never occurring at  precisely the same spot, and if a ship
in transit  should  come  out  of jump in the same space occupied by another
vessel no one  in the two ships involved would ever  even realize that their
existence had suddenly winked out in a white hot explosion.
     "Launch all fighters, launch all fighters!"
     A hazy shimmer appeared in the forward screen.
     "Helm hard to port, up ninety degrees!"
     Tarawa  shifted,  turning,  as  a  destroyer  of  the  Landreich  fleet
materialized out of jump less than four hundred meters ahead.
     Jason was nearly knocked from his command chair and at the same instant
a bank of red lights started to flash at the damage control desk.
     "Ship  hulled starboard side, sections  twenty-two  through twenty-four
Decompression hull breach!"
     Internal