ctical purposes it is dead at the
moment."
     "So  what do  you  want, Duke?" Geoff asked,  cutting  straight  to the
point.
     "I'm ordering you to fall back on Earth."
     "What? Hell,  Duke, if they break our line there they'll fry Earth in a
matter of minutes.
     "I know, but we've been busy.  By the time you pull back, Lexington and
Ark ъoyal will be on line."
     "How?  The jump  engines on  Lex  and Ark  ъoyal  were  fully  out  for
realignment, and core reactors had been dumped."
     "If we're fighting  inside the home system  we  won't need jump engines
and both ships have one reactor back up and running."
     "They'll be sitting ducks."
     "They'd be  sitting  ducks in the dockyard  anyhow. At least  they  can
still launch fighters."
     Though  neither  one said  it, they  both knew  as  well  that  the two
additional  carriers would serve as targets, forcing the Kilrathi  to spread
out their attack.
     "Mars  is the closest planet in towards the jump line," Duke continued.
"We've packed every landing field there full of every damn fighter, trainer,
and even civilian light craft."
     "You've  got  to be kidding. I stripped out  every good plane and pilot
before I left. Put what's left into space and they'll die like flies."
     Duke nodded.
     "And the Kilrathi  will burn up ammunition  while some  of  our  people
still get in for another strike."
     He knew it was better than a  desperate  stand out here with no hope of
winning. If he stood now, it'd only delay the inevitable  by maybe a day  or
two at most.
     "Our psych analysis  people tell me that  even if you abandon this  key
jump  point, Thrakhath  will not spread  out into the inner worlds until  he
completes his kill of you and Earth. The bastard hates your  guts, according
to psych, for too many humiliations. He wants your hide almost as much as he
wants Earth. He'll follow you straight in."
     "You  know,  Duke,"  Geoff  said quietly,  "even  with  the  additional
material and manpower, they still have us. You saw what happened to my  last
strike, and those boys were the finest pilots in the fleet."
     "I know,  Geoff,  I know. But there's one more idea I sort of cooked up
on my own, that might help things out."
     "What?"
     And as Duke told him, Admiral Tolwyn came to his feet.
     "You're mad, Duke,  that's senseless  murder. You're bloody mad to even
think of it."
     "And that's why it might work," Duke said with a cold smile.

     "My lord Thrakhath."
     He turned to look at a holo display of his bridge captain.
     "The latest report, sire."
     "Go on."
     "The human fleet is turning about, retreating back towards Earth."
     "Are you certain?"
     "Yes, my lord."
     That caught him slightly  off guard.  He  had thought that Tolwyn would
make his final stand here. One system past Sirius, eight jump lines diverged
outward into the inner  worlds of the Confederation and  also  back outwards
towards the frontier. Control of the next system would be a major victory in
and of itself. Yet he was abandoning it now without a fight. Damn him.
     "Latest intelligence report?"
     "Three carriers still confirmed with their Third Fleet. Intelligence is
still working on their latest code but we have picked up a  civilian channel
reporting that  a carrier left its  Earth  base  six hours  ago,  and that a
second carrier is moving  up to join  the fleet.  The signal was from one of
their news stations and its coding simple to break."
     "The stupid fools."
     "Our latest damage report?"
     "Tarvakh  is still contending with internal fires,  all  three  forward
launch bays are closed. Yu'ba'tuk's main shield  generator is still off line
and one launch bay closed."
     "Secondary shielding?"
     "At ninety-one percent, expected to upgrade to ninety- three within the
hour."
     "Fighter losses?"
     "Heavy,  sire.  Seven  eight-of-eights  and  two  eights  today.  Eight
eight-of-eights and five eights total."
     Not good at all . The Empire could invest all it wanted on new carriers
that  were next to indestructible, but at  the core,  it still came  down to
having fighters  that were equal to  or better than the latest Confederation
designs,  and pilots  who were trained to  fly them. It  had always been the
weak  edge.  Except for  the  handful of  Stealth fighters possessed by  the
Empire,  fighter design and pilot training had never fully kept up with that
of  the  humans.  The emergencies of the last two years  had forced them  to
repeatedly reach into  the  academies and  throw  half-trained  cadets  into
action Ч where most of them died within a matter of days. The survivors were
tough, but there were always too few.
     He looked at what he had left and made his decisions.
     "Order Tarvakh to transfer her remaining fighters to my flagship.  That
will make  good on our  losses. Detail  off," and he paused to  look  at the
status of  the  three  surviving older  carriers. "Detail  off Notakgak  and
Darthuka and  their support ships to escort Tarvakh back to the Empire. Both
the retreating carriers  to transfer  their  heavy strike squadrons  to this
ship as well. Order the flanking  cruiser squadrons to  join us in the  next
sector forward. Their  fighters  will equal  those we lose from Notakgak and
Darthuka.  Order  the fleet  to move up to flank speed  in pursuit. When  we
reach  the next jump  point  send  the  first  wave of  light corvettes  and
minesweeps  through first, followed  by cruisers in case they are waiting in
ambush."
     The officer bowed in reply.
     "The  cruiser  squadron detailed to the main planet of  this system has
suppressed the planetary defenses, my lord. They are awaiting orders."
     Prince Thrakhath smiled.
     "Annihilate the planet, and then we go for Tolwyn and Earth."


        CHAPTEъ THIъTEEN


     Transjump completed, Prince Thrakhath stood up, expectant. A  tremor of
excitement  coursed  through him.  Involuntarily his talons extended and  he
felt saliva filling  his  mouth.  He  waited, heart racing as the jump point
confirmation flashed  across the main screen of the  battle  bridge. Optical
scanners swept space  and  then  finally  locked  on to what the Prince  was
seeking. Magnification  and computer enhancements kicked  in and  the  image
zoomed in, expanding.
     Earth  floated in the middle of the screen. A growl of triumphal shouts
echoed on  the battle  bridge, a  total breakdown of discipline that he  was
willing, at  least this  once, to  ignore and forgive, as  his  own howl  of
triumph mingled in with that of his crew.
     "Signal  the  fleet  on  an  open  channel, Thrakhath  roared  and  his
communications officer opened the line.
     "Today we shall watch Earth burn. Long live the Emperor and the Empire.
Standard battle formation, advance full speed ahead!"

     "They're starting to advance," Duke Grecko said quietly.
     Geoff Tolwyn  said nothing, intently studying the long  range  tactical
display, as the information was relayed in by a line of picket ships pulling
back ahead of the Imperial Fleet.
     The advance came straight on  with  a  defiant  certainty. There was no
elaborate  maneuvering,  no  attempts at  tactical ploys. The Kilrathi  main
battle fleet came on in a solid mass, arrogant in its overwhelming power.
     "I'd better get to my ship," Duke said.
     "Your  tactical plan  is suicidal, Duke. Ship-to-ship fighting isn't  a
Marine job.  Leave it to the fleet. And by God, Duke,  boarding is something
straight out of Nelson and Trafalgar."
     "I'll be damned if we're sitting this fight out, so don't argue with me
about it."
     Geoff looked over at him, smiled, and took his old friend's hand.
     "All right, it just might work.  But you know,  Duke, the  proper place
for the Head of Joint Chiefs is back at headquarters on Earth."
     Duke sniffed angrily.
     "Look, Geoff. Up until they decided to make me a hero after Vukar I was
a line officer.  Being in command  of the whole show was never my plan. I'll
be  damned if I  hide in a bunker while my grunts are fighting for survival.
Anyhow, I've always wanted to lead a battle like this."
     "Leading men  in a  desperate battle, against impossible odds?"  Tolwyn
said with a smile. "What are you, the reincarnation of Patton?"
     "Don't let anyone in on the secret, Geoff"
     "Take care, Duke."
     "God speed and good hunting, Geoff. I'll see you at sundown."
     Geoff  laughed  softly and walked his commander off the bridge and down
the  corridor  to the  starboard launch bay. Fighters were lined up down the
length of the  deck,  crews going over  last  minute  checks, armament teams
finishing  up  loading,  and  repair  crews off to one  side, struggling  to
salvage and bring back into the fight craft damaged in the Battle of Sirius.
     A Marine  landing craft was on the launch line, pilots  standing by the
open  door,  talking  with  the  launch  officer.  At the  sight  of  Grecko
approaching they stiffened, came to attention and saluted.
     "At ease, boys. Fire the engine up and let's get to work."
     Geoff saluted Duke, who looked back at him and smiled.
     "Give Сem  hell,  Geoff," and then he was gone, the entry hatch closing
behind him and snicking shut.
     Geoff stood  back  from  the  launch line  as  the  deck launch officer
stepped up forward and beside the Marine landing craft. She held her hand to
her  ear protectors,  waiting to hear  from the senior launch  officer  that
Marine  1  was  cleared. She  saluted  the pilot when  word of clearance was
passed, crouched  down  and  pointed  forward.  The  landing  craft  started
forward, clearing the airlock, then kicked on full afterburners and, turning
to starboard, disappeared.
     Thirty million clicks beyond the airlock Mars hovered in  the darkness,
a bright point of red light. Thin lines of reflected silver light moved past
the airlock, hundreds of light civilian  ships heading outward, with several
hundred Marine landing craft moving in the middle of the formation.
     Geoff felt sick at heart watching them and turned heading  back  up the
corridor.  He  was  already  late  for  the  final  briefing  and  he  moved
purposefully down the main corridor into the pilot quarters and ready room.
     "Attention!"
     Geoff came  into  the ready room,  his features  set,  and  reached the
lectern. He looked out at his pilots.
     Nearly half the faces were new, many of them cadets pulled straight out
of the Academy to replace the losses from Sirius.
     God, we're sending children out now.
     "At ease. Be seated."
     "I'll  keep  this short, we don't have  much time. You'll be pleased to
know  that  Lexington  has  just  cleared  dry  dock,  carrying  fifty-seven
fighters. That'll give us five fleet carriers for this action."
     Actually he  knew  it was  almost meaningless. Lexington  was coming up
with  just a little  more than half  her complement and running on secondary
reactor  power  only.  It  was  nothing  more  than bait,  moving  ahead  of
Concordia, Saratoga, Ark ъoyal and Leyte Gulf. With three hundred additional
fighters sortied up from Mars and Earth orbital bases, there'd  be just over
six hundred fighters, half of them with green crews  who'd never seen action
beyond a flight simulator.
     "You know your missions. Blue  Three,  you're  flying Combat Air Patrol
over the carriers. Blue Two, you're escorting in the Broadswords."
     He could see Blue Three was less than amused, getting stuck in a purely
defensive role.  Blue  Two knew what was going to happen  to her but  didn't
display a flicker of emotion. The Kilrathi would turn their full fury on the
Broadswords  and Sabres, and with less than eighty making  up the strike and
eighty escorts, the chances of any of them coming back was nil.
     He hesitated for a second.
     "Blue One,  you have  the second strike escort  slot. It's  going to be
grim.  You have to remember what the  final objective is,  and remember that
they're all volunteers out there."
     His nephew looked up at him and forced a smile. Geoff paused and looked
over at the tactical display flickering in the briefing room's holo.
     The Kilrathi Fleet was still  staying together, coming straight in at a
range  of  twenty  million  clicks  and  closing. Thanks  to simple  orbital
mechanics, Mars was the closest planet to the jump point, with Earth seventy
million clicks behind it
     The huge colonies on  the moons of Saturn and Jupiter  were on the  far
side of the system. The only settlement areas now being over run were in the
asteroid belt and had already been abandoned.
     "Pilots, man your planes," Geoff  said quietly and he saluted first  as
they came back to their feet.
     The pilots and  crews stormed  out of  the  room.  The usual banter and
bravado was gone today. They were silent,  some obviously frightened, all of
them filled with a grim determination. He felt he could have made a bit more
of an emotional appeal, but knew that was nothing but crap. Everyone of them
knew that this  was no ordinary battle.  If  this  one was lost the Kilrathi
would be above Earth within hours.
     Kevin came  past him,  helmet tucked under his arm. His nephew  slowed,
looking at him out of the comer of his eye.
     The hell with protocol, Geoff thought as he stepped forward and put his
hands on Kevin's shoulders.
     "I've never been prouder of you, Kev. Now take care of yourself."
     Kevin looked at him, his eyes bright.
     "It's an  honor to be with you today, sir,"  he said, trying to control
the tremor in his voice. Geoff let go of him and the boy followed the stream
of pilots out the door.

     "Launch all fighters. Let us finish this hunt."
     Prince  Thrakhath turned away  from the screen, a tingle  of excitement
coursing through him as the fighter launch klaxon sounded through the ship.
     Before him stood the Baron.
     "You do not look thrilled about our impending victory, Baron."
     Baron Jukaga merely snarled, looking at the Prince defiantly.
     "I have one final little assignment for you, Baron."
     "Go on then, what is it?"
     And as Thrakhath told  him the Baron's eyes went  wide  with shock  and
rage.
     "It  is useless, senseless. The Emperor  ordered  you  to  preserve the
planet for the next Sivar."
     "There are a hundred other worlds to choose  from  once this is done. A
squad of Imperial Marines will now escort you to your ship, Baron."
     Baron Jukaga looked coldly at the Prince and then spat on the floor.
     Prince  Thrakhath merely laughed in reply as Baron  Jukaga was escorted
from the room.
     "My  lord,  there  are  significantly   more  ships  than  intelligence
indicated."
     Thrakhath looked back at the main screen and ordered the forward picket
ships to send back  enhanced optical  scan. He waited for the  visuals to be
returned,  watching the display of  the two  fleets being deployed. More and
more blips of enemy ships were appearing, moving out from behind other ships
which had been masking them. He had his suspicions as to what  the new ships
were and did not feel overly worried. One of the advantages of having had an
embassy team on Earth was the ability to conduct reconnaissance. It was made
even  better by  the fact  that  their  own  Foreign Minister  had become  a
traitor. Too bad she was under arrest.
     "They're civilian ships, my lord. Numerous light craft, personal ships,
light  business  ships  of  corvette  size,   shuttle  craft,  and  civilian
interplanet transports."
     Thrakhath nodded.
     "They're  throwing everything in as a screen to waste  our  weapons on.
Order the outer  wave of fighters  to ignore them and  to concentrate on the
incoming Broadswords and  Sabres. Once their  offensive capability has  been
smashed we can turn our attention to  this chaff they  throw out and destroy
them."
     "We're also detecting Marine assault and landing ships, my lord."
     Thrakhath stirred, ordering that this  new sighting be  highlighted  on
the main display. Several  hundred  of  the blips  started to  blink  bright
yellow.
     What were they up to?
     "A diversionary effort, my lord?"
     He looked over at his chief tactical officer.
     He still had  over seventeen hundred fighters at his  disposal,  almost
all  of  them already  launched  and  moving  towards  position.  The  first
offensive  strike wave  was  already  committed,  four  hundred strike craft
moving out past the outer line of picket ships with four eights of corvettes
and light frigates in escort. Long range Confederation patrols were  already
moving to intercept, a pitiful six eights of fighters.
     He was holding back over a thousand craft,  assuming  a more  defensive
posture than  in  the last battle. One  of his  carriers  was  gone, another
slightly damaged. He would absorb and  totally destroy the offensive strike,
eliminating the  final threat. Then  he would smash  through with a  totally
annihilating second strike,  smashing whatever was left of  the enemy fleet.
They could no longer retreat and regroup, they would have to stand and die.
     But the Marines? What were they for? To draw fire, obviously, while the
last of the Broadswords went in.
     "Still concentrate on the Broadswords," he said. "Then we slaughter the
rest."

     Kevin  tried to  purge the  anguish, to block it out.  His friends, his
comrades were dying. Flickers  of light  filled space straight  ahead and to
starboard a hundred and  fifty clicks away. The  Broadsword strike was going
in. His  tactical screen traced  the attack. The first  wave of Broadswords,
what few  were  left,  was slowing, hovering.  Going through  the  agonizing
thirty second countdown  to launch. And one after another their transponders
winked off, the blue blips  replaced  by  brief flashes  of  light  and then
disappearing.
     He switched to strike two's main comm channel.
     "Ten seconds, nine, keep Сem off, keep Сem off. . ."
     "I can't eject, I can't get out, oh God I'm burning . . ."
     "Six on your tail, Maria, break, break . . ."
     "Yellow three, torpedo lock failed, am . . ."
     The  signals became fewer, space ahead flashing with hundreds of points
of light.
     The second  wave,  going  towards  the  carriers, was  straight  ahead,
slashing into the storm  of defense.  A hundred  Kilrathi fighters were  now
hitting into his  own attack column and ships were dying,  but the main blow
had not hit yet.
     "Blue One, we've got company coming."
     Kevin tore  his attention away from the dying attack and saw a  wave of
fifty fighters coming in from above and slashing into the column behind him.
He held course, looking over his shoulder.
     Nearly  a  thousand craft  were  spread out  around  him.  Off his port
quarter he saw a civilian  transplanet liner trying an evasive and disappear
in an explosion after a single burst of neutron bolts from a light fighter.
     It was suicide  and  he had to harden his heart to the realization that
was precisely what the  pilots flying the civilian craft had signed  on for.
They were  nothing more than sitting ducks, unshielded, totally defenseless.
Having been given pressure suits and  rescue transponders,  the  pilots were
told to bail out if things got too hot. But they were serving their purpose.
The  first waves of Kilrathi fighters, wading into  the hundreds of targets,
had  become  drunk with the thrill of killing.  He  watched  as  a flight of
Krants shot right through a line of Marine transports, not even botheri