ies.
     "I tell you, Wayne, those colonials are  absolute masters at cobbling a
fleet together and keeping it flying. What they're having an impossible time
getting  through  legitimate  channels are the  latest high  tech  fighters,
electronics, and ship to ship missiles."
     "Legitimate channels?"
     Geoff laughed.
     "They're  still getting  some interesting equipment, but don't  ask  me
how."
     Banbridge nodded and smiled.
     "Spare parts  they  get from  cannibalizing, patching,  and  making do.
They've even produced their own heavy fighters, by taking obsolete three-man
patrol ships and jacking on the most god  awful bizarre engines  you've ever
seen. Anyone who flies them  deserves a medal of honor just  for turning the
engines on.
     "Now for frontier raiding, dealing with Kilrathi colonial  guard forces
or even light raiding fleets they could teach us a thing or two . But if the
main battle  fleet  ever  hits through there,  every planet in the Landreich
will be glowing and Kruger knows it. By heavens,  Wayne, the way he swore at
you, the Chief of Staff and ъodham were a thing to behold."
     "Will he stick with us though when the time comes?"
     "Only as far  as Landreich interests  are  concerned. Frankly, I  think
he'd be happy if the Confederation and the  Empire blew each  other the hell
apart and the colonials were the only ones left."
     "I just bet that old bastard does," Banbridge said with  a smile. "He's
the most amazing pain  in  the  butt I've ever  known, and also  one  of the
best."
     "When  do you  want me  to  go back out?" Tolwyn  asked.  "I think it's
crucial that if things  go bad that  I'm out there with  him. I know he sees
through  this  little  court  martial  game I  went  through. He  knows  I'm
operating  covertly for the Chief of Staff and intelligence, and  I guess he
sort of likes me as a result."
     "That's part of the  reason you got picked for the  assignment, I had a
gut feeling he'd see you as a bit  of a renegade, and  your  fighting record
was sure to impress him."
     Geoff nodded and was silent. There was  nothing really to  be said.  He
had  been  asked to volunteer for the assignment, to  deliberately provoke a
court martial offense, to seek a dishonorable discharge in order  to go into
covert operations. It had  destroyed  his reputation, making him a pariah in
his  own service, except for the half dozen or  so people who were in on the
secret.  If his  old mentor and friend had asked him to kill himself for the
good of the service he would not hesitate.
     "I do have one question that's troubling me though," Geoff finally said
and he hesitated for a moment.
     "What about Project Omega?"
     Banbridge looked over at Tolwyn in surprise.
     "Son, you were  never cleared to  know that.  Damn, if I had  known you
were on the in on Project Omega  I'd never have  let you go running off with
Tarawa the way you did. You aren't supposed to know anything about it."
     Tolwyn smiled.
     "But I do, and don't ask me how."
     Banbridge nodded.
     "Still being  supported  through black funds. This project  ъodham does
know  about, but no one else  in the cabinet has been cleared. He  agreed to
keep it going, I guess  in part as  a lever to force  the Chief into signing
the armistice. ъodham thinks Omega is our ace in the hole."
     "And how close is it to completion?"
     Banbridge shook his head.
     "A hell of a lot of snags, six months before we could even fire up  the
engines on the first ship, a year more likely, though the  conservatives are
saying eighteen months is a safe bet."
     Tolwyn shook his head at the news. There was something ironic about the
war that  he felt an outside observer would find  amusing. The Kilrathi  had
gone through incredible expense and effort to start the secret building of a
new class of carriers, if indeed what flimsy information intel had been able
to dig up so far was true. The  Confederation was  doing  the same thing. It
was  not  so much a  super carrier  along the  lines  of suspected  Kilrathi
design,  but  more  a Stealth,  heavily  armored  battlewagon with  upgraded
shielding that was proof  against  medium-yield antimatter  warheads.  There
were rumors as well of a  super weapon to be  carried on the  new  ship, but
that was an even darker secret. They  were still a dream, however, and would
have no  impact on this war, hidden like the Kilrathi construction yard,  as
far as possible from the battle front.
     "Any word yet from Tarawa?"
     Banbridge shook his head.
     "Silent,  though forward listening posts have picked up orders  pulling
several cruisers off from patrol on the frontier to head back in towards the
sector Tarawa and Normandy are operating in. It might be a coincidence."
     "I don't believe in coincidence, the Cats must be on to something."
     "That's what I thought as well."
     "Wish I was back out there with them," Tolwyn whispered.
     "Bondarevsky's a good man. If he's in a scrape he'll figure away out."
     Geoff nodded in agreement. Jason had become  like  the son he had lost.
If ъeggie had not been killed twenty years ago he'd even be Jason's age.
     "When do you want me to go back out to Landreich?"
     "The Chief of  Staff wants to hear  a full briefing  from  you tomorrow
morning," Banbridge paused to look over at his computer screen.
     "Speaking  of the old  man, there's a staff meeting in ten minutes. Why
don't you stay here, I'll have my  aide get a meal into you, and for heavens
sake, Geoff, let's see if we can get you some better clothes."
     Tolwyn nodded in agreement.  He  felt absolutely ridiculous wearing the
coveralls of a civilian maintenance worker,  and the  beard he had  grown on
the way back from Tarawa  was itchy  as all hell. It was a convenient enough
cover  for  him  to  slip  through  the  underground  parking  lot  of fleet
headquarters. Once  he was inside, a  Marine security team  had  ushered him
down a private corridor the rest of the way to Banbridge's private quarters.
He rubbed his chin.
     "Wish I could shave this off."
     "You do look kind of ridiculous, Geoff."
     Banbridge stood up and grabbed his attachщ case.
     "What's the meeting about?"
     "Always curious, aren't you?"
     Tolwyn smiled. "Working with Vance kind of rubs off on you."
     "That damn Kilrathi ambassador asked for a  meeting  with the Chiefs of
Staff  and  some of  our fleet  admirals.  He's  screaming over  a  list  of
grievances about border  violations by military  patrols, and incidents from
the Landreich are top on the list. So just lay low here, there's bound to be
some press trying to sneak around, and if they ever saw you, there'd be hell
to pay."
     Geoff  shook  hands with  his  old  academy  instructor  and  smiled as
Banbridge headed out the door.
     Banbridge paused and looked back at Geoff.
     "You've done damn good, son; I'm proud of you," and then he was gone.
     The aide  came  in a minute  later and  offered to  lay out  some fresh
clothes while Geoff took a shower, an offer he eagerly agreed to after weeks
in space, surviving the usual water rationing of one minute  showers. As  he
walked  past the  small bedroom  he  saw Kevin stretched out  on top  of the
sheets, fast asleep.
     "Didn't even bother  to eat, sir," the steward whispered. "He stretched
out and was asleep like a baby inside of a minute."
     "It's been a tough time. Geoff said quietly.
     Closing the door of the bathroom he peeled off the grungy coveralls and
stepped into the hot stream of water.
     He didn't so much hear  it as feel it, a vibration slamming through the
building.  He  turned  the shower off and from  a  far-off distance  heard a
klaxon. Not bothering to towel off he pulled his coveralls on and opened the
door. Banbridge's aide was standing alert  by the  entry into the  admiral's
quarters and to Geoff's surprise had  a  laser  pistol up and at the  ready.
Kevin came out of the bedroom, already up and alert and Geoff could see that
the klaxon had triggered him into thinking that there was a scramble alert.
     "Stay where you are, sirs," the  steward snapped, holding his free hand
back for them to remain still. "Something's going on."
     Geoff  felt defenseless,  dressed  in  nothing  more  than oil  stained
coveralls. He knew the aide, besides being Banbridge's personal steward, was
also a highly trained Marine commando. He'd  have to leave things up to him.
The  aide  quietly spoke into  a  small  lapel  mike,  receiving orders  and
information back through a tiny earphone.
     What seemed  to be an  eternity passed  and then he saw the man visibly
pale, right hand clenching tight around the pistol grip.
     The aide looked back at Geoff.
     "Sir. Admiral Banbridge, the Chief of Staff, and we don't know how many
other officers are dead. The entire top floor of the building has been blown
apart."
     "Merciful God," Geoff whispered, bowing his head.
     "I'm going to keep you secure right here,  sir. We have had an incident
and we don't know what the hell is going on yet."
     An incident, Geoff  thought. Most of the fleet's top  command were most
likely dead and it's called an incident.

     "Hunter, break off, break off!"
     Ian switched off his visual and audio back to Bannockburn. The order to
abandon  Paladin  was  simply  too  hard to  stomach. The wave  of  Kilrathi
fighters was now less  than  five thousand  clicks  off and closing in fast,
their maneuvering scoops popped wide open to break after the  high speed run
in from the cruiser that had  launched them. There was a slim chance that he
might be able to pop off the two fighters on the forward  left edge of their
sweep, thereby punching a hole through for Paladin to follow.
     He could imagine that Paladin was swearing a blue streak at the moment,
but to hell with him if he didn't want to be saved.
     Ian  turned in towards  the approaching  fighters, toggled up  his  IFF
missiles and dumped them off in a long range spread to  stir things  up. The
missiles leaped  forward  and several of the  approaching  Kilrathi fighters
pulled into sharp turns. As soon as the  tail of the nearest one was exposed
Hunter  fired  off an  infrared  tracker  which instantly  locked on  to the
fighter's engines which were glowing white hot from the high speed approach.
The missile slammed up the exhaust nozzle of the fighter and detonated.
     First kill of the new war, he thought grimly.
     Within seconds the fight was on. several Dralthi fighters  peeling  off
to swing  in on  Hunter,  while the forward edge of  the strike, six Grikath
fighters, pushed straight on towards Bannockburn. Paladin let loose with his
remaining salvo of flechettes and  then toggled  off a battery of  IFFs from
his gatling mount missile launcher. Space was a mad confusion of  explosions
and Ian pulled a tight turn to try and shake off an  incoming infra tracker,
firing off  a  flare, which the  missile  went  for,  detonating silently  a
kilometer behind him.
     A Grikath  shot  directly across his starboard bow and with a perfectly
timed  deflection Ian nailed him solidly amidships  and turned inside of the
Cat,  firing three more rapid mass driver rounds into the Grikath which blew
apart.
     He  spared  a  quick  glance at his tactical  display and saw that  the
Kilrathi cruisers were spread out into  an open sweep, coming up behind  the
wave of fighters in case there was anything still to be finished off. Behind
them more than a dozen patrol  craft and a light frigate were coming in as a
second wave, while  from  the other  direction half a dozen patrol corvettes
were closing,  pushing  Bannockburn into the  trap.  A wave of  fast  moving
fighters was moving ahead, above, and below to close the trap.
     With  a sickening finality he realized the futility of the  gesture  he
had just offered. The game was up. He switched back on to Paladin's channel.
     "Not looking good, buddy."
     "Hunter, break free, make the run, I'll provide support."
     "Like hell, they're on me, now run for it and get that damn information
out, otherwise this whole thing is useless."
     "Hunter, damn it, get the hell . . ."
     "I think its the other way  around, buddy, I'll cover you, now  run for
it. When  you get to  the Vacuum Breathers buddy, lift  the first round  for
me."
     "Hunter!"
     He  punched ahead of Bannockburn, moving to break up the forward screen
so Paladin could slip through
     A spread of half a dozen missiles leaped forward from the next Kilrathi
attack group, the new  IFF and radar trackers. Ian swallowed  hard and keyed
up his own transponder to draw the missiles in.
     The warbling tone in Ian's head set clicked to a steady hum, increasing
in  pitch.  The incoming  were all locked on to his ship. He pulled up hard,
leading the missiles away from Bannockburn.
     "Pop out, Ian!"  Paladin shouted, and  then there was  another voice on
the radio.
     "Green two, Green two, this is Green one, strike on the way."
     Ian started to reach down  to  pull the ejector  D ring when  he saw  a
fighter lining up to hit Bannockburn from above.
     He dropped the ring, lined up  on  the target and toggled  off the  one
missile strapped beneath his fighter.  Even as  it streaked away he knew the
game had  finally caught up with him at last.  He bit down hard on his cigar
and closed his eyes.
     Six Kilrathi IFF's impacted across the stern of  Ian  Hunter St. John's
Ferret.

     Jason leaned  over  the  tactical  display  on the screen, watching  as
Normandy launched her fighters. Already one of the cruisers was turning back
around as he cleared the north pole of  the planet at an  altitude  of three
hundred  clicks,  just  barely skimming above  the  edge of  the atmosphere,
accelerating fast.
     If only  I  had a full  bay of fighters, he cursed silently, we'd swamp
them under. Normandy had already launched her full load of fighters, twenty,
and Doomsday along with two other pilots had taken  out  the remaining three
fighters in  his own bay. He could already sense that this was going to he a
ship-to-ship action and he didn't  relish the idea of facing  a cruiser head
on with a light escort carrier.
     "Knew you wouldn't leave me in the lurch, laddie."
     Paladin's wavery image appeared on the screen.
     "You certainly brought along enough company, Paladin."
     "Aye, that I did. Get ready for a coded burst, unscramble it and you'll
see why."
     Seconds  later the signal  came through  and  Jason turned to watch his
communications officer decode it.  He started to see the holo  read out  and
turned to one of his watch officers.
     "Get down that corridor fast and tell those gorillas  guarding the door
to send Vance up here on the double!"
     "Fighters are breaking  off from attack on  Paladin, returning to cover
cruiser," the combat information officer announced, looking back at Jason.
     They  must have detected the burst signal and  realized we're  carrying
the football now, Jason thought.
     "I already  got  it on our system," Vance said, coming on to the bridge
and Jason realized that  with the  gear down  in the fighter bay Vance would
already know.
     "Look  at the size of those damn ships," Jason whispered, and he looked
back at Vance who was intently studying the screen.
     "Should we send the signal?" Vance asked.
     Jason looked back at the holo. Their cover was fully blown now. He knew
that was the end  result the moment he made the decision to come up and save
Paladin. He knew as well that if Paladin had come back empty-handed he would
be  in  very hot  water  for  having blown the mission cover just  to save a
friend. But then again it was extremely difficult to argue with success, and
his decision would now be viewed as the right move  and the personal reasons
for Paladin and Ian forgotten.
     The Kilrathi already had  a visual lock  on  his  ship.  Within seconds
they'd known the type and model and  would  quickly figure out it was Tarawa
with Normandy right  alongside.  The  antenna  array atop his  carrier would
definitely tip  them off as well as to the mission  of his ship. If  not for
the information they had,  it would be a diplomatic explosion. There  was no
sense  in  giving  the  Kilrathi  the  first  jump  on  that front.  If  the
information was  released  after the Kilrathi started  screaming  about  the
border violation the  information might be dismissed  as an attempt to cover
up.
     "Send it out now," Jason said.
     "Good decision, son," Vance said with a grin and he turned back towards
the flight deck. A  minute later Jason noticed the momentary flicker in  the
ship's- battle lighting as  the translight burst signal went out, repeated a
minute later by a second burst for good measure.
     All  three cruisers had now come about and were closing in, the ranging
indicator  marking down the  rapid  drop in  range. The  forward  spread  of
Normandy's fighters closed with  the  Kilrathi  fighters launched  from  the
cruiser and the fight was on. The edge on skill  was  clearly on the side of
the colonial and ex-fleet  pilots, deployed out to take on the heavy cruiser
and its lighter escort.
     One of the cruisers, however, pushed on through and Jason felt the cold
sweat start to streak down his back as he sat on the bridge, waiting for the
Kilrathi cruiser batteries to open up. He  had never fought a  carrier  in a
head  to head engagement  and he longed for a  joystick and throttle, rather
than the cumbersome relaying of orders.
     The first volley of missiles  spread  out  from the lead cruiser,  even
while  the second one in  line  exploded  from the  direct  hit of a torpedo
spread from a Broadsword.
     We've  got four  incoming  warheads,"  the  combat  information  center
officer announced, "blowing chaff, flares, and radar noise makers."
     "All weapons fire," Jason announced, struggling to keep his voice calm.
     Mass  driver cannon  mounted forward went  into  action,  a  volley  of
torpedoes leaping out from  the forward launch tubes.  The range was below a
hundred kilometers and closing.
     "Helm ten degrees  to port, fifty  degrees down."  He started a curving
turn downwards and then countered  the order,  bringing his carrier straight
back up towards the underside of the rear cruiser.
     "Torpedo attack  diverting," combat  information announced,  "regaining
lock on Normandy."
     Several Kilrathi fighters raced across his  bow, dropping missiles, the
weapons impacting on the forward shield.
     "Normandy's in trouble!"
     Jason  turned  to  look back at his  communications  officer  and  then
toggled over to a damage display of his sister ship.
     A  torpedo from the first  spread impacted on his  sister  ship's  bow.
Forward  shielding  was  gone.  Two  colonial fighters on  close  in  escort
maneuvered  and rammed  two of the next spread of  torpedoes coming out from
the Kilrathi cruiser while Normandy fired a spread in return.
     The torpedoes crossed each other's paths and seconds later Normandy and
the  enemy  cruiser  fireballed, the two ships so close  that  the explosion
merged into one vast expanding cloud of white hot flame.
     A colonial  fighter  came  through the wreckage, spinning  wildly.  The
pilot, however,  was still  able to  maintain some control and  he aimed his
craft straight in at the cruiser in front of Jason. Punching on afterburners
the modified Ferret slammed straight into the Kilrathi bridge.
     "Damn,"  Jason whispered. Within  s