ng to
fire, racing ahead to smash a cruiser  size liner, a  dozen fighters tearing
into the defenseless ship until it split apart. And  each  fighter that took
thirty  seconds to line up and fire on  a useless ship was  one less fighter
engaged in the real fight, while the hidden weapon drew even closer.

     "My lord, we might have a tactical analysis on what they are doing."
     Thrakhath looked over at his tactical officer.
     Even as  the officer started to offer his analysis the truth of what he
was saying sunk in.
     All fighters strike them now! Strike them now. Order all carriers  into
full evasive!"

     "Here  we  go!  All  ships pick  your targets. If  you can't  get to  a
carrier, nail a cruiser. Charge!"
     General  Duke Grecko  leaned forward,  looking over the shoulder of his
assault craft  pilot. A recorded  charge  blared on the assault craft's loud
speaker and Grecko grinned with delight.
     Behind him, in the aft personnel bay, a hundred assault troops cheered,
thumping the butts of their laser rifles on the floor of the ship.
     Space  around  him was  pure chaos.  Hundreds of Kilrathi fighters were
swarming in, escort ships moving  to  intersect the  attack. Dozens of ships
and assault craft were vaporizing every  second in the slaughter, so that he
thought for  an instant that his plan was exactly what  Geoff, and for  that
matter everyone else from the President on down, had declared it to be: pure
suicide.
     The only  advantage he could now see in being  head of the Joint Chiefs
of Staff, was that he didn't have to convince anyone Ч he simply had to give
the order, and then go.
     A  civilian liner twisted  in front of  him, blocking the rush of three
incoming Dralthi, diverting their shots. His own pilot dived under the liner
as it exploded and then lined back up on their target.
     "The carrier, go for the carrier!"
     "We'll never make it. Let's nail the destroyer to port!"
     "Damn it, son, I'm the general here. Anything less than a carrier is an
insult, now move it!"

     Kevin weaved his way through the melee, moving up to protect an assault
wave of twenty Marine landing craft, a full brigade of troops packed inside.
They were breaking through.
     A  Kilrathi destroyer was moving in towards  the group and he saw three
of the  landing  craft turn towards the destroyer. The  destroyers defensive
batteries nailed two. The third closed  in,  letting  loose with  its ground
bombardment armaments which leaped across space, exploding across the bow of
the enemy ship. The rounds  were designed for  area suppression,  not shield
and  hull  penetration, but they nevertheless blinded the ship. The  landing
craft  swung across the top side of the destroyer,  matching speed and  then
slammed down on its main cargo hatch. Explosive shape charges mounted to the
bottom of the landing craft detonated, blowing the destroyer's  main  access
hatch open.
     The  landing  craft   edged  forward,  gaining  magnetic  lock  on  the
destroyer's hull.  No matter  what  the ship now did as evasive, the  Marine
assault craft was glued to its side like a lamprey eel on the side of a fish
Ч and it was just as deadly.
     The  back  hatch of  the  landing craft  blew open  and assault  troops
streamed  out,  wearing  magnetic-soled shoes  and  swarmed in  through  the
ruptured cargo door, firing ъPGs, miniguns, and assault recoilless flechette
launchers.
     Kevin shot past the destroyer.
     The damn plan just might work!
     The seventeen assault  ships ahead  pressed in,  Kevin now  riding herd
above them. He  tried  to  ignore  everything  else:  the  hundreds of ships
fighting and  dying around him, the total chaos, as all tactical  formations
were  lost.  Kilrathi  fighters, now fully  committed  to  this  new threat,
swarmed in,  space  so thick  with  them  that  he  witnessed half  a  dozen
collisions between turning  fighters,  their  own ships,  and  Confederation
craft.
     Five of the Marine  ships disappeared a full  battalion of five hundred
men winking out of  existence. In any  other situation their loss would have
been viewed as a disaster. Here,  with the final desperate defense of Earth,
it was the mere incident of a second's time. Three Jalthi turned  in  on the
group, ignoring Kevin. He slashed two out of existence, while the third took
out  three  landing  craft  and  then broke  hard  down  and  to  the  left,
disappearing.
     The Marine craft pressed  on in, dodging past a lumbering cruiser, with
the lead landing craft pushing up and over.
     "Come  on,  take it,  just  take  it before  you're all  killed," Kevin
thought, wanting to scream at the assault unit's commander. The cruiser fell
astern, taking out three more  craft as  they shot past,  with a mass driver
burst shutting down his own aft shields and slicing deep into his armor. Six
craft were left and then  he saw  the  target straight ahead as he looked up
after dispatching yet another fighter Ч  a Kilrathi heavy carrier turning in
evasive.
     The carrier, with a mix of twenty civilian and assault ships behind it,
was going through a slow, ponderous turn, its aft, top, and bottom batteries
all engaged, slaughtering their  pursuers. Within seconds  the twenty  ships
were gone.
     They were racing straight in on  the  carrier.  The  six craft  he  was
escorting  opened   fire,   sixty  area   suppression  bombardment  missiles
blanketing the ship's bow.
     "Fighter following me, we're going for their topside forward bay, match
speed and give us suppressive!"
     Startled,  Kevin  looked  at  his comm screen. It was Duke Grecko  on a
laser link line.
     The order was insane and yet he followed it. He leaped ahead of the six
landing craft,  even as two  more of them  exploded, then slammed in reverse
thrusters, coming to a dead stop fifty meters in front of the launch bay.
     Kevin toggled through every weapon he still had, dumping out IFFs, dumb
fire and  then mass  drivers.  The spread exploded  across the airlock  bay,
which  shimmered and  glowed  red, part  of  the concentrated  blast kicking
through the shielding, blowing apart a mass driver turret above the bay. Two
landing craft came  streaking past and headed  in. An  explosion rocked  his
ship, spinning  it  over in a cartwheeling pivot away from  the  carrier.  A
quick scan of his instruments told him the worst and he reached down between
his legs, grabbed hold of the ejector ring, and pulled.

     "Switch IFF transponders now!" Grecko roared.
     The pilot  flipped the switch to the preprogrammed Kilrathi IFF,  which
intelligence claimed would get them through the airlock if they activated it
at  the  last second before the  deck  officer could toggle the channel to a
different frequency.
     He closed his eyes as they hit the field. If intelligence  was off, the
landing craft  would  not be able to handle  the head-on collision and would
vaporize on the shield.
     An  explosion  rocked  the ship and he was slammed forward by a jarring
blow. He opened his eyes. They were skidding  down  the length of the flight
deck, the Kilrathi launch crew scattering in every direction.
     "Blow rear hatch!"
     The rear hatch swung open  even  as the landing craft continued to skid
down the deck in a shower of sparks.
     Duke, unbuckled  from his jump seat, stood up clenching a laser gun and
started for the rear.
     "Let's kick ass!" he roared
     The Marines closest to the hatch were already up, leaping out the door,
rolling  on  the deck coming  up  and firing. Grecko  hit the  back edge and
jumped, deliberately rolling on to  his new artificial arm which could  take
the blow better. Gaining  his feet  he  nailed a furball pilot coming at him
with a drawn pistol, cutting him in half, then dropped a ground  crew coming
out from under a Krant.
     The  landing  craft skidded  to a  stop and Duke  raced  towards it. He
looked  back at  his  other  landing  craft.  It was  on its side,  burning,
survivors struggling out from the wreckage.
     "Get that mine out  now! First  platoon with me on  the advance. Second
platoon knock out their launch bridge  and secure a perimeter, then help any
survivors from the other landing craft. Third platoon escort the demolitions
team."
     Duke looked around, trying to figure out where to go next. Intelligence
had never said  anything  about  the internal layout of  the  ship. But then
again, what  the hell did intelligence know about these damn  ships  anyhow,
other  than that they were big? The only plan they had was to board and then
get as deep into the ship as possible.
     He  saw an oversized door. Hell, they were all oversized given the size
of the Cats. Flight deck personnel were fleeing through it and it looked  as
good as any.
     "First platoon, let's go!"
     He  raced  for the door, firing as  he  advanced,  dropping Cats, their
bodies piled  up at the entryway.  He hit the corridor, started  to step in,
and then ducked back from a flurry of laser shots. Two of his Marines leaned
in,  firing  a  suppressive  spray  while  a  third  held up a  minigun. The
explosive  roar of the gun drowned out all other sound, filling the corridor
with fire,  smoke,  and a  hundred  rounds a second. Another  Marine threw a
concussion grenade in; it detonated and  they waded through.  Each door that
they passed was kicked open and a grenade dropped in.
     They reached  the end of  the corridor which broke into an intersection
of four hallways radiating outward.
     "We have to get down, damn it, into the guts of the ship!"
     He  sent sections running up each  of  the corridors and thirty seconds
later a runner came back.
     "Access hatch to lower levels, sir, this way."
     "First  section, first squad, secure this  point. Get the  demo team up
here and move them in after us."
     He looked back at the rest of his team.
     "I'm getting too old for this crap," he grinned. "Come on, let's go!"

     "My lord, they've boarded the ship through the topside launch bay!"
     Stunned, Prince Thrakhath looked over at the ship security officer.
     It was madness, absolute madness. And brilliant. Why could he have  not
seen that in desperation this would be a final tactic?
     "How many Imperial Marine guards are on board?"
     "A  security  detachment  of  fifty, my  lord,  not  counting  your own
security squad."
     "Where are they heading?"
     The security  chief toggled through a  schematic of the ship and traced
out a line.
     "They're  moving  down  into  the  second  level already.  ъeports  are
sketchy."
     "They're  going to  set mines and blow them," Thrakhath said coldly and
he looked over at his damage control officer.
     "What can they do?"
     The damage control officer looked at him wide-eyed.
     "All our calculations of damage containment were  based  upon  external
torpedo and missile  strikes.  Our armor is layered, through several sectors
of the ship,  strongest  outside,  with  two  internal belts. Into the  core
there's no armor at all, my lord."
     He paused.
     "If they blow a demolition charge in the middle  of the ship, the armor
will actually act to contain it, making the damage far  worse." He swallowed
hard. "It'll destroy the ship, my lord."
     Prince  Thrakhath  roared  with anger,  slamming  his fist  down  on  a
console.
     "Get everyone who can carry a weapon forward. Block them off!"
     The security chief ran from the bridge.
     "Boarding parties now reported on two  other carriers, my lord, as well
as twenty-nine other ships."
     "And the enemy fleet?"
     "Still holding  position, my lord.  Two  of  their  carriers have  been
destroyed, all the others damaged."
     "Press the attack press it in!"
     Prince Thrakhath looked back up at  the main tactical display. Hundreds
of  his  fighters were now circling around his  carriers, nearly all  of the
enemy strike waves destroyed. There was nothing  for them to go after, their
armaments expended in the mad shooting match.
     "Order  all  on  defensive  to  prepare  for  second  strike  on  enemy
carriers."
     The combat commander looked up.
     "Their armaments have nearly all been expended, my lord."
     Prince Thrakhath  growled  angrily. If  he landed  them and any  of the
carriers were destroyed by the boarders he'd lose his pilots.
     "Order the fighters to hold until boarders  are disposed off, then land
and rearm."
     He looked up at the internal security display  and  saw  a  white  line
tracing the enemy attack into the second level of the ship.
     "I'm going to the forward launch bay," he announced coldly. "The attack
to finish their fleet I'm personally leading
     He started off the bridge and then paused.
     "Order the cruisers to break through and finish Earth now!"

     In anguish Geoff Tolwyn watched the flickering two dimensional image on
the tactical display. All  holo  displays were  now off line  as was primary
shielding  jump engines, and  port launch deck. Concordia  had survived  two
more torpedo  hits  and  was  crippled, barely able  to  make twenty percent
speed.
     The offensive strike waves had simply disappeared into the heart of the
enemy fleet.  He  knew  some  successes  were  made,  with more than a dozen
frigates, destroyers and cruisers gone. But the carriers  were still intact.
Whether any of  the boarding parties had even  gotten into the  heart of the
fleet was merely a guess at this point. The computers handling the  hundreds
of comm channels was down, as was burst signal link to Earth.
     They had fought the enemy offensive  strike to a stand-still. Not fifty
of the enemy fighters out of the four hundred that had come in had survived.
Two  more  of his  carriers were  gone,  the  surviving three  damaged, with
Lexington threatening  to blow  from  internal fires  Ч and there were still
close to a thousand enemy fighters left along with a hundred escort ships.
     But what  was worse,  far worse,  was the cruiser squadron that  at the
opening of the action had flanked far out  to port by more than five million
clicks and was now plunging straight in towards Earth, scoops closed  and up
to flank  speed. Not even his fastest ships  could close with them now.  The
light picket line  of  a cruiser  section,  Earth orbital  defenses and moon
ground based defenses and a handful of  obsolete frigates would have to stop
them.  It had been assumed that at least  one section of enemy ships or more
would go for a straight  breakthrough under the screen of the fleet-to-fleet
action. Earth was on its own now.
     He thought  for a moment of a distant  ancestor  of long ago, who, when
contemplating the invasion and destruction  of  England, announced that even
if England fell, the Empire, and with it the fleet, would still continue the
fight.
     England. No, he didn't want to think of that now.
     "Get me Polowski on laser link."
     The image flickered on the screen.
     "Mike, they're going to come in to finish us off. We still need to keep
our carriers  alive. I want you to close  and see what you can  do to  knock
them off balance."
     "What I've  been waiting  to hear," Mike  replied,  his  voice sounding
distant and strained.
     "Take care, and God's speed to you, Mike."
     Mike did not  even reply. Seconds later Destroyer Squadron Three leaped
forward into the attack.

     Duke  Grecko,  his good  arm  shattered by a blast  from a grenade, sat
against a bulkhead wall. A lone runner came back from the point squad.
     "The bastards are insane up there. At  least a hundred of  them charged
when we hit the next deck. It was hand to hand."
     The runner was panting hard.
     "Your platoon?"
     "Finished, sir," and  she paused  "I  got out  because Lieutenant Flory
sent me back just before they overran us."
     "It's all right, Marine. How long before they get here?"
     "I lasered the door shut, sir. Not more than a minute or two."
     Duke  brought his  laser  up  with his  artificial arm at the  sound of
running. From around a  corner a Marine  appeared, gun  down  low,  ready to
fire, and relaxed  at  the sight of Grecko. He looked back  and waved on his
unit and came up to Grecko.
     "Demo team reporting, sir. How's it up ahead?"
     "As far as we're getting son."
     "Only three levels down, sir. Can't we get one more?"
     Duke looked at the young woman who had been on point.
     She shook her head
     "Then it's right here, son,"  and as he spoke the survivors of the demo
team  and  the  platoon  escorting  them  came  up,  pushing a  steel crate,
maneuvering it with null gravity handles.
     "Open her up," Duke said quietly, and the team lowered it down, popping
the lid open.
     Duke looked at the detonator for the thermonuclear warhead.
     "All right, now get the hell out of here. I'm giving you five minutes,"
and he reached over, first arming the device and then turning the timer on.
     The demo team looked at him and grinned
     "Let's go, sir."
     "I'll be along in a minute," Duke said quietly.
     The surviving corporal of the team hesitated.
     "That's my job, sir."
     "I'm not going to play hero, son. Now get the lead out of your butt and
that's an order. I'll be along shortly."
     The  Marine  looked  at  him,  hesitating.  A thin  smile  creased  his
features. He  saluted  and  then turned, heading  back  down  the  corridor,
leading his team with him.
     Duke settled back against the wall and sighed. He simply couldn't admit
that  he was played out and exhausted. Perhaps  the  president was right, he
had never really  recovered  from his wounds taken at Vukar. He should  have
stayed at his desk  rather than running off to  play commando. Since someone
did  have to stay behind, just in case the Cats got through  and knew how to
disarm the weapon, it might as well be him.
     "You all right, sir?"
     He looked up. It was the young woman who had been on point.
     "Marine, get the hell out of here."
     "Like hell, sir," she said quietly. "I'll hold point." He smiled sadly.
     "I  thought you  might  want some company,"  and  her voice was  almost
childlike.
     "What's your name, Marine?"
     "Jenny McCrae, sir."
     "That's  my girl's name too,"  he said, a fatherly tone  evident in his
voice. "She's with the Fourth Marine."
     He  didn't  want  to  think about  that  now.  She was somewhere in the
assault.
     "I  know, sir, we went through boot  together. She was awfully proud of
you."
     "ъeally?  I wondered. I haven't seen her in years. Her mother and I . .
."
     "I know, sir. It's all right though."
     They heard  the  door down  the  corridor burst open a thundering  roar
filling the corridor.  He looked down at the chronometer ticking  off on the
bomb. A minute forty-five to go.  The squad just might have made  it back by
now and gotten off.
     I'll give them a few more seconds.
     The first Cat  turned the corridor and  Jenny dropped  him. And  then a
swarm of them came on. He started to slam his fist down on the firing button
when a  solid  blow  knocked him  off his  feet,  slamming  him  against the
bulkhead. He tried to get back up, barely seeing the Kilrathi Imperial Guard
trooper closing in on him from behind.
     The Cat  fired again, stitching a burst across  his chest and the world
started to go warm and hazy.
     He  looked up and  saw  Jenny  standing  over him.  She looked like his
daughter, or was it his wife, or mother Ч filled with gentleness.
     She looked at him,  a  smile lighting her