Wing Commander #07 False Color by William Forstchen (best books to read in life .txt) 📕

were so close! But we cannot even carry out the original mission now. The Terrans have too big a lead. The scoutship will be out of our reach in a few more minutes, and then they will jump." He paused. "And Ragark will have my throat."

On the monitor, they could see the slow but inexorable approach of the ship that looked like a transport, carried fighters like a carrier, but acted now like a deliberate sacrifice on its way to the altar. Bow on and closing, it was plain that it intended to ram, and the Kilrathi carrier's vector was such that it would take a minor miracle to outmaneuver the humans.

As Julgar watched, the cruiser Dravnor hammered the Terran ship. Explosions erupted along the vessel's ventral surface, and a few of the kits in the flag bridge raised a victory chant. The Terran carrier was coming apart . . .

Too late.

"We have them!" Julgar's aide shouted.

'Wait," was Julgar's low-voiced reply.

Out of the expanding fireball, eights of fragments, each the size of a heavy fighter or larger, were whirling outward. Most retained enough of their original vector to remain on a collision course with the Kilrathi ship.

The chants had not died down when the first of those chunks of twisted metal slammed into the Klarran. The kinetic energy from the Terran ship's terminal velocity was enough to overwhelm the shields, and as each

subsequent piece hit home Klarran shuddered again and again, as if a hand of the God of the Running Death had reached out to shake the carrier like a child's toy.

Bridge, Guild Scoutship Highwayman Deep Space, Hellhole System 0833 hours (CST)

The bridge had been hulled several times, and the air was gone. Banfeld had his helmet on and his suit fully sealed, but it had taken time. He could feel the blood trickling from his ears and nose, and his throat had been burned raw by decompression. It was an effort to breathe. He suspected lung damage, but he wouldn't know for sure unless he reached a doctor.

Outside, an FRLN Hornet had latched on to the scout and taken her under tow, while two others flew escort in tight formation. Somehow the computer and the sensor imaging system were still on-line, though precious little beyond that was working on the bridge. Highwayman's power was nearly exhausted, her fusion plant down, her engines and weapons as useless as the failed stealth system. The internal gravities were out, too, and bodies and wreckage floated weightless in the bridge. He spotted Jonas Hart among them, but he couldn't recognize any of the other dead from where he was.

The ship's hull was twisted and shattered in a dozen places. She would never again fare among the stars, on Guild business or any other.

Banfeld pulled himself back into his seat awkwardly, favoring an arm that was probably broken. He strapped himself down one-handed and stabbed at the controls for the sensor systems.

On the monitor, an image of the Bonadventure sprang into focus. Tanaka had done as he'd said, steered her right down the Kilrathi carrier's throat. As Banfeld watched she started coming apart, the pieces left from the multiple explosion ripping into the upper half of the Cat ship.

"My poor, poor Guildsmen," Banfeld croaked. "What have I brought you to?"

The emotions battling inside him proved too much, and he slipped into the black pool of unconsciousness.

Raptor 500, VF-84 "Liberators" Jump Point Six, Hellhole System 0834 hours (CST)

"That's our cue! Break it off and head for home!" Tolwyn shouted the order as he peeled off, dodging a piece of the wreckage of the Guild ship. Behind him, the lead Kilrathi carrier was trailing atmosphere, a good chunk of her superstructure smashed by repeated hits from the remains of the Bonadventure. A massive repair effort would probably get her back in service in a few months, but she was of no use as a fighting ship for now.

Of course, that left a second carrier and an assortment of cruisers, destroyers, escorts, and fighters, but Tolwyn knew he had a few minutes to regroup before the Kilrathi battle lust took over and they organized their pursuit. And meantime the damage to the carrier would certainly keep a few of the Cat ships occupied.

The Liberators had done all they could. Whether or not it would prove to be enough remained to be seen.

Combat Information Center, FRLS Independence Deep Space, Hellhole System 0835 hours (CST)

"The battle group has reformed around us, Captain. And the Flight Wing has broken off the action. They're being pursued."

Galbraith looked across at Roth, biting his lip. They had watched the pirate carrier's last act, and knew the Kilrathi had taken serious damage to one of their carriers. But their task force still outnumbered the Independence battle group in fighting ships, and their two carrier wings, though they'd suffered heavily in the fight with the Liberators, outnumbered his remaining fighters by a wide enough margin to make them a serious threat.

And Tolwyn didn't have enough fighters yet to hold them for long. This time, if they decided to attack the battle group, there was nothing left to slow them down.

"Order the battle group to retire to the jump point," Galbraith said.

"But, Captain . . ." Roth looked stunned.

"Do it!" he snapped.

At that moment, the ship's Tactical Officer spoke up. "Disturbance in Jump Point Two," he said. "Ship coming through from Landreich . . . now."

Out in space, a vessel took form as it dropped out of the hyperrealm. Galbraith was almost afraid to check the tactical readouts. The ship's IFF beacon, hypercasting an exclusive ID signature, registered on the monitor almost immediately.

"That's Arbroath!" Commander Roth exclaimed, reading the information from her own board.

Arbroath - previously the TCS Saipan, a sister ship of Independence only recent acquired by one of Kruger's purchasing agents. Galbraith remembered his father's acid comments about Max Kruger's latest toy. She has been refitting in Landreich orbit when Independence