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

from Vorghath for the time being. Bring pressure to bear on them so they don't entertain any thoughts of attacking the dreadnought while he remains in dry-dock."

"They couldn't get past the jump point garrison!" That was Akhjer nar Val. If that skeptic was now so confident, perhaps Ragark's cause really was prospering despite the setbacks they had suffered. "How could Terran ships even get into position to threaten the orbital dock, or Vorghath?"

Ragark looked at him. "How did the Terrans destroy Kilrah, with the whole fleet preparing there? How did they get within two light minutes of the orbital dock? Cloaked ships could penetrate our defenses."

"They have no cloaked ships larger than scouts," someone protested. "Certainly no capital ships that could evade detection."

"None that we know of," Ragark corrected. "And the Temblor Bomb was delivered by a mere fighter. No, we must not take chances. We know the strength of Kruger's fleet. We must send a strong enough raiding force against a key world, one that will guarantee that they will have to commit their full force to defending against us. In the meantime, we maintain a strong garrison here . . . just to be sure. If we stalk the prey correctly, they will never have a chance to strike at Vorghath before he is ready to sail again. And once we reach that point, the two strike fleets can converge on Landreich and end this farce once and for all." It sounds like an excellent plan, my Lord," Jhorrad said. His good eye was shining with anticipation. "When will the strike force depart?"

"We will take time to put the operation together," Ragark replied. "And to guard the system here in case Kruger attempts an immediate sortie, though I think that is unlikely. Say two eight-days to assemble our forces. After that . . . we strike!"

"I wish I was coming with you, my Lord," Jhorrad told him.

"Your part will come soon enough," Ragark assured him. "And your name will be remembered long after high-born fools like Thrakhath and that scum Ghadhark have been forgotten."

CHAPTER 17

"The true leader offers his Warriors in sacrifice only when there is no alternative; the true Warrior offers himself in sacrifice in the knowledge that only thus will the battle be won"

from the Seventh Codex12:16:07

Shuttle Mjollnir Echo Orbiting Nargrast, Vaku System 1622 hours (CST), 2671.033

The Kilrathi-made shuttle hung in space, dwarfed alongside the bulk of the carrier now called Mjollnir. From the cockpit, Lieutenant Aengus Harper and his Wing Commander, Captain Bondarevsky, studied the repairs to the outside of the port side flight deck, recording everything on video and computer-imaged still pictures. It was painstaking work, but an essential part of the refit, making sure there were no obvious weak spots in the refurbished hull. So Bondarevsky had assured Harper several times now, though Harper suspected his commanding officer was growing as weary of this "essential duty" as he was. Still, as the wing commander had pointed out earlier, it was better to invest the time and effort now that to discover they'd overlooked something crucial when an unlucky hit opened up the hull in the middle of a battle.

Harper quite frankly couldn't see any spot that didn't look weak. The hurry-up repair job on the port side flight deck had definitely stressed speed over all else, and the haste showed in rough patches and crude welding jobs. He hoped the computer's structural analysis would belie the look of the work, and yield results within acceptable limits.

"Section one-twenty-five," Bondarevsky said, sounding tired. He pressed a button on the co-pilot's console. "Recorded. That's the last of them, Lieutenant."

"Thank God and all the Saints for that, sir," Harper said with a grin. "Shall I be taking her back to the barn, then?"

"Take the scenic route," Bondarevsky said. "I want to get a better look at the old girl . . . a wider view, something with fewer rivets and weld marks."

"Aye, sir, that would be a big improvement." His hands danced over the shuttle controls. "Do you think the work will pass the inspection?"

Bondarevsky let out a sigh. "God, I hope so." He paused. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it will. At least it'll do for routine ops for a while, until we have time to do a better job on her. Richards told me this morning that it's likely we'll still be overhauling her six months from now . . . unless Ragark tries something sooner."

"Six more months of this, sir?" Harper made a face. "I think I'd rather have Ragark charging across the border with guns blazing."

"Be careful what you wish for," Bondarevsky told him. Tact is, we need all the refit time we can get. I never thought we'd get this far, Aengus, but we still have a long way to go before this old lady can stand toe-to-toe with hostiles in a real fight."

As the shuttle lifted slowly away from the carrier's baffle-scarred hull, Harper remained silent, mulling over the wing commander's words. After a truly Herculean effort by the entire crew, Mjollnir was more or less operational. She had powered up her maneuvering drives a few days earlier and lifted clear of her long elliptical orbit around the brown dwarf, exchanging it for a high planetary orbit over Nargrast. The rest of the battle group occupied various similar orbits, spread out now to cover possible approach vectors and give the carrier warning in case of further unfriendly visits to the system. Both flight decks and all of the remaining planes were available now, and Bondarevsky had been holding daily training exercises in simulators and out in space to familiarize the pilots assigned to the Kilrathi squadrons with their planes, and to get the entire Black Cats wing used to working together.

That had meant more than just exercising the fighter squadrons, too. The support craft—electronic warfare birds, resupply boats, command and control planes had all been put through their