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

but watch as Ragark's fighters swept in and hammered the light cruiser. They had thrown up a heavy jamming field around her, too, so they couldn't even raise Forbes or Richards to speak to the men one last time.

It came to an end far more quickly than Bondarevsky's fight with the two Kilrathi cruisers had. One moment Xenophon was still alive, lashing out at any craft impudent enough to approach too close. The next minute . . . nothing. The ship was just gone.

And with it, one of Tolwyn's best friends. Admiral Vance Richards had been a good man, for all his faults, and Tolwyn would always remember him as a man of principle and honor. He had a flash memory of before the war, when they were both newly minted young gentlemen and together they had gone on their first mission.

"God's speed, Vance," he whispered.

He frowned at the tactical display. Ragark had left them with no real options at all. They could run, and be pursued, and sooner or later the Mjollnir would be cornered and destroyed. Or they could try to get through Ragark's lines to jump out, but the punishment they would take would be far too much for Mjollnir to handle. Or they could just go down fighting, and take as many of Ragark's ships with them as they could.

Tolwyn straightened in his chair. There was really only one choice he could make.

Combat Information Center, FRLS Mjollnir Deep Space, Baka Kar System 1527 hours (CST)

The door to CIC slid open soundlessly, and Bondarevsky stepped into the dim-lit command center, every step weighed down by fatigue. It had been a long day . . . and it wasn't over yet.

Tolwyn looked up as he came in. "Good job out there, Jason. A damned good job. Your people did us proud today."

"Thank you, sir. I wish we could have done . . . more." He knew there was no way the flight wing could have helped Richards and the Xenophon, but that didn't make it any easier to accept the old spymaster's death.

Now there was nothing more the flight wing could do, at all. Tolwyn had announced his intention of taking on Ragark's fleet head-on, and Bondarevsky had been ready to lead his fighters out yet again to the attack. But as Tolwyn pointed out there was still an outside chance they might reach the jump point, and if so they couldn't very well stop and take on planes before they made good their escape. The only fighters on board capable of jump were the four surviving Vaktoths, hardly enough to challenge the flight wings of four escort carriers.

So Bondarevsky's pilots would have to ride out the last action aboard Mjollnir, passengers for a change. It was probably just as well, at that. The port side flight deck had been put out of action when a returning bomber had lost control at the last minute on final approach. The damage there wasn't quite as bad as what they'd found when they'd first surveyed her, but Mjollnir's launch and retrieval cycle would be severely hampered until they could get a chance to make fresh repairs.

Bondarevsky almost laughed out loud. It was a fine time to be thinking about future repair jobs. If there was anything left to salvage, the Cats would get it.

"Any word on the others, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Durendal went down fighting," Tolwyn told him. "Collins slipped away, but she's got a pair of destroyers chasing her. How long she can hold out . . . that's anybody's guess."

"Then—"

His next comment was cut off by a call from the sensor station. "More disturbances in the jump point, sir. Multiple targets again . . . My God, sir, they're ours! Landreich ships!"

Kittani was reading off the information from incoming transponder beacons. "That's Independence . . . Magna Carta . . . Arbroath. The whole carrier fleet! Themistocles ."

"They're right in the middle of the Cat fleet," Clancy said in hushed tones. "I hope to God they can get clear."

"Look at the vectors, Mr. Clancy," Tolwyn said. "They came through the jump point under power. By the time the Cats react they'll be at the edge of weapon's range . . ."

Bondarevsky met his eyes. "My God, it's Kruger. It's got to be Kruger."

Bridge, FRLS Independence Jump Point Three, Baka Kar System 1530 hours (CST)

Max Kruger had the command chair, and it felt good. He'd been forced to relieve Galbraith of duty after the politician's son had tried to resist the order to get under way for Vordran, and it seemed safest to take command himself rather than entrust it to any of Galbraith's officers. Actually, most of them seemed happy to follow his lead, especially Commander Roth.

They had reached the Vordran belt in time to discover two of Mjollnir's planes, a Zartoth and a Kofar. Cynthia Hall, the Zartoth pilot, had reported another electronic warfare plane had been destroyed by a Kilrathi patrol, and the Cats had gone through the jump point. Ragark had taken a lead of over an hour, but thanks to the delaying tactics the two pilots had executed so successfully it hadn't been closer to six hours.

Kruger studied the tactical board and nodded his satisfaction. Their initial velocity hadn't been all that high. They had only gone about ten percent over the margins specified in most of the safety handbooks. But it had been enough to allow them to pass through the Kilrathi ships stationed around the jump point, despite the disorientation of jumpshock, before the Cats could react and open fire. Kruger hadn't known what to expect on this side of the hyperrealm, but he'd tried to be prepared for every contingency. It had paid off.

His intercom lit up to reveal Kevin Tolwyn's face, still bleary-eyed from jumpshock. "Place is lousy with Cats, Mr. President. You want us to launch and see what we can do with 'em?"

Kruger shook his head. "Not at the moment,