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

"Enough to take out the two cruisers, though," Bhaktadil commented. "But not in time to save herself"

"We might find a bunch of her fighters intact in the hanger decks, skipper," Sparks pointed out. "Assuming they were snugged down there when the blast swept through the flight deck, and not already up and ready for an Alpha Strike."

"Maybe so," Bondarevsky said. "But it's too early to say. We'll have to eyeball it in person to know what's possible over there. Looks like it really is a derelict, not bait in some Cat tactician's trap, so I guess we'll be going across. But I don't like the looks of her. That battle damage is pretty damned extensive. It's not going to be easy to put her back in fighting trim again."

"Tell me, Sparks, me darling, is that computer gettin' any trace of the signal Captain Springweather picked up on her visit?" Harper gave a casual grin and a self-deprecating shrug, as if to apologize for bringing the matter up.

"Nothing," she said. "Not even a carrier wave."

"So . . . if there were survivors, they're either dead, rescued, or their transmitter's out," Bhaktadil said. "Radiation in an unshielded ship would play merry hell with her electronics. Probably fried most of the systems within a few minutes of the shields going down. Like taking an E MP from a nuke—even with internal armor as redundant protection against radiation surges, you've got about as much chance of keeping electronic components in service in that as a Cat has of keeping his claws sheathed on a hunt."

"Good point," Bondarevsky said. "So if someone did set up a transmitter at some point, or get one of the shipboard comm systems operating, it wouldn't have had much of a life expectancy."

"That's the way I figure it," the colonel agreed. "Frankly, I think it's confirmation that there aren't any survivors over there. If they did have a few compartments rigged with makeshift shield generators to block out the radiation, there's no reason why they couldn't have kept repairing their transmitter. The fact that it's silent now means there's nobody there to repair it. For whatever reason."

'Well, that's good news, at least." Bondarevsky studied the images in silence for a few moments. "I hope all our problems turn out to be this easy to deal with."

"Now hear this! Now hear this!" The voice of the carrier's Flight Control Officer rang through the shuttle. "All shuttles prepare for launch. Repeating, all shuttles on the flight line and prepare to launch!"

"Looks like the admirals have been reaching the same conclusions we have," Bhaktadil commented, showing startlingly white teeth as he grinned. "Now is when we start earning our pay, I suspect."

"If I know Richards and Tolwyn, and believe me I do, they'd have proceeded to this phase of the op even if every Cat in this part of the sector was swarming out there with guns blazing," Bondarevsky told the Gurkha. "They didn't bring us all this way to turn around and go home without seeing what's over there."

Inwardly he could only hope that their enthusiasm for winning a supercarrier for the Landreich wouldn't warp their judgment and blind them to what needed to be done.

The shuttle quivered a little as it rose from the flight deck on thrusters, but that was the only sign they were under power. It wasn't anything like a fighter launch, the sudden high-g thrust that leaked through the onboard inertial compensators and slammed you back into your seat as you leapt outward into the void. Slow and stately, the shuttle left Independence, fourth in line and followed by the rest of the survey contingent, shaping a course for the enigmatic hulk that circled Vaku's gas giant and drew the humans in like the lure of a Siren's song.

Starboard Flight Deck, ex-KIS Karga Orbiting Vaku VII, Vaku System 0849 hours (CST)

Bondarevsky was glad that he was a passenger on this shuttle run, and not up in the cockpit trying to bring her in. They watched the approach in the holo-projected display, and he found himself holding his breath as they made the final cautious course corrections to clear the wreckage that partially obscured the entry port on the starboard side flight deck of the Karga. In some ways it would have been easier than a standard carrier trap, since there was no force field across the port to complicate the final seconds of maneuvering and no internal gravity fields to deal with once they were within the confines of the ship. But without guidance from the carrier, without a working optical signals system, and most of all without an unobstructed flight deck it was a tricky bit of flying to bring the shuttle aboard.

When they finally touched down and the shuttle pilot cut in the magnetic clamps and announced "Down and safe," Bondarevsky let out an audible sigh of relief.

He wasn't the only one. He'd forgotten they were all wearing full pressure suits and helmets now, and their radios picked up every breath. Even the hard-bitten Bhaktadil seemed happy that the flight was over and they'd made it in one piece.

"Marines!" the colonel said crisply. "By the numbers! Prepare to deploy!"

"Sir!" That was Gunnery Sergeant Martin, Bhaktadil's senior NCO. "All right, people, look lively there! Positions for boarding! Standard dispersal pattern! Move it! Move it!"

As the twenty-eight armored marines scrambled to take their positions by each of the shuttle's three exits, Bhaktadil spoke in calm, even tones. "Remember, the gravity's off-line out there. You're operating in zero-g and no atmosphere, so make sure you take it into account. Keep your eyes open -- and don't just look for trouble on the deck. Check all the angles, and then check them again. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" came the reply, all the men speaking as one. Bondarevsky was impressed. Kruger's marines, at least, knew how to function as an elite unit should. They waited