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

quickest possible time, and the whole back end of the shuttle dropped to form a ramp capable of holding an armored personnel carrier. Outside a crowd of humans and Cats surged forward, noisy and excited. Stepping to the top of the ramp, Graham held up his hands and the mob fell silent.

"We found a rescue ship," he said loudly. "They've come to take us home!"

"Whose home, ape?" a large Kilrathi demanded, pushing to the front of the crowd. Even from inside the shuttle, Bondarevsky could see he was powerfully built, though the fur of his chest had been burned away and his skin was a criss-cross network of scar tissue. That he was still alive and kicking at all spoke volumes for the Cat's toughness, and Bondarevsky had to fight the urge to reach for his laser pistol. "Whose home, I say!"

There was a muttered reaction from many of the Kilrathi in the crowd. But it died away as one of their number stepped out from among them and mounted the ramp to join Graham.

"Kuraq," he said, facing the scarred Cat. He spoke in English, as the other had. Graham had said that they mostly used English in the castaway's camp these days, since more Kilrathi knew that language than Terrans knew their snarling tongue. There were several Cats translating what was said, though, for the benefit of those who didn't understand. "Listen to me, Kuraq. When we first agreed to cooperate with Graham, we pledged then that whichever side found us, we would all go willingly."

The Cat paused. He was slimmer than most of his kindred, with an aura of authority Bondarevsky found startling in such a young officer. The human couldn't quite tell what his rank insignia meant, but thought they were the tabs of some kind of lieutenant. Yet he handled this crowd with an ease few admirals could have projected.

Turning to look at Graham, the young officer went on. "We also agreed, Graham, that the side whose people came first would do everything possible for the rest of us."

Graham nodded. "I haven't lost my grasp of it, Murragh," he said firmly. "We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet, but I'm sure Captain Bondarevsky and his people will treat the Kilrathi survivors with respect. I'll do everything in my power to make sure of that. Meantime, we've got a chance to get off this rock! I don't know about you Kilrathi, but I'd gladly live in a zoo if it was anywhere but Nargrast!"

There was some cheering, then, mostly from humans but with a number of Cats adding the peculiar monotone chant that was their version of approbation.

Graham led the young Kilrathi to Bondarevsky. "Captain, this is Murragh Cakg dai Nokhtak. He is the ranking nobleman from the Kilrathi half of our little community. Murragh, Captain Jason Bondarevsky, in the service of the Free Republic of Landreich Navy, formerly a Commodore in the Confederation fleet."

Murragh extended a hand, a very human gesture. "I have heard of you, Captain," he said formally as Bondarevsky took it. "Your raid on Kilrah was most daring."

"Er... thank you." Of all the things Bondarevsky had prepared for over the course of his life, meeting an urbane Kilrathi nobleman wasn't one of them. "Cakg dai Nokhtak. That was the name of the admiral commanding the Karga battle group, wasn't it?"

"My uncle," the young noble said proudly.

"I'm . . . sorry."

Murragh frowned for a moment, then suddenly nodded. "Of course. Your human concept of the sadness of death. My uncle fought a long struggle with the God of the Running Death, Captain, and he killed himself to the greater glory of our hrai. There is no sadness in that."

Beside them, Graham cleared his throat. "Could we save the philosophy lesson for later, 0 Great Prince," he asked with a sarcastic edge to his voice. "The natives are getting restless again out there, and these people have a lot of organizing to do."

The evacuation of the refugees promised to be an organizational nightmare, and it took hours for Bondarevsky to get things running smoothly. City of Cashel had plenty of shuttles of all sizes and descriptions available to carry out the program, but lifting capacity was never one of the Landreich team's concerns.

By far the most difficult thing was overcoming the transport captain's loudly voiced objections to taking on ninety-seven Kilrathi on top of the five-thousand plus crew destined for the Karga. It wasn't numbers that bothered him, it was the idea of carrying Cats at all. Captain Steiger didn't like Cats, and didn't see why they should bother taking them off Nargrast, since if they got what they deserved they would all end up getting spaced for war crimes against the Landreich anyway. Bondarevsky finally had to invoke the full authority of the Goliath Project, while hoping that Steiger wouldn't realize that the discovery of the self-destruct system aboard the supercarrier made it more unlikely than ever that Goliath would actually be anything more than a passing notion.

Even after Steiger's cooperation was secured there were plenty of details to attend to. There were the sick and injured, for example. Nearly half the survivors were ill to some extent from the atmospheric overpressure and the bitter cold, and there were a number of Kilrathi still recovering from injuries received in the crash of the escort. Several members of both races were suffering from the lingering effects of radiation poisoning, as well. Juneau's Medical Officer, Bruno Abramowicz, and Karga's Cadre Surgeon Ghellen lan Dory, had done the best they could, but their medical supplies were running low and conditions had been declining steadily. So Bondarevsky had to arrange for the worst of the Sick Bay cases to be evacuated first. Up on the transport he drafted Karga's intended medical staff to work with City of Cashel's chief surgeon and the two castaway doctors. It created additional friction with Steiger, but in the end Bondarevsky made his decision stick.

A further complication arose in the form