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

years, not after Thrakhath had revealed his irreligious nature to the nobility. Jhorrad did him the ultimate honor, pledging a form of fealty that placed him entirely at his new master's command.

"Rise, Captain," he said sternly, recalling the proper formula. "I accept your pledge of service, your claws and teeth, your mind and spirit, your eyes and ears. May I never require to accept your throat, as long as you serve my hrai."

Jhorrad stood. "I thank my Lord."

"You have journeyed for a long time, Captain," Ragark said in a more conversational tone. "Tell me, how is Vorghath? When will he be ready for service?"

"Many eight-days, I fear," the commoner said. "The ship was badly damaged when Kilrah was destroyed. We barely escaped the system. Since then we have had no place of refuge to make more than makeshift repairs, and Melek's ships have hounded us." He showed his teeth. "But even wounded, Vorghath taught those a lesson in respect, and Melek gave up the hunt some time ago. We need an extensive refit. New stores, a complete retuning of shield generators and fusion plants. Repair of battle damage to the hull. Replacements for crew members killed and wounded, and for those who have expressed a desire to be discharged now that their oath to the Emperor binds them no longer."

Ragark almost responded with an angry remark about Warriors who abandoned their posts before their lords gave them permission, but he grasped the words before they were uttered. He was not the Emperor yet, and until he was acclaimed and seated upon the throne he would have to watch his step, even with commoners like Jhorrad. Especially with Jhorrad, who could smooth over so many possible obstacles that lay between Ragark and the throne.

Before he could say anything at all, a warning siren sounded. Nerrag jag Rhang raised a commlink to his face and spoke urgently. Then he turned to Ragark.

"My Lord, sensors have registered a ship of Terran design decloaking less than two light minutes from orbit. It is broadcasting a signal asking to speak with Ghraffid nar Dhores, and identifies the sender as a 'Zachary Banfeld.' "

Ragark turned to face the block of followers nearby. "What is this about, Lord Ghraffid?"

The Economic Minister looked abashed. "Lord, the Terran Banfeld is a renegade ape who works for his own profit. I have found it useful, from time to time, to have dealings with him . . . as a way of gaining access to information about activities on the other side of the frontier."

Ragark studied him for a long moment in silence. "And of course my Economic Minister needs such intelligence from Terran space, to know what the price of raw meat and claw sharpeners is on their side of the frontier," he said, mustering all the sarcasm at his command. "Let me see, how often has this source of yours been mentioned in the frequent talks we've had regarding intelligence operations conducted by your Ministry?' He paused. "You have been dealing with a smuggler, a black marketeer, and the only reason I can think of for that is the desire to make profits of your own. Isn't that right?"

"N-no, my Lord . . . I mean, not simply that . . ."

"Never mind. I will deal with you later." Ragark made a dismissive gesture. "Your smuggler friend has arrived at a very bad time, I'm afraid. He has been in the system, under cloak, for an unknown period of time. Long enough, at least, to register the presence of the Vorghath here. This is information we cannot afford to let the apes have too soon." He turned back to Nerrag. "Order that ape ship intercepted and destroyed. We cannot allow him to pass on word of Vorghath to his people. And have this huckster arrested and held for trial. Now!"

"More information, my Lord," Nerrag said, looking up from his commlink. "The ape has cloaked again. Last readings indicated he was heading for the jump point at top speed. Interception will be difficult as long as he remains under cloak . .

"I know that!" Ragark snapped. "All right, if you cannot stop the ship, pursue it. Energy readings at the jump point should give a fairly good idea of when and where he goes. Dispatch a task force to follow the ape—the carriers Hravik and Klarran, and their battle groups. Some time he will have to decloak, and when he does I want him destroyed! And any other apes he comes in contact with, as well. See to it, Nerrag."

Ragark turned away, seething, to hide his look of frustration from the others. Especially Jhorrad, the peasant who must never see his Lord at a loss.

Combat Information Center, FRLS Independence Near Hellhole, Hellhole System 0730 hours (CST), 2671.019

"Wing Commander reports all resistance on the planet has ended, Captain. Bombers are proceeding with planned strikes on the base. The carrier has broken orbit and is withdrawing in the direction of Jump Point Six . . . to Vordran, sir. Cat territory."

Captain John Galbraith leaned forward in his command chair, full of anticipation. "Thank you, Commander Roth." He said formally to his Exec. "Instruct Commander Tolwyn to have his fighters pursue the carrier. I want it stopped.-

"Aye aye, sir."

"Navigator, lay in a course to intercept the Guild carrier. Helm, increase to maximum acceleration. Break orbit and get us up to that ship ASAP." He turned towards Roth. "Order the bombers to complete their runs, catch up with us, and rearm. I want them ready in case Tolwyn can't finish off the pirates by himself." Actually, he intended to get a few blows in whether Tolwyn could handle the job or not. It was important that he be able to demonstrate his own vital part in this whole affair, and not let an outlander like Admiral Tolwyn's nephew claim any of the credit.

He leaned back again, feeling satisfied. Independence had caught the pirates in the middle of disassembling their base