They had pulled the three jumps into the edge of the Kilrathi sector without detection, and the next jump was slated for initiation in just under eight hours.
Eight hours. He looked around the room. His pilots were projecting what they expected to be the proper model of someone about to go forth and meet the enemy—a casual indifference, or open expressions of eagerness, but he knew better. It was almost hard now to remember his own first combat flight, and the humiliation of throwing up in the head only minutes before reporting to the flight line.
“All right then. Stand down, try to grab a quick nap if you can. Report to the flight line at 0415. The moment jump-through into the Vukar Tag system is completed we launch.”
“Jump initiation sequence is at full automatic and counting at ten, nine…”
Jason leaned back in the cockpit of his Rapier and closed his eyes. No matter how many hundreds of times he jumped, it still left a bit of a twinge in his stomach.
“Three, two, one…”
Space on the other side of the airlock suddenly flashed. There was a momentary sparkle effect, and the faint sensation that he was falling and then another flash. It was as if a holo screen channel had been switched and a view of one sector instantly replaced with another.
There was a momentary pause, an expectant hush as the Tarawa’s auto nav system locked on to the target stars in the new system, checking to see that they had arrived at where they were supposed to arrive. It was never a 100 percent sure thing with a jump. A transit point could have shifted, maybe even shut down, or the nav officer in charge might have screwed up. There was also the slim chance that two ships would jump into the same place, at exactly the same instant, but if that ever happened, Jason realized, there would not even be a split second of understanding before the total destruction of the ships in an incandescent flash.
“Tarawa nav confirms location,” a computerized voice whispered in his headset. He looked down at his fighter’s nav screen and a second later saw the navigational information being fed into his fighter’s computer.
Jason clicked on his comm link.
“Wing launch is go.”
He looked up and saw Janice’s ship slam out through the airlock, followed thirty seconds later by a second recon ship. The tractor hooked to the front of Jason’s Rapier started forward, pulling him up to the launch ramp, while the third Ferret went out and then the fourth. He was rolled into place and locked into the catapult. Check out completed, he gave the thumbs-up, leaned back, and two seconds later was in space, afterburners screaming into life as he roared straight ahead.
Twenty kilometers to starboard he saw CVE-4 Sevastopol and heard the chatter of her pilots on the other carrier’s channel. The ship had jumped through five minutes ahead of them and most of their fighter squadron was out.
“Tar Blue Leader, do you copy? This is Pol Wing Command.”
“Tar Blue Leader here,” Jason replied.
“We’ve got negative on Kilrathi combat patrol. Repeat, no bogeys yet.”
“Good news on that Pol. My people are forming for strike, keep me posted, Blue Leader out.”
There was a flicker of light to port and Jason looked over as the first of the Marine transports materialized into the sector. Ten seconds later a second ship appeared, and within another minute all nine were in, kicking up to full speed. From their forward bays the first assault landing craft emerged.
Thirty million clicks ahead the dirty brown and red crescent of Vukar Tag was barely visible. He could imagine that all hell was breaking loose down there as the Kilrathi planet defense system picked up the unexpected visitors. It was going to be a three hour run down to the planet, escorting the landing craft in with Pol’s fighters providing the forward sweep and then Combat Air Patrol for the fleet and backup. By the time Pol’s fighters got there, they’d be ready.
He settled back, circling the Tarawa at ten kilometers out, waiting for his pups to form.
“Tar Blue Leader, this is Pol Wing Command, starting forward sweep, will keep advised.”
Jason settled back, listening to the Sevastopol’s air command channel as the recon and fighter sweep went in to check out the planet’s defenses. Space was rapidly getting crowded as each marine transport disgorged twenty landing craft, each ladened down with a company of a hundred grunts, followed by the heavy weapons support craft. Sevastopol’s first squadron continued on in, its second forming a close-in combat patrol around the fleet, while Tarawa’s attack force formed up to go in with the assault.
“Tar Blue Leader this is White Knight, marine air-ground support control.”
He swallowed hard at the sound of Svetlana’s voice.
“Go ahead White Knight.”
“All landing craft are away, beginning assault.”
Jason looked down at his watch. Twenty-seven minutes; damn, they were good. He toggled back to the Tarawa and quietly groaned when he found out that six fighters and three bombers were still waiting to get up. They’d have to catch up, the assault couldn’t wait.
“Go ahead White Knight, we’re with you.”
The assault landing craft, spread out across a thousand cubic kilometers of space started in, Jason keeping his formation forward of the landing force. The three-hour run in was almost too quiet, a lone Drakhi recon ship, quickly dispatched by Sevastopol’s forward sweep the only encounter. The planet soon filled most of space before him and they crossed the orbit of Vukar Tag’s only moon.
The Kilrathi finally responded. From the barren and airless surface of the moon a full spread of missiles suddenly snapped loose, the high-pitched whine of their tracking systems ringing in Jason’s headphones.
“Tar Blue Leader, to Blue Squadron, here’s our first job. Follow me.”
He broke hard right, kicking on afterburners into a skidding turn and rolling over to drop beneath the marine landing craft. Target acquisition sorted through the mad scramble of data and showed fifty outbound missiles, accelerating up and aimed into the heart of the assault.
“Break and pick your targets.”
He heard a high pitched shout of glee from one of his pilots and tried to mark down who it was for a later chewing out. Pushing in hard, he aimed straight at the missile spread, locked on with laser cannons, and snapped off a volley, detonating his first target. Exploding missiles snapped in silent death. A missile guidance system, overriding its initial programming to go for the landing craft, swung about, cutting in behind Jason. He toggled off a chaff pod, cutting a tight roll. The missile, momentarily confused by the chaff, regained lock.
It continued to close.
“I’m on him, sir.”
It was Chamberlain and Jason looked up to his rear projection mirror to see a flash of light a dozen clicks astern as the missile detonated.
“Thanks, Round Top.”
He continued in towards the planet, and his combat information computer, analyzing the trajectories of the missiles traced them back to their source. Jason fed the information over to Doomsday who detailed off a strike bomber to go down and nail the concealed enemy base. Less than a minute later he saw the flash of an explosion on the planet’s surface, followed an instant later by a ripple of secondaries. The bomber, with load expended, pulled up and away and started back for rearming to Tarawa, which was following in behind the assault.
“Three broke through to transports, Blue Leader.”
“We’re on them, White Knight.”