The words were wrong. He knew it, even as a shrill screech rang in his ear and brought him out of the dream. The words were all wrong . . .
He had let her go that day without a protest. He told Angel that he understood, told her that he would wait for her. But she hadn't come back to the Concordia. And he wasn't sure she'd ever come back to him. Angel . . .
The noise didn't go away even after he had sat up, his eyes wide open, staring at the bare walls of his quarters. It took Blair quite a while to realize the noise was the shrilling sound of the General Quarters alarm. He started to rise when a computer voice joined the cacophony. "Now, General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to Combat Stations. This is not a drill. General Quarters, General Quarters . . ."
A moment later the computer voice was replaced by Rollins, sounding excited. "Colonel Blair, to the Captain's Ready Room, please. Colonel Blair to Captain's Ready Room!"
As he finished tugging on his uniform, Blair glanced at the watch implanted in his wrist. It read 0135 hours, ship time. With a muttered curse, he grabbed his boots and started wrestling them onto his feet.
He wasn't sure which was worse the dream of his loss or the reality of the war
Dressed and almost awake, Blair forced himself to move through the corridors at a brisk yet measured pace. Never let your people see you run, laddie, Paladin had told him once back in the days they served on Tiger's Claw together. Even when the whole bloody universe is falling around your ears, walk like you haven't a care in the world, and the other lads'll take heart and fight the better for it.
It took all his willpower to remember the old warrior's lesson this time. The incessant alarm and the crewmen hastening to their combat stations set every nerve on edge. He knew long before he reached the ready room that this mission was the one which they had been awaiting — and dreading — for so long.
"Blair!" Eisen's voice boomed out as he entered the compartment. "Thought I was going to have to send somebody to roust you out of bed, man! We've spotted the bad guys, and we haven't got a second to lose."
He joined the captain, Rollins, and Hobbes at the big table, watched as Eisen manipulated a terminal, activating a holographic chart in the air above the smooth surface.
"Leyland and Svensson spotted two carriers and five destroyers here eighteen minutes ago," Eisen said, indicating a set of coordinates approximately ten million kilometers ahead of the carrier's present position. "They made a positive ID on both of the carriers. One is the Sar'hrai our friend from Tamayo. The other is definitely the Hvar'kann."
"So Thrakhath is here, just like the reports indicated. Blair fought himself to suppress a betraying tremor in his voice. "I wonder how much of the rest of it's true?"
"Most of it, Colonel," Eisen said levelly, meeting his eyes with a bland stare. "Intell sent us an update last night. The Kilrathi are carrying missiles armed with biological warheads, and they are going to attempt to use them against Locanda IV. The missiles are a new type, designated Skipper. They're too big to carry aboard fighters, so they'll be launched from capital ships."
"They had to wait until now to confirm it?" Blair asked bitterly. "They couldn't give us time to get ready?"
"The confirmation only came in from outsystem yesterday. One of General Taggart's resources finally gave us the full specs on the weapon . . . for what it's worth."
"You haven't heard the really bad news, either," Rollins put in. "These Skipper missiles carry cloaking devices, so they'll be damned hard to track. And as for the warheads . . . well, we might as well not have the specs at all. There's no counter for those bugs. Nothing."
Eisen gave Rollins a quick, angry look. "Once the pandemic is introduced into a Terrestroid ecosystem it'll spread very quickly," he said. "And Mr. Rollins is correct. Even the Kilrathi don't have a cure for it."
Blair's nod was sober. "So we can't let them get any missiles through to the planet," he said. He looked from Eisen to Rollins. "But how do we stop cloaked missiles? Hell, I didn't think the targeting system on a missile could handle cloaked flight. Everything I ever saw said you need a pilot to handle a bird when it's under cloak."
"According to the specs, the Skipper doesn't stay under cloak all the time," Eisen said. "It drops out of cloak every few seconds to update its flight profile. So they can be tracked . . . but only intermittently."
"Lovely. Any more good news?"
"Leyland was able to get an accurate scan of the Kilrathi. From the looks of things, both carriers had an absolute minimum of fighters deployed." Eisen's eyes studied him through the hologram. "They have the escorts doing most of their recon and CAP work. You know what that means as well as I do."
"Yeah." Blair nodded again. "They're prepping the fighters for a magnum launch. Right, Hobbes?"
The Kilrathi renegade sounded grave. "I fear that is the only likely explanation, my friend," he agreed.
"They're still pretty far out for a strike," Blair said. "Range is extreme for a run against Four."
"I agree," Eisen said. "But if I was about to make an all-out strike on a well-defended target, I'd prep early and keep my people ready. That way I could launch the moment I knew the enemy had discovered my ships. They may not be planning the strike right away, but they'll be good to go at any time."
"Where does that leave us?" Blair asked. "No criticism intended for the Victory and her crew, sir, but I'm not wild about the idea of us tackling the whole Kilrathi force alone. We might get in some hits, but some of the bastards will escape . . . and then where would we be?"
"Agreed," Eisen said. He looked at Blair. "Even I'm not so proud of the old girl that I think she'd survive a stand-up fight with seven cap ships. And our battle group isn't strong enough to even up the odds, either."
That prompted nods around the table. Three destroyers, Coventry, Sheffield, and Ajax, had joined the carrier at Tamayo as escorts, but two of them were as old and outdated as Victory herself. Only Coventry carried her own half-wing of fighters. All in all, they weren't much when set against the Kilrathi force.
"Do you have any recommendations, Colonel?" Eisen went on.
Blair studied the chart. "Yeah," he said slowly. He allowed himself a wolfish grin. "Hit them now. . . and hit them hard."
Eisen looked doubtful. "It'll be a mismatch," he said. "Can you do anything against those odds?"
"Yes, sir, I can," Blair said, although a part of him didn't share the confidence he tried to project. "We won't be going in to take on the whole Kilrathi fleet. My notion is to threaten them with an attack and make them launch their missiles early. That's what I'd do, if I wasn't sure what was hitting me. So we stir them up, make them commit. And then we go after those missiles with everything we've got. Victory won't be in any danger, because I don't see how they could mount a counterstrike in the middle of their attack op. The risk falls entirely to the Wing."
"I was hoping you'd come up with something better Colonel," Eisen said, sounding weary, "because that was the only plan I was able to rough out, too. And I'm afraid your pilots are going to be in for one hell of a fight."
"Yeah," Blair said. "I know. But I don't see anything else we can do without throwing away the one advantage we have right now."
"Advantage? We have an advantage?" Rollins looked and sounded incredulous.
"Surprise, Mr. Rollins," Blair told him with a slow smile. "Fact is, nobody would be crazy enough to do what we're talking about doing."