The main vulnerability of the Kilrathi was their reliance on a highly organized leader cult at all levels of their society. From the Emperor down to the most ordinary noncom, leaders were looked to for virtually all decisions, even minor tactical choices a human would automatically make on his own initiative. The chain of command in the Empire allowed for a certain amount of flexibility, but an Imperial force without a leader grew rapidly unstable.
And Kilrathi leaders were well aware of this. They fought honorably in battle, like any of their race, but they were also all too conscious of the need for protection.
A threat to Thrakhath's flagship, then, might just get the full attention of the Kilrathi prince, at least for a time. He would almost certainly concentrate his capital ships to meet the danger, and that might just give Blair and Gold Squadron the time they needed to do something about the Kilrathi missiles that were already accelerating away from the enemy fleet. If the Kilrathi concentrated on defending themselves, their missiles might just be vulnerable.
"Gold Squadron, stay with me," he went on. "Let's give the heavy stuff a wide berth if we can."
"I'm for that!" Vaquero said. "The wider, the better."
Still at full thrust, the Thunderbolts raced in pursuit of the Kilrathi fighters, but despite Blair's preference their course led them directly past one of the enemy destroyers. For a moment he debated steering clear of the ship, but that would give the Kilrathi strike force too much lead time. Blair decided their only choice was to risk the capitol ship's defensive fire. . . .
"Check your shields, people," he ordered. "And hold your fire. Our targets are the fighters."
"Goddamn," Maniac said, almost too soft to hear. "We could nail this bastard if we wanted to. . . ."
"Stick to the program, Maniac," Blair warned.
"I know, I know," Marshall said. "But you can't blame a guy for dreaming can you?"
The destroyer opened fire, massive energy discharges crackling from each of her turret batteries. One shot grazed Blair's starboard shields, and his status board lit up red as the computer assessed the power loss. It wouldn't take too many such hits to overwhelm the shielding and start sloughing off armor.
The biggest problem, though, was just gripping the steering yoke and trying to stay on course. Every nerve and muscle within him wanted to take action, any kind of action, but Blair forced himself to maintain his course and press on. He hoped the others would follow his lead.
"I'm hit! I'm hit!" That was Beast Jaeger. "Direct hit on bow shielding. The generator's overloaded —"
"Hold on, partner," Cobra said. She was flying as his wingman again today. "Ease off a bit. I'll slide in ahead of you." Blair glanced at his tactical display and saw that the lieutenant was suiting actions to words, bringing her Thunderbolt in directly ahead of Jaeger's. She could soak up at least some of the energy that came his way now . . . but it was a dangerous move, keeping such a tight formation.
"What's your status, Beast?" he asked.
"Bow shield generator's off-line, Colonel," Jaeger reported, calmer now. "But I'm re-routing the system now. It'll be makeshift, but I'll get the shields back up."
"You could abort . . ."
"No way, Colonel. I'm in it for the long haul."
"Bastard's still firing," Maniac commented. "Damn near singed my wings. I still wish I could take him down."
"Maniac, if we take out those missiles, I personally guarantee you we'll come back and toast this cat's whiskers," Blair told him. "Any other damage?"
There was none. They had cleared the destroyer's primary kill zone now, though a few stray shots might still find them even here. But the worst was over. . . .
Except, of course, for stopping those missiles.
"The stalker is loose among the meat-herd, Lord Prince. Their bombers have damaged the forward shields and knocked out our primary missile launcher."
"The Terrans are prey, not predators," Thrakhath snarled. He didn't like the way Melek was beginning to regard the enemy. Respect or admiration was an accolade to be accorded only to predators, and the Terrans certainly didn't qualify for that status no matter how hard they fought to stay clear of the Imperial claws and fangs.
"Perhaps not," Melek said, almost mildly. "But at the moment that prey is dangerous. The threat to the flagship cannot be ignored, Lord Prince. And it is not the only problem —"
"The Terran success will not last," Thrakhath told him. "They are too badly outnumbered to deal with all our ships. Particularly once the fighters are fully deployed. ''
"The attacks on the flagship may be no more than a diversion, Lord Prince. The Terrans feint and threaten, but do not press home their thrusts. Nor are they eager to engage our fighters. We have destroyed two medium interceptors and a bomber, and others are damaged. But one of their squadrons is pursuing the missile flight. If they can intercept the missiles, the whole plan will be lost. We should consider diverting additional fighters to cover the missile strike."
"No, Melek," he said at last. "No, the Red Fangs will be sufficient for that task. The other fighters will remain here, to support the fleet. And to threaten the Terran carrier, once they break off their attacks here."
"As you command, Lord Prince," Melek acknowledged. But Thrakhath thought he could detect an undercurrent of dispute in his retainer's tone. That would have to be dealt with, at some point, lest it grow into open rebellion.
A pity, really, if Thrakhath ultimately was forced to do away with him. Melek was too useful a subordinate to dispose of casually.
"Stay on them," Blair said through tight-clenched teeth. "Stay on them . . ."
A cluster of Kilrathi missiles glowed bright on his short-range scanner, almost within weapons range now as the Terrans continued their pursuit. Then they were gone again, cloaked, equally invisible to electronic scanning and the naked eye. It made the chase a frustrating one, never knowing just when the targets might be visible or where their essentially random course changes might put them next. But patience and a little bit of luck would still be enough to stop the Kilrathi warheads . . . provided the Terrans kept on top of the Skippers. If any of them got past the Confederation fighters, picking up their trail again later would be well-nigh impossible.
"Hobbes, you and Flash get to play tag with these boys," Blair announced on the tactical channel. "Stick with it until you clean them up. and try to let us know if any of them get past you. Save your missiles if you can . . . there might be some tougher opponents for you to go after later on." He paused. "The rest of you stay with me. We'll track down that next batch while Hobbes has his fun here. Fire at any target of opportunity, beams only . . . and don't deviate from your flight paths. Let's do it!"
Flight Captain Graldak nar Sutaghi accelerated his Strakha fighter to full power and studied the tell-tales flickering on his sensor screen. The Terrans were among the missiles now, beginning to fire as the Vrag'chath popped in and out of view to allow their computers to make course corrections in flight. It was time for Graldak's warriors to make their presence known.