"Alert all ships to immediately set course for-" Vukar heard himself finish the command, but all activity on the bridge had already ceased. His vision lasted but another second before narrowing into a world of speckled darkness. The weight of his armor lifted from his shoulders, and the bindings on his boots no longer pinched. Even the sweet aroma of nutrient gas had been neutralized into a smell that was no smell. He pricked up his ears, straining to hear something. A distant rumble finally sounded, grew louder, then suddenly roared as he coughed, blinked off flashes of piercing light, then leaned onto his command chair.
"Jump completed," Makorshk said. "Drive systems nominal."
"Escorts report successful jump," added Comm officer Ta'kar'ki.
"Relay order for all ships to stalk. Low emissions. Run ultra quiet," Vukar ordered breathlessly. "Navigation? Helm? Set course for Hell's Kitchen jump point." He strode quickly toward the viewport to examine the shining dots of the system dead ahead. The jump point lay within that system, a gravity well about twenty thousand kilometers from the planet Netheryana.
"Jump point data is already in our system," Makorshk said. "Jump calculations will be available in approximately four minutes. We'll reach jump point in four-point-four minutes. Request permission to scan for ion emissions and gravitic residuum."
"Passive scans only," Vukar snarled. "You heard the ape. They've established no-fly zones around each of the Pilgrim enclaves and systems-including this one. We've just jumped head on into a Confederation battle group."
"No, Kalralahr. Passive imager has already detected three Confederation capital ships-only three," Makorshk said, bearing his fangs. "Largest contact identified as the CS Tiger Claw. Other two are Exeter-class destroyers CS Oregon and CS Mitchell Hammock."
"Navigation? Plot evasion course to jump point."
"We're not going to engage?" Makorshk asked, his tan eyes paling in surprise. "One strike carrier and two destroyers are an easy kill."
Heads turned toward the second fang who dared question his admiral's orders.
Vukar spun to First Fang Jatark. "Remove him."
"No," Makorshk cried. "The apes are there, helpless against us. You deny us the honor, Kalralahr? And you shame me with this order of removal?"
Drawing on his instincts, Jatark lunged over Makorshk's tactical console and collided with the younger warrior. Both Kilrathi roared as they rolled across the deck in a death clutch. Makorshk drew back a paw, serrated claws springing out as he slashed Jatark across the cheek. The parallel wounds spewed blood onto the first fang's skin. As the sting of his lacerations finally set in, Jatark emitted a terrific howl, released his grip, and extended the claws on both of his paws.
But Makorshk exploited that moment to reach into his thigh sheath and withdraw his vorshaki dueling blade, a curved knife with a sharp notch representing each of the noble clans of Kilrah. Makorshk's hand shot up with extraordinary speed. He jammed the blade into Jatork's neck, twisted the handle forty-five degrees, then drove the knife up with a horrible crunch.
A proximity alarm chirped from Makorshk's station, and Comm Officer Ta'kar'ki shifted toward it, his gaze never leaving Makorshk as the second fang continued working his vorshaki into Jatork's head. Meanwhile, Ta'kar'ki snapped his finger on a small bell, an ancient tocsin used to beckon the entire bridge crew. "Kalralahr! The strike carrier Tiger Claw and one of her destroyers have altered course to intercept."
Another alarm blared from Radar Officer Syl'rkai's station. "Six inbound contacts. Identifying." Syl'rkai took another look at his screen, then his voice dropped to ominous depths. "Kalralahr? Contacts identified as cap ship missiles launched from the Tiger Claw. Missiles will have lock in four seconds. Estimated impact in thirty-three seconds."
"We have to launch countermeasures," Makorshk said, wrenching his blade from Jatork's neck. The second fang shoved Jatork's body away and stood, his face and arm drenched in dark gore. He bolted to his station and began skimming data that scrolled across a trio of screens.
Vukar glimpsed Jatark, whose paws jerked spasmodically and whose body began heaving a stench. The admiral advanced toward Makorshk, reaching for his own vorshaki blade and feeling the frenzy claw into in his head.
"A blood duel, of course," Makorshk said. "I knew it could come to this the day we lost those destroyers. But is this the time, Kalralahr?" The steady beep of incoming missiles punctuated the second fang's question.
" Kass'richak," Vukar shouted, the ancient curse jarring his crew almost as much as Makorshk's attack on Jatark. "Launch countermeasures." He regarded the helmsman. "All ships to assume defense positions. Continue on evasion course." He cocked his head to Makorshk. "We will not engage. That is not
our mission.
Makorshk lifted his chin high in disrespect. "Then we flee like lowborns, and your destiny lies alongside Bokoth's. Counter-measures away."
"Missiles have lock," interjected Radar Officer Syl'rkai. "Cruisers intervening."
Tearing himself free of Makorshk's bold stare, Vukar regarded the forward viewport, where the spectacle would play out before his eyes.
Missiles took form in the distance, etching their familiar and foreboding tracks across the void. Two of his Fralthi-class cruisers soared overhead and descended to provide a moderate shield for the superdreadnought's bow, while a third cruiser hugged the ship's belly and would interdict any missile fire to that region. His single Ralari-class destroyer would shift well ahead of the battle group and unleash torpedoes in salvos of eight. Turreted lasers would attempt to pick off the incoming cap ship missiles, as would the destroyer's pair of antimatter guns. The battle group's two Sivar-class dreadnoughts now lumbered into flanking positions. At over eight hundred meters and equipped with twelve torpedo tubes each, the dreadnoughts alone could take on the apes and emerge victorious. Never mind the dreadnoughts' fighter complements of over one hundred and fifty, and the tremendous meson shields that protected their streamlined, rectangular hulls. The torpedoes would be enough to gnaw away the strike carrier's shields and reduce her to a tumbling collection of gas-and-spark-laden rubbish. But as Vukar had reminded Makorshk, they should not waste time engaging. They would move as quickly as they could to the jump point.
As the dreadnoughts added their own antimatter fire to the growing defense wall, eight cone-shaped drones transmitting false electromagnetic signatures spiraled away from the Shak'Ar'Roc in an attempt to bait any missiles that might penetrate the escort defense. Vukar tracked the path of one such drone until it vanished behind a scintillating bulwark of laser fire that originated from one of his cruisers.
At the moment, the battle resembled a strange race, rounds competing with each other as they blasted away from his ships and arrowed into the distance. With all of his senses, Vukar reached out into that distance, trying as his forefathers had to get a sense, a feel, for his enemy, but the vacuum barred him from satisfying that impulse.
"Kalralahr, two squadrons of fighters inbound," said Radar Officer Syl'rkai.
Vukar lowered his snout in expectation of the attack. "We'll let the dreadnoughts handle them."
"Shall I relay the order to launch fighters?" Comm Officer Ta'kar'ki asked.
"No."
"Kalralahr, some of those fighters will penetrate point-defense systems," Makorshk said, leaving his station and pounding his way toward Vukar. "We must launch a counter-assault."
"Return to your station," Vukar growled. "Ask Sivar for forgiveness and for a swift death."
Makorshk held his unflinching gaze for a moment, then spun and trudged back. Vukar could have easily summoned a replacement tactical officer, but despite everything Makorshk had done, the second fang had more experience than any of his other tactical officers. Now, in time of combat, he wanted Makorshk at his station. After the jump, dueling blades would settle their differences.