WING COMMANDER 4.123106

By Gary Hladik

This parody is a work of fiction.  The author is not affiliated nor endorsed by the owner of the original material being parodied.

Wing Commander is a registered trademark of Origin Systems, Inc.

eBook edition by Pierre Deshaies

Cover art by Alex Von Tolmacsy

Wing Commander 4.123106 chapters were posted to alt.games.wing-commander at irregular intervals from August 18, 1996 to August 29, 1997.

Distributed by the Wing Commander CIC
www.wcnews.com

Editor's word

Wing Commander 4.123106 was originally an episodic release posted over a newsgroup.  While I choose to leave most of the original references to the episodic nature of the work in (the next chapters "previews", for example), I did cut a few lines that felt out of place or simply outdated.

In the introduction, before the chapter 1 previews these lines were cut:
"As I write this, I'm sitting on 15 complete chapters of the story. The other 15 are in various stages of completion. I plan to post one chapter per week for the next 30 weeks, with new posts going out on Sunday nights, US Pacific time. Note, however, that I have family and work obligations, so I can't guarantee that I'll keep to this schedule, or even that I'll finish the story."

"I'll post the first chapter on alt.games.wingcommander next Sunday night (08/18/96) with the subject:"

In the conclusion, references to obsolete FTP and web hosting were cut.

It should also be noted that in the process of being copied from newsgroup to text files to web pages, some formating problems got into the text; mostly lacking spaces between two words.  I tried my best to find the pattern of the missing spaces and re-insert them all, I may have missed a few;  but most of the remaining compound words should be as per the author's intention (i.e. spaceport versus space port).  For the same reason, when in doubt I left spelling mistakes in.

Pierre Deshaies

Introduction to "Wing Commander 4.123106: The Price of Entertainment"

As a fan of the Wing Commander games, I was greatly impressed by Origin's fourth installment in the series. I enjoyed the improved graphics, real sets, better acting, and more complex plot. The story still had only one "good" ending (in two variants), but the additional plot branches were a nice touch.

On the other hand, I missed certain things from the other games. For example, WC 4 had no love interest for our hero. Having enjoyed WC 3's romantic sub-plot so much, I found this a serious deficiency. Even worse, in Wing 4 the only "welcome back" I ever got was a tiny, grainy green video. When I nurse a shot-up fighter back from a heart-pounding, gut-wrenching, do-or-die mission, I want a warm welcome from Rachel Pretty-slick-flying-sir Coriolis or even that Wing 1 smart-ass You-sure-got-yourself-shot-up-sir techie.

Worst of all, despite valiant efforts at comedy relief from Maniac, Wing 4 took itself entirely too seriously. In scene after scene, Blair & Co. were grimly determined, seriously determined, seriously grim, etc. In contrast, the characters in WC 3 seemed to have a lot more fun, even with the Kilrathi breathing down their necks. As I recall, WC 3 also inspired a number of humorous posts on the Net, which greatly added to my enjoyment of the game.

If Wing Commander IV were approached from a somewhat less reverent point of view, I wondered, what kind of humor could be extracted from it? My own answer to that question is found in the fanfic story "Wing Commander 4.123106: The Price of Entertainment," which debuts next week on alt.games.wing-commander.

While not exactly a comedy, this rewrite of the Wing Commander IV story tries to be considerably more lighthearted and uninhibited than the original. It follows the same general storyline, but I've rewritten every existing cut-scene and added many new ones. I've kept the same Wing 4 characters (although Pliers has a new job), added many new ones, and brought back a few more of the Wing 3 cast (guess who!). The story is told in the first person by none other than the Heart of the Tiger himself, which means of course that the story omits all cutscenes in which Blair is not present, e.g. the opening sequence of the attack on the transport Amadeus.

The combat missions in the story are inspired by Origin's, but all have been partly or completely rewritten. In most cases I've cut the size of Blair's opposition to something less arcade-like. Flight mechanics and tactics used in the missions are based on the game, but I've made some changes for dramatic or comedic purposes.

*** SPOILER WARNING ***

Despite extensive rewriting of the original story, WC 4.123106 still contains numerous spoilers for Wing Commanders III and IV and, to a lesser extent, WC I and II. I strongly recommend that readers finish both the Wing III and Wing IV games before reading this story; otherwise most of the gags and plot twists will fall flat--of course they may anyway. :-) Knowledge of the Wing Commander novels is not necessary, as I make no use of them.

One final warning: due to violent content, profanity, nudity, and sexual situations, WC 4.123106 is rated R (by me!). US netizens under the age of 17 should not read it without permission from a parent or guardian. Non-US readers should of course apply the standards of their own countries.

Some previews from Chapter 1:

"Oh, no, maggot, you won't die. Not yet."

"No, let ME buy YOU a knife in your throat!"

"I need you both to be strong while I'm out there."

The "WC 4.123106" feature is rated R. It contains:

AL   Adult Language

GV   Graphic Violence

GN   Gratuitous Nudity

SC   Sexual Content

EWSH   Extremely Warped Sense of Humor

Gary Hladik

Prologue

I had failed.

Numbly, I shuffled forward between two snarling Kilrathi guards. It was a singular honor not to be dragged ignominiously by tooth and claw, but I was too deeply mired in despair to appreciate it. The hopes of mankind had ridden with me, and I had failed.

At long, long last, we reached the dreadnought's great throne chamber, where I stood before my archenemy for the last time. I forced myself to raise my head and meet his gaze.

The evil Prince Thrakhath, heir to the throne of the Kilrathi Empire, looked down on me in triumph. Flanked by nobles from the great clans of Kilrah, surrounded by his underlings, he was obviously savoring his final victory. His voice, however, betrayed little of the excitement he must be feeling; it was, in fact, almost friendly.

"It is a pleasure, Heart of the Tiger, to have finally and completely conquered you."

I was too heartsick to answer. I had failed. How could I face my dead comrades when I joined them on their endless voyage among the stars?

"The Kilrathi, however, are not without mercy," continued the Prince. "We shall grant you the opportunity to plead for your miserable life."

As I stared bleakly at my victorious adversary, a ray of hope penetrated the fog in my mind. Had Fate granted me one last chance? I tried to speak, but only feeble croakings emerged from my parched throat--much to the amusement of my captors. Weakly, I motioned Thrakhath closer, that he might hear my final words clearly.

"You have something to say, monkey?" Barely controlling his emotions, the giant predator stooped, eagerly anticipating my abject entreaties. Summoning all my remaining strength, I found my voice at last.

"I said, YOUR FLY IS OPEN, NUMBNUTS!"

There was a moment of shocked silence. All eyes turned toward the Prince, then followed his own gaze downward. Suddenly the vast chamber exploded in raucous laughter. All around, nobles, menials, and even the toady next to the Prince, were howling with merriment. My guards were laughing helplessly, pointing rudely to their Prince's overexposure, which he was frantically--and so far ineffectually--trying to remedy. One of them poked me in the ribs and gasped, in passable Terran, "Good one, human!" before collapsing to the deck in convulsive laughter.

I nodded in grim acknowledgement. The deafening guffaws echoing through the chamber would be my epitaph. Thrakhath had defeated me, humanity was in chains, but at least I had humiliated my adversary one last--

"Yeeaauugghh!" Needle-sharp claws stabbed through my uniform, piercing my Calvins and penetrating deeply into my flesh! Writhing in agony, I was lifted up, up, transfixed on white-hot spears of hellish pain! Oh, God, why didn't he finish me?

As if reading my thoughts, the enraged fiend lowered me so we were face to face. "Oh, no, maggot, you won't die. Not yet. Not until you've learned that the price of ridicule is eternal agony! Hahahahaha!"

Now the bastard was bench-pressing me. "One, two, one, two..."

"Noooooooo!"

*

I sat up. My heart was pounding, I was bathed in sweat, and I gasped for breath. It was The Dream again, this time worse than ever. I could still feel the pain-echo of claws tearing at my guts, still smell the catnip on Thrakhath's breath. But gradually, as with all dreams, the memory receded. My heart slowed its pounding and my breathing grew less frantic.

I turned my attention to my companions. Had I screamed out loud this time? No, probably not, because they were still asleep. Robin was whimpering in uneasy half-sleep, but as I gently caressed her, she fell back into blissful slumber. I favored Rachel with a soft, loving touch, and she stirred briefly before her dreams reclaimed her.

I lay back in bed, careful not to disturb my loved ones. My thoughts returned to The Dream. Why, years after the war, was I still plagued by it? In my soul I had come to terms with my memories and made peace with the dead. I had everything a man could want: I loved, and I was loved; I had a home, fulfilling work, and a life lived in harmony with nature. For perhaps the first time in my life, I was truly happy.

Maybe that was it. Was it all too good to be true, and I was simply afraid the illusion would end? I stared out the open window at the enveloping darkness. Here, on the ground, the stars were friendly beacons, bringing a measure of warmth and reassurance in the night. In space, however, where I had spent much of my adult life, they were cold and pitiless, and deadly danger often lurked among them.

I sat bolt upright. Of course! I couldn't name it, but in my heart, I knew that unspeakable horror had hatched somewhere out in the endless void. My race was in danger again, from an as-yet unknown source. Any day now, the summons would come, and once again I would take up the sword; once again I would muster all my skill and courage in the service of duty, honor, and all mankind. I felt a stirring in my blood. The dream that had so unnerved me had merely been foreshadowing my unfulfilled destiny!

I fell back on the pillow. "Oh, shit."

Chapter 1

I stopped just inside the tavern door, giving my eyes time to adapt to the darker interior. Maniac's message had requested an urgent meeting, but he was nowhere to be seen. Over in one corner, an old man and a stupid-looking kid were bargaining with a scruffy smuggler and his hairy sidekick. At the coffee machine, a short-haired geek was playing with his monkey. In a booth just to my right, a skinny hooker was having strawberries and champagne with a rich pretty-boy businessman. But no Maniac.

For a moment, I was overwhelmed by a sense of deja vu, but it quickly passed. That had been another bar, a long time ago and far, far away. I shook my head to clear it. I could see well enough now. One drink, and if no Maniac, no Blair. I had another thousand hectares to plant, I was expecting a mail-order delivery any day now, and I had no time to wait for him. I started making my way through the crowd.

On the way to the central island, I selected a tune from the jukebox: rockero from the Celeste system. I hated the stuff, but it reminded me of an old comrade. Via con dios, Vaquero.

I seated myself on a stool. One of the bartenders, a dumb-looking blonde guy, was mixing drinks at the other end. A short, surly, frizzy-haired bitch took the tray and started serving customers. The other waitress, a tall, skinny blonde, was waiting for the dark-haired barkeep to fill her orders. When he was finished with her, he came over to talk with me.

"Howdy, stranger. I'm Scam Alone. I own the bar."

We shook hands. "I'm Chris."

"What'll it be, Chris?"

"I'll have a 'kitchen sink'."

Say, I haven't served one of those since the last Girl Scout convention." Scam quickly mixed seltzer, fruit juices, V-8, and ice, and placed the concoction before me. "You a troop leader?"

"No, a vet." I sampled the drink. Ahhh, that hit the spot.

"No kidding? Say, Doc, I wonder if you could give me some advice. My cat has been acting awfully finicky lately, and--"

"Hey, pal, spare the price of a drink for an old vet?"

"Another pet doctor?" exclaimed Scam. "Must be a convention!" He shook his head and left to attend a new customer.

I turned to look at the derelict who had interrupted us. Boy, this flyer had really gone downhill. He was mangy, malnourished, and he smelled of alcohol. I normally have no use for people who try to hide from reality, but something told me I should help this guy out. I reached for my wallet.

"Here's two credits. Do me a favor, get out of this place and get laid instead." I thought for second, then reached for my wallet again. "Here's two more. Make it a human."

"Thanks, man. I won't forget it." He started for the door with a new spring in his step. Already, he was beginning to look like a new man.

"Wait a sec!" I called. "Do you have a--"

He turned and held one up in his hand. "The price of freedom is eternal vigilance." He waved and was gone.

Scam, having finished with his other customers for the moment, resumed our conversation. "I've seen too many guys like him, Chris. There just aren't enough jobs to go around after all the military cutbacks. You can buy a man's soul or a woman's body for the price of a meal. It's getting to the point-- He stopped and looked at me more closely.

"Say, haven't I seen you somewhere, Doc? On the holovid, maybe? You're..."

"No, I'm not." I hastily paid for my drink and went to look for an obscure booth. Dammit, where was Maniac?

Slap!

I tried to see over to the other side of the bar, where a commotion had broken out. I couldn't see very well, but I heard a shrill woman's voice. "I am NOT an alien! I am a human being!" It was the blonde waitress. Ah, Maniac must be here at last.

The girl stormed past me just as I arrived on the scene. Yup, there was Maniac, stooped over, one hand on his reddened cheek, the other picking two credits off the floor. As he stood up, he looked at me accusingly.

"Did you tell her my real name is 'Todd'?"

I shook my head. "Not this time, Maniac. You blew it all by yourself."

He obviously didn't believe me. "So thanks for nothing, Colonel--or should I say 'Farmer'--Blair."

I slid smoothly into the nearest booth. "It's a peaceful life." I refused to be baited.

Maniac took the seat opposite. He was obviously intent on insulting me, probably to make up for his humiliation with the waitress. "Well, like I always say, you're either an earthworm, or an eagle."

Or a two-meter neon blue magic marker topped with a talking penis. Jeez, what colorblind clown designed the new Confed uniforms?

"Don't knock the lowly earthworm, Maniac. In a way, most 'higher' life forms depend on it. Even your eagle." I couldn't really blame the guy for his ignorance. Even I hadn't appreciated the significance of the "lower" life forms before assuming a life that depended on them.

"Phylum annelida, class oligochaeta--that's 'segmented terrestrial worms' to you, flyboy. Nature's perfect earthmover, unchanged for hundreds of millions of years."

"But--"

"Without earthworm burrows, air wouldn't penetrate the soil. Without worm castings, the soil would lose its fertility and most terrestrial life would eventually perish."

"Colonel, I didn't--" Maniac's eyes were beginning to glaze over.

"In fact, I've been more successful here than most because I imported genuine Terran earthworms to--"

I was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass near the bar entrance. The short waitress was scuffling with a grim-faced tough. Despite his size and muscles, she was holding her own until he pulled out a vicious-looking knife and went for her hair.

Maniac couldn't pass up the chance for another taunting. "Hey, Colonel War Hero, why don't you show us how an earthworm handles something like--Hey! I was kidding!"

I wasn't. Nobody interrupts me when I'm talking about earthworms! Despite my instant reaction, however, I was cool. I had come to Nephritis to nurture life, not take it. I decided on a low-key approach.

By now, the spacer had the bitch by the throat and had sliced off about half her hair (which actually improved her looks). I touched him on the arm. "This little one's not worth the effort. Come, let me get you someth--."

Whoa! This guy was pissed! Instantly his knife was at my neck. "No, let ME get YOU a knife in your throat!" he growled.

Oh, this is going to be fun. "You call that a knife? Now THIS is a knife!" My trusty lightsaber practically leaped into my hand! Whoosh! Voom! The stranger's knife was severed at the haft! He dropped it like a hot potato and took a step back, eyes suddenly full of fear.

Unfortunately, in the act of slicing off the blade, I had also managed to slice a barstool, a table leg, a pitcher of beer, and two arms. Shit!

"Sorry. Sorry, everybody." Damn, I always got carried away with that light--

Footsteps behind me! I whirled, trusty lightsaber splitting the air with lightning! Whoosh! Voom!

"Wow, Ace, that was--Yiieeee!"

Oops. It was only Maniac. Fortunately, no serious damage done, but a scorch mark ran across his uniform at thigh level. Also, to the litter on the floor were now added a whiskey bottle, two more bar stools, and a lamp. Shit!

"Sorry. My fault. Sorry, everyone." I retracted my trusty lightsaber. By now the brawler had vanished, taking the two halves of his knife with him. The waitress was sitting up and massaging her throat.

Scam was kneeling beside her. "You OK, Gnarla?"

She gave him the finger. "I still didn't get my damn tip," she croaked.

To me, Scam said, "Thanks for helping her, Doc." I nodded.

I turned to Maniac. "Sorry, old buddy, I--"

"Forget it," he squeaked. He was slightly bent over, hands protecting his nether regions. He never took his eyes off my trusty lightsaber, even though it was safely on my belt again. "I just came to tell you that you've been recalled to active duty. Meet me at the spaceport tomorrow at 0800." Still hunched over, he hobbled out of the bar. A couple of one-armed patrons hurried after him, no doubt headed for the regen clinic down the street.

I just stood there, looking at the door. So the call had come at last; the quiet life was over. Absently, I pulled out some cash and handed it to Scam. "Sorry about the damage, Scam."

He didn't seem to mind. "Boy, that's some pigsticker you got there, Doc... Hey! Lightsaber! Now I remember! Aren't you the guy from--"

"No, I'm not!" I quickly made my way out of the bar.

*

All the way home, I tried to think of the best way to break the news to Robin and Rachel. We had grown close, the three of us, building a new home for ourselves here on the edge of Confederation space. Now I was being dragged away from them, perhaps forever. How would they take it?

I pulled in at Zeke's place, ostensibly to ask him to look after my farm while I was gone, but also to put off the moment when I had to confront the girls. Zeke was more than willing; he owed me a favor for eradicating his Arcturian megamole infestation. Fortunately, it had only taken one of the two T-bombs I had smuggled off the old Victory. I kept the second in reserve in case of a recurrence. Megamoles were nasty critters.

It was full dark by the time I got home. The sectoids were singing their spring songs and the air was sweet with the scent of blossoms. I didn't pay much attention, though. My thoughts were on the unpleasant scene to come. The lights were on, but the girls were nowhere in sight. They must be waiting for me in back.

Uh-oh. They were both in the kitchen, and I could tell from their attitudes that they knew something was up. Rachel was seated at the table, and Robin was standing quietly near the stove. Neither said anything when I walked in.

Well, I had always been direct with them, so I said it straight out. "Girls, I've been recalled to active duty. I leave tomorrow."

The news hit them hard. I had hoped they'd understand, but they were obviously devastated. I tried to look on the bright side.

"Look, probably all they want is for me and the other reservists in this system to fly local patrol and escort duty until the current troubles die down. I bet I can get back here on weekends to see you, and the whole thing will blow over in a few weeks." I could see that helped, so I threw in a sweetener.

"Zeke will be taking care of the place in the meantime. I know you both like Zeke." Indeed they did. The girls brightened considerably on hearing that news. Now to invoke their sense of duty.

"I need you both to be strong while I'm out there. Knowing you're behind me 100%, I can concentrate on the job at hand and make you proud of me." Good, they were practically standing at attention now. "Can I count on you?"

I had 'em. Rachel replied with an emphatic "Meow!" Not to be outdone, Robin added her own "Woof! Woof!" and wagged her golden tail enthusiastically. I had never been so proud of them.

"My brave girls! Come to daddy!"

"Woof!"

"Meow!"

*

I was packed and ready for bed just in time to catch the end of the news. Apparently the situation was much worse than I had thought. The Great Confederation Dissembly was considering a declaration of war against the Border Worlds. Not surprisingly, Admiral Geoffrey "I'd-sell-your-soul-for- a-press-release" Tolwyn was also getting into the act.

I suppose it was an impressive sight--democracy in action, and all that--but personally, I couldn't get too excited about a bunch of politicians running around in capes. Even my old friend Paladin--excuse me, the Honorable Senator James Taggart--had gotten caught up in the fashion. He stood at the lectern, cape billowing behind him in a breeze from some hidden fan.

"I have asked the Admiral to investigate and report back to us in 60 days." He paused, and fluttered his cape just a bit for emphasis. "In two months, we shall vote on war or peace; same bat-time, same bat-channel!" With a flourish, he raised both arms and spread his cape to its full extent. The other Dissembly officers on the dais stood and did the same, to a standing ovation. Now THAT was impressive!

The holoview shifted to that idiot correspondent, Dam Blather. "This concludes our live coverage of Admiral Tolwyn's speech to the Great Dissembly. Barbie?"

They cut to Barbara Dahl in the TCN newsroom. "Thanks, Dam. And don't call me 'Barbie!' Er, ahem. These next few weeks will tell if there is any hope of resolving the rising tensions between the Border Worlds and the Confederation. Tune in tomorrow night when our political analysts examine the controversy over cape fashions: 'bold statement or pathetic juvenile role-playing?'"

She gathered her papers and looked engagingly at the holocams. "Good evening. This has been the TCN Nightly News. I'm Barbara Dahl."

Damn, that Barbara was cute. With her combination of beauty, poise, charm, and voice, she could make a stock market report sound like V-K Day. She was, in fact, the only reason I still watched the news. Otherwise the stories lately were too depressing.

As I crawled into bed, the girls jumped in with me and settled into their accustomed spots. I began the short petting ritual that normally soothed us all to sleep in minutes. Tonight, however, my thoughts were restless. The political news was worrisome enough by itself, but it also meant that two old and very dear friends could be in deadly danger.

*

The sudden end of the Kilrathi War had left me with a serious personal dilemma: I had fallen in love with two women who were both in love with me. In the last hopeless weeks of the war, when we faced death every day and rules went out the window, this wasn't a problem for any of us. We were desperate for human warmth and comfort, and accepted it on any terms. When peace broke out, however, it seemed somebody would have to be hurt--badly.

Cool, classy Flint, or passionate, earthy Rachel? I just couldn't commit to one and hurt the other, but my delay and uncertainty were hurting all of us. Yet I dithered on until, finally, the choice was made for me. Rachel and Robin, drawn together in their frustration, discovered that they were more interested in each other than they were in me.

Actually, it was more than that. With brutal honesty, I told myself that the real problem was my own compulsion to bury myself on some obscure farm world. Fifteen years of unrelenting war had burned out my own yen for adventure and excitement. I was set on becoming a steward of life instead of a killer, a builder instead of a destroyer. The girls, on the other hand, were still young and full of zest. Their own tragic experiences had only left them all the more determined to see the galaxy and live life to the limit. If they couldn't live that life with me, then they would live it with each other.

We still cared for one another, so at least we parted as friends and without recriminations. To tell the truth, I was too preoccupied with plans for our new life on Nephritis 2 to make much of a fuss. I factored them out of my computer projections as if they were just one more parameter in the model. If only I could have factored them out of my heart as easily.

We tried to keep in touch, but I hadn't received anything from them in a year. The last I'd heard, the girls had pooled their back pay and bought a war surplus transport. They were making an uncertain living hauling cargo and passengers between outlying Confederation planets and the Border Worlds. If the unknown terrorists continued to disrupt frontier commerce, Rachel and Robin could easily be their next victims.

*

My companions were fast asleep. Presently, despite my anxiety, I drifted off to sleep myself, only to dream of Robin and Rachel pursued by pirates, Kilrathi, and insurance salesmen.

End of Chapter 1

Previews from Chapter 2:

"Better use protection, there, Romeo!"

"Maniac! Maniac! Check six! Pirates! Pirates!"

"I want you to seek out and destroy these vermin wherever they operate."

Chapter 2

Next morning, Zeke drove me to the spaceport. He was shy around most humans, so I had him drop me at a distance from the military entrance; I hiked the rest of the way to the guardpost. I was expected, and had no trouble getting in. The guard noticed my out-of-date uniform, but made no comment.

After drawing new uniforms and a flight suit, I headed for the main hangar. Once inside, I followed the sound of Maniac's voice to the maintenance office. He was inside, arguing with the pretty hangar boss.

His finger stabbed the air furiously, pointing at the nearest row of hard- stands just outside the window. "Those are old Hellcats, Chief! Last night in the motel you promised me two Excaliburs!"

"Last night your name wasn't 'Todd,' Major!" She clearly didn't like being associated with a Todd and a motel in front of her colleagues, which didn't improve her temper any.

"Trouble, TODD?"

Maniac whirled at the sound of my voice. "Ace, did you--"

"Guilty." I couldn't hide my self-satisfied smile. "I called last night to ask about the assignment. You weren't in the officers' quarters, so I left a message at dispatch."

"Swell. Look, I'll fill you in when I'm damn good and ready, got it, midget?"

I bristled. I was as sensitive to the difference in our heights as Maniac was to the difference in our ranks, and unfortunately, he knew it. Now he was looking me over intently. "Did you bring that triple-damned lightsaber?"

"No."

"Good!"

The chief tech had been ignoring our byplay, but now she perked up and looked at me more closely. "Lightsaber?" she asked. "Say, Colonel, aren't you--"

"No, I'm not." I hurried out of the office. Maniac helped cover my exit by resuming his futile argument.

I listened outside the door for a moment, then wandered out onto the tarmac. The ground crew was just finishing flight prep on our birds. I chose one and walked over for a closer look. This one had seen its share of action. I noted scorches around the engine exhausts and weaponry, and a couple of dents were still visible where old damage had been repaired. She was a working girl, all right, but she had the clean lines of a thoroughbred. Her crew had cared for her with a pride that was rare on the frontier, and I was careful to compliment the crew chief as I signed for her. He acknowledged with a crisp salute, which I returned.

As the crew hauled their equipment off, I did a slow walkaround, savoring my new baby in all her aspects. She was my first in over two years, and I was in no hurry. I took off my glove and slowly, softly, caressed her silky smooth skin. I spoke to her, gently, to win her trust. She must have no doubts about the man who would guide her through the night's embrace.

"Hello, baby," I whispered. "Daddy's home." Faintly, she purred in reply. To the uninitiated, it might have been just the slight whine of her gyros as they spun up, but I knew better. She was--

"Ya gonna fly that thing, Ace, or ya gonna make love to it? Hahahahaha!"

Damn! Trust Maniac to ruin a tender moment between a man and his machine!

"Better use protection, there, Romeo! Ya don't know who's flown her before! Hahahahaha! Oh, I kill myself."

Barbarian. "You know your problem, Maniac?"

He regarded me contemptuously, helmet carelessly slung in his hand. "No, Sigmund Fraud. No, I don't know my problem!"

"That's your problem." While he was still trying to figure that one out, I climbed into the cockpit and stowed my bag. My thermos of hearty beef broth went into the handy drink holder. I smiled, remembering that the drink holder had been the most popular new feature on the Hellcat V.

We completed preflight, got clearance, and took off for Orlando Depot. Once in space, my anger evaporated. I was thrilled to be in the cockpit again, and pleased to find that I had lost none of my skill. We were also considerably ahead of schedule.

I commed my wingman. "So, Maniac, we'll be patrolling out of Orlando for awhile?" Endless routine patrols with Maniac. What a prospect!

"Hah! You think you were recalled to patrol the boondocks? Oh no, hero, Orlando's just a transfer point. We're headed all the way to Sol and the head honcho himself!"

"Tolwyn?" Damn. If Tolwyn was involved, it was more serious than I thought. The girls would really be pissed at me.

"Hey, Ace, I heard a lot of new jokes while you were down there shoveling fertilizer. Wanna hear some?" Without waiting, he plunged right in. "Why do elephants paint their toes red?"

I rechecked the flight plan. Still three hours to Orlando. Oh, Christ.

*

After two hours of Maniac's non-stop chatter, I was practically in a stupor. In fact, it took me a minute to realize that he had asked me a question.

"Sorry, Maniac. What was that?"

"Clean the shit out of your ears, dirtboy! I said, before I deliver you to the Admiral, I gotta make sure you're still fit to fly. You up for a little tag, hero?" There was an edge to his tone. Obviously he had planned this little "test" and was looking forward to evening up the ego score a bit. If I refused, I'd never hear the end of it.

"You're on!" I replied confidently. "Reconfiguring to virtual mode." Anything was better than listening to his endless repertoire of moron jokes. Besides, if I had lost my edge during the years on the ground, I'd better find out now.

We separated by about 30,000 klicks, then turned head-on. Maniac, of course, instantly went to afterburner. As we hurtled toward each other, I bided my time, then made my move.

"Maniac, what's that on your six?"

"Huh? Where? I don't see anything..." Bzzzt! Bzzzt! "Hey! You dirty--"

Too late. While he was distracted, I blasted him up to 100% virtual damage in no time. "You're a dead duck, eagle!" I crowed. No doubt he'd demand an instant rematch, but in his current emotional state, he'd be easy meat.

"Oh, so you think that's funny, do you? Don't mess with the Maniac!" He flung his fighter back at me.

OK, choose the moment, then dance around--What's that? Uh-oh!

"Maniac! Maniac! Check six! Pirates! Pirates!" I frantically started the reconfigure sequence.

"Ah, you can't fool me with that old trick again, farmboy. I'm gonna kick your--" Bam! Bam! "Yikes! Pirates! Why didn't you warn me, Ace?" He instantly went evasive, but he'd lost half his rear armor already. Though the pirate Razors were low on firepower, there were two of them on Maniac's butt.

Damn, my guns were still arming! I had to get the bandits off his tail somehow or he was space dust! I settled on a collision course with the pirate leader. He turned his guns on me, but we were too close for more than a couple of shots before he pitched up at max rate. I wrenched my ship into a hard turn and headed for his wingman.

Maniac was an idiot, but he could fly. He pulled hard right and dragged the bandit across my sights. Good work, except that my weapons were still cold.

"Shoot, Ace! Shoot!" screamed Maniac. "I'm too young to die! Oh, God, please make him shoot! Oh, no!" A missile was blazing toward him. Decoys sprouted from his ship, and he pulled a panic split-S. The missile broke lock.

Unfortunately, Maniac's maneuver had enabled the nimbler pirate to cut the corner and close in. The Hellcat's shields were sparkling with hits. Any second now the last of the armor would go.

But I had also cut the corner, and now I was hot! I knew the bandit leader was zeroing in on me, but I had this sucker cold. Bang bang bang bang bang! Rapid fire emptied my gun cells and left my target a flying wreck. Just one more--

Whoop! Whoop! Jesus Christ! Missile alarm! Launch IR missile! Burner! Decoy! Pitch up! Still locked! Decoy! Locked! Decoy! Decoy!! Decoy, dammit!!! Max turn! Alarm pitch rising--hit imminent! MOMMY! Reverse turn! Alarm's off! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Burner off. Now where is that--

Bam! Bam! Right on my six, that's where! Corkscrew! Raise shield power! Still holding! Drag him to Maniac! Maniac should be--Jesus Christ, HE'S STOPPED FOR REPAIRS! "Maniac, you pus-licking motherfucker! Get in here!"

"Say again, Ace?" His image was breaking up. "Bad connection." Damn! Damn!

Pirate closing! Bam! Chop throttle! He overshoots! Burn, pirate, burn-- Yes! Burner on! Missile lock! Full throttle! Launch! He's evading, decoys popping! A miss! Cut the corner! Closing! Too fast! Launch! Guns! Bang bang! Hits! Zoom past! Pitch u--KABOOM! Burner off. Chop throttle. Scope is clear. Oh yeah: breathe.

Whew, that was close! My stomach was knotted and I was shaking like a leaf. Damn, I was definitely too old for this shit. The worst part was that I had to pee like crazy. Now where was the--

"Hang on, Ace, I'm coming!"

My hero. "Relax, Maniac, I nailed 'em both." Shit, why wouldn't it open?

"Well, accidents will happen. Haha ha! Hey, did you see those maneuvers I pulled? I was fucking unbelievable! But next time, Ace, don't expect me to be so generous with my kills."

Yeah, right. I was still trying to open the--wait a minute! "Maniac, your comm system is working!"

"Uh, yeah, so it is. I, uh, guess autorepair took care of it."

I scanned his craft. Burn-throughs aft, decoys toasted, burner unrepairable, engines and power plant hit, but no damage forward, where most comm components were installed. Lying bastard. Well, I had more important problems. The buffeting I had taken from the pirate blasters had jammed the convenience pack. My, er, relief bag was unreachable. Damn! Too many water-sensitive components in the cockpit (and in my flight suit) to just let go. I'd have to hold it. Damn, why did I drink all that broth?

"Hey, Ace, my engines are acting up. We'll have to cut our cruise speed to Orlando."

Wonderful. I tried crossing my legs, but it didn't help. Just fucking great!

*

"Orlando just came up on my scope, Ace. What say we extend our layover a bit and hop over to Dizzy World?"

"Maniac!" I was desperately in need of a bathroom, and in no mood for levity.

"OK, OK, it was just a thought... Hey, what's going on?"

Oh no! The station was under attack! I punched afterburner, but we were hopelessly far from the scene. Already, torpedoes were impacting on the station. Three bandits were zooming away from the site. My AI identified them as Avenger heavy fighters, a type used mainly by the Border Worlds Militia.

Successive torpedo impacts had fractured the station into several sections. Outgassing and secondary explosions in the semi-intact fragments left little hope for survivors.

"Son of a bitch!" exclaimed Maniac. "There were three thousand people on that crate!" I, too, mourned the loss of the station; it had the only bathroom for millions of klicks.

The bandit leader was hailing us. "Welcome, Colonel Blair." His voice was strangely familiar, but I couldn't place it. "Welcome to yet another Border World victory. Hahahaha!" He stopped, practically inviting me to attack.

You're on, asshole! My fuel was nearly gone, but I stayed on burner. At medium range, I launched an IR and cut burner to gain maneuverability. If he evaded the missile, I'd turn inside and nail him all the faster.

Instead, the bandit popped a mine, waited an instant, then hit his burner. The mine exploded a second later and he caught the blast wave on his rear shields, using the impact to boost his speed far beyond his craft's design max. In seconds, he had surfed out of detector range. My missile, of course, was left in the dust.

It took me several seconds to remember to close my mouth, and even longer to remember to breathe. That was the most astonishing feat of flying I had ever seen! It required split-second timing, perfect rear shield aspect, and-- even more impressive--suspension of the physical laws that prevented shock wave propagation in a vacuum. That was one impressive stunt, all right!

Maniac had a more immediate concern. "We're fucked, Ace. Nearly out of fuel and nowhere to go." Being Maniac, he couldn't resist one last dig, even in the face of death. "But then you always knew you'd have a SHORT life, right? Haha ha!"

Pond scum. "We'll be all right, Maniac. Dizzy World is nearby."

"You think I didn't check that, weed-eater? Our gas still won't take us into comm range."

"Just once, Maniac, use that sponge you call a brain! A tourist mecca always has tourist traps. Orlando's not the only one around here." I checked my Ayn Rand McNally Atlas, shrugged, and said, "See? Blueprint Station is just a few hundred thousand klicks over that way. Form on my wing."

For once, Maniac obeyed.

*

"Welcome to Blueprint, gentlemen. You have clearance."

Thank God. My right leg was jumping like a jackhammer, trying to convince my bladder it wasn't filled to bursting. My bladder wasn't fooled for a second.

*

I staggered a little as I came out of the men's room. I had just barely held out, but it had taken the last of my strength. I had to sit down for a few minutes before I rejoined Maniac. We had left our fighters in the care of the only Confed mechanic on the station, and now Maniac was presumably trying to rent a civilian shuttle on a military priority.

The station was bustling. With Orlando gone, all the tourists going to or coming from Dizzy World had been re-routed here. Naturally, the hotels, eateries, and vehicle renters were making the most of their temporary good fortune. At one tour counter there was a hand-lettered sign proclaiming

SEE THE SPECTACULAR

ORLANDO RUINS!

19 CREDITS!

The line of tourists was already well down the corridor.

I shook my head sadly. This was the kind of crap I had tried to get away from on Nephritis 2. Of course, I had cashed in on my celebrity after the war ("Blair knows spaceball!") but I had quit as soon as I had enough to buy my spread.

Well, enough reminiscing. I had to find Maniac before he got into trouble.

I found him at the Mertz Rent-A-Shuttle, predictably mired in another useless dispute. The clerk was trying to be polite, but he was clearly nearing the end of his patience.

"Look, I told you, Major," he said with forced courtesy. "With all the extra tourists coming through here, we just don't have any more vehicles, even for the military."

I interrupted before Maniac could jam his foot any further into his mouth. "I'm Colonel Christopher Blair. What's the problem here, young man?"

"Ohmygod! The Heart of the Tiger!" The clerk hastily consulted his console. "Er, no problem, sir. I see we do have one available after all." I looked smugly at Maniac. His answering scowl would have curdled milk.

*

Maniac and I took turns flying the shuttle. From Nephritis it was several jumps to Sol, with long hauls between jump points. Fortunately, under this arrangement we spent very little time together, which gave me a welcome respite from Maniac's witty repartee. After the jump from Proxima, however, we were on the last leg, so I felt it was safe to join Maniac at the controls.

For a change, Maniac was in a thoughtful mood.

"Who was that surfer guy? How did he know your name? Did you see that stunt he pulled? And you call ME a hotdog!"

No, Maniac, I call you a halfwit. "He was doing more than just showing off, Maniac. That was both his signature and a challenge. This guy's tired of hiding; he wants to take on Confed openly now."

"Maybe that explains the pirate attack, Ace. No way they could hope to kill us, two-on-two. But they delayed us enough that we were still in space instead of on the station like sitting ducks. Looks like they wanted witnesses this time."

I stared back at Maniac in astonishment. Was he finally growing a brain at the top of his spinal cord? I wasn't so sure the pirates couldn't have taken us, but otherwise he seemed right on target. Two trained pilots and certified heroes would now report that four Border World-manufactured vessels, openly proclaiming Border World allegiance, had destroyed the station.

But why so blatant? Was it a too-obvious attempt by some other party to blame the Border Worlds? Or was that what the BWs wanted us to think? Did they get our flight plan from moles within Confed, and if so, were renegade Confeds behind the whole terror campaign? And why were pirates aiding the terrorists? I had far too many questions, and no answers.

We debated the issue fruitlessly until we were on final approach to Confed HQ. Maniac was still handling the controls, so I had a rare opportunity to do some sightseeing.

"Hey, is that the Victory?" I picked out her familiar silhouette against Saturn's disk. Our old ship appeared to be in the same orbit as HQ, about a hundred thousand klicks ahead of it. She was surrounded by civilian shuttles and runabouts.

"Yeah, it's an orbital museum now. A relic of the war, like some farmers I know." He looked at me mockingly. "I'll bet they have a plaque right over your bunk."

Ha ha, very funny. Actually, I was wondering if they ever found that pile of used condoms behind the gunnery console, where Flint and I had most of our trysts. I didn't want some kid in a school tour group to run across them.

"That reminds, me, Maniac. What did you ever do with that huge Playboy collection of yours?" Maniac just smiled and pointed to the aft compartment. Next to my duffel bag were four more with magazine-shaped bulges.

"Travel light, don't you?" I asked sarcastically. He nodded, grinning proudly.

*

There was no one at the console outside Admiral Tolwyn's office, but its AI recognized me and sent me right in. I entered with some trepidation. My wing had won the Kilrathi War after Tolwyn's brainchild had failed miserably. He had been gracious enough at the time, but I suspected the egotistical Admiral secretly resented the fact that I--not he--was the war's biggest hero.

I was immediately dazzled by the spectacle of Tolwyn's huge, lavishly decorated office, which was unfortunate, because I failed to notice the stairs. Flailing desperately to keep my balance, I stumbled down the steps and bumped into a side table on which an expensive oriental vase was displayed. I juggled it for a second before tactfully announcing myself by dropping it--and me--on the deck. Loudly.

Tolwyn was standing in front of the large window, dictating to someone I couldn't see. At the sound of the shattering vase, he turned and looked at me curiously. I jumped up and hastened toward him, apologizing as best I could. "Sorry, sir, I guess I wasn't--"

"Still the same old Blair," he said, smiling. He met me halfway and shook my hand enthusiastically. "How are you, my boy?"

Huh?

The Admiral patted my tummy paternally. "I see the pastoral life agrees with you." He smiled again at my obvious bemusement. "I'm envious."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Admiral Tolwyn?" I blurted. I couldn't help it. What had gotten into the old goat?

Instead of getting annoyed, he chuckled indulgently. "And the same droll sense of humor, I see."

By then, though, I wasn't listening to him. From my new vantage point, I had spotted a voluptuous blonde ensign by the near edge of the huge window. She bore an uncanny resemblance to--Yes! She was the former Playmate who played Rachel in the recent "Return of the Tiger" holovid--the one about our last tour on the TCS Victory. I had been hired as technical advisor, but I quit when I learned they were portraying Hobbes as a dishonorable alley cat. Her part, unfortunately, had been cast after I left.

The Admiral misinterpreted my fascinated gaze. He waved his arm toward the huge new carriers framed in the window.

"Magnificent, aren't they?"

"Yessir." Oh God, yes. Round, firm, yet soft and delicate to the t--

"I'll bet you wish you'd had one of those during the war, eh, Colonel?"

"Indeed I do, sir." Ohmygod! She was bending over to pick up her pencil! She looked back at me, parted her lips, and slowly stood back up. Her non-reg microskirt rose tantalizingly, then slid back. God in Heaven, I don't think she's wearing any--

"They would have put the fear of God into the Kilrathi," continued the Admiral.

"They certainly put the fear of God into me, sir." Please, please, God, don't let me die before I touch them, just once. She shifted her weight to the other foot, subtly altering the angle of her cleavage. Suddenly I had a terrific craving for warm milk.

With a start, I realized the admiral was looking at me expectantly. I quickly improvised. "But without a man, they just go to waste, sir."

He seemed pleased by my response. "Quite. Quite right, Colonel. It is the men, isn't it?" The ensign seemed to agree. She was slowly licking her lips, never taking her eyes off me.

Tolwyn suddenly grew serious. Turning to the ensign, he said, "You may go now, Chastity." The Admiral walked over toward his desk. Chastity quickly blew me a kiss while her boss's back was turned, then bounced up the stairs and out the door.

"Huh?" I was still staring at the door. Reluctantly, I turned my attention to the Admiral. "I'm sorry, sir, what was that?"

"I said, reports are that you ran into some trouble on your way here."

"Yes, sir." I sketched out our encounter with the pirates and the Surfer.

"Unfortunately, Colonel, your experience is typical of the war of piracy, sabotage, and terror that has been waged against us these past months."

"You suspect an organized campaign, then, Admiral?"

"Whether this is--as I suspect--a well-planned, coordinated conspiracy, or merely a symptom of the transitional times we live in, we cannot afford to ignore it. The price of our freedom is eternal vigilance."

"If you want me to gather evidence to confirm or refute your conspiracy theory, I have to warn you, sir: I'm no detective."

"No, you're much more use to me as Confed's best Wing Commander. I'm putting you back in the cockpit, where you'll be reunited with an old friend: the thrill of battle."

Unfortunately, the only "old friend" I cared about at the moment was screaming at me to go find that ensign.

"Colonel," the Admiral went on, unaware of my misgivings. "I want you to seek out and destroy these vermin wherever they operate. In the bright flame of combat, the true enemy--if he exists--will be revealed. Then we'll concentrate our might and destroy him." He pointed to the new carriers outside the window.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bottom line: once again Blair carries Tolwyn's spear and writes his headlines. Damn!

"Ensign Behlte has your orders, Colonel." Tolwyn made his thumb and forefinger into a gun, pointed it at me, and said cheerily, "Catch you later!"

Jeez, I thought on the way out, the old man has really gone off the deep end this time.

*

I found the Admiral's aide sitting behind her console. Something seemed to be troubling her.

"Um, Colonel, do you think they might make another holovid based on your exploits in this campaign? You know, like 'A New Tiger', 'The Tiger Strikes Back' and 'Return of the Tiger?'"

"It's possible."

"And do you think you might be hired as technical advisor again?"

I saw where this was going. "I'll fight tooth and nail for the job."

That seemed to please her. "And you'll have some say in casting the roles?"

"I will this time."

She smiled and stood up. "Here are your orders, Colonel," she said, handing me a sealed envelope. "But it's very important you understand your assignment thoroughly, so I'm going to explain the orders in detail. Orally. Follow me, please."

"Anywhere, Ensign." Thank you, God! Thank you, thank you...

End of Chapter 2

Previews from Chapter 3:

"Oh my! You are a frisky one, aren't you, Colonel?"

"Our job here is to ensure the safety of civilian traffic and installations, then seek out and destroy the pirates."

"Hoooeeeey! Die, pig!"

Chapter 3

From Confed HQ, it was just a short hop to my new assignment, the carrier Lexington. She and her escorts were surrounded by a bustling horde of supply craft and shuttles. The task force was apparently making final preparations for departure.

We finally got clearance and carefully eased our way onto the crowded deck. I debarked from the shuttle and headed across the Lexington's flight deck. At the foot of the stairs leading to Flight Control, a group of rookie pilots was gathered around Maniac, who was regaling them with stories about his favorite pilot.

"... and then there was the time I took on three Darkets in an Arrow. I came up on the trailing--"

"Look!" cried one of the rookies. "It's the Heart of the Tiger!" Immediately they swarmed around me, all talking at once.

"Let me take your bag, sir!"

"Wow, THE Colonel Blair."

"It's an honor to meet you, sir."

"Tell us a story, sir!"

I tried to be polite to them. "Thank you, but-- Please, we're all just pilot-- No, I can't think of any stories right--" Whoops! Distracted as I was by my admirers, I nearly collided with a woman waiting at the foot of the stairs.

"Sorry, I guess I wasn't..." Whoa. She was a comely lass; soft brown hair, hazel eyes, dressed all in white, and built like a brick--

"Hi, I'm the Assistant Medical Officer, Lieutenant Disch." She held out her hand.

I took it in mine, and squeezed warmly. "You certainly are, Lieutenant." She smiled at my little witticism. Yes, this one definitely had possibilities.

I turned to address my brood of fans. "Um, why don't you people go on ahead and get settled? I'll be up in the lounge presently. I want to discuss, er, recent medical developments with the di--ah, Lieutenant Disch, here."

"See you, Colonel."

"I'll drop your stuff at your quarters, sir."

"Bye, Colonel."

"Later, sir."

A couple of them gave me knowing winks as they passed. Maniac tried to engage their attention again as they went by, but he was having no luck.

The medic was blushing as I continued to hold her hand. "Er, Colonel Blair, since you've been off flight duty for so long, I need to give you a complete, um, physical before I can re-certify you." She tried--not very hard--to retrieve her hand.

Hmm, a physical, eh? I could probably wangle my way out of it, but I had a feeling this was one doctor's visit I would enjoy.

"I have to put on a little show for the rookies, Lieutenant--it's expected--but I'll get away as soon as I can. About an hour from now?"

"That will be fine." Her smile was dazzling. I finally let her have her hand back so she could write on her clipboard. She shot a glance at Maniac, who was still harassing the last of the rookies, and leaned close to whisper in my ear.

"Is that hunk over there really the famous Maniac?" she asked. Say, was there a slight tremor of excitement in her voice?

I whispered back, "Yes, but his real name is 'Todd.'"

She giggled. "Really?" I nodded. "Forget it." She made another note on the clipboard.

Whoops, speak of the devil. Maniac sneaked up behind Disch and pinched her derriere. "Hey, when's MY appointment, Doc?"

"Eek!" She jumped and spun around, one hand covering her wounded dignity. Her frown, however, quickly turned into a smile, and she stepped very, very close to the amorous pilot. When she spoke, her tone was inviting.

"Mmmmm, maybe we can start right here. Let's just test your 'reflexes' first, big boy." Her hand slid down to his crotch, which she began rubbing gently.

Maniac couldn't believe his luck. His eyes glazed over and he leaned closer to Disch, his lips searching for hers. "Oh, baby, my 'reflexes' are doing just-- AAUUUGGGHHH!" Maniac doubled over in agony, falling on one of his duffel bags and spilling magazines all over the deck. He writhed in the middle of his precious collection, moaning and clutching his injured ego.

Briskly, Lieutenant Disch made a final note on her clipboard. "You pass. Todd." She reached into her breast pocket for a small bottle, shook a pill out of it, and handed the pill to me. "Allow the patient another minute to absorb the full benefit of the treatment, then give him this. See you in an hour, Colonel."

*

I left poor Maniac in the care of a bemused deckhand before heading up to Flight Control. I knew the Lexington's commander, and I was anxious to renew our friendship. With any luck he'd be overseeing operations in Flight Control.

Bingo. Captain Eisen was standing at the window, watching the activity on the vast flight deck below. He stood tall and proud, occasionally tapping that stupid swagger stick of his against his leg.

As I approached, he turned to greet me with his familiar paternal smile. His handshake was warm and welcome.

"Colonel, do you remember our bet?" He was chuckling with amusement.

Bet? Which one? "Um, you mean the one about who'd be first to nail that cute little--"

"Er, no, no, not that one." He glanced uneasily at his subordinates, who were studiously concentrating on their tasks. OK, another bet, then.

"Well, Captain, was it the one about whose is longer, yours or--"

"No! I mean, no, heh heh, quit kidding around, Colonel." The ensign at the loadout console was struggling to stifle her amusement, to little avail. The deck operations officer had a sudden coughing fit before regaining control under Eisen's glare.

"Ah-ahem! So, what do you think of the ship, Colonel?" Eisen asked, switching to a safer subject.

"She's certainly more impressive than the old Victory. Looks like they've been taking good care of you, Captain."

A shadow came over his face. "Yes, they've been... taking care of me."

I sensed his uneasiness. "Trouble, Captain?"

"Well, it's just that..." Clearly reluctant to burden me, he finally blurted it out. "It's just that the barbecue menu on this tub sucks, compared to the Victory. I haven't had a decent meal in months."

Poor Captain Eisen. Now that he mentioned it, he was looking thinner than the last time I'd seen him. "Well, Captain, I guess the price of command is--"

"--eternal hunger. But that's my problem. You look around, get settled, get your fighter wing organized. I want everything shipshape by the time we reach the Hellespont system tomorrow."

"Aye aye, Captain." We saluted, and he left for the bridge. I wanted to ask him again which bet he'd had in mind, but he didn't seem comfortable with the topic. I couldn't really blame him; at fifty credits a centimeter, that last bet had cost him quite a bit of money. Er, I had cheated, of course.

*

Before heading for the lounge, I logged myself into the ship's computer. To my surprise, the Lexington's AI had a very pleasant female voice. It reminded me of Barbara.

"Stand by for retina scan, please... searching... Colonel Blair! It's an honor, sir. You have a long and distinguished... Just a minute... Just a minute... Hey! You're the guy from--"

"No, I'm not! Now proceed!" Damn computers thought they knew everything.

"Oh, very well." If I didn't know better, I'd say the AI was sulking. "Same callsign for this tour? Sir? Or will you apply some of that uniquely human originality I keep hearing about but can never, ever hope to match?"

Damned uppity AI. But, sarcasm aside, it was right; I was a farmer now, and my old callsign was no longer appropriate. Let's see... Aha! Out of the mouths of idiots... "Lex, my callsign for this tour will be 'Earthworm.'"

"'Earthworm?' 'Earthworm?' My, how very...creative of you." Did I detect a hint of mockery? "Privileges activated, Colonel. Welcome aboard. Earthworm."

"Thanks. I think." Since when did Confed's AIs come with built-in sass?

*

There were quite a few people waiting for me in the officer's lounge. Most were kids fresh out of the Academy or advanced training schools, but I spotted a few veterans as well. In fact, that guy sitting alone in the middle of the lounge had shot two cats off my tail in the Kilrah system. Well, the others could wait. This pilot was family.

"Hoho, look what the solar winds blew in! Got you, too, did they, Colonel?"

"Vagabond." I sat down and shook his hand warmly. "I thought you'd given up the nomad life."

"So did I, Colonel. You remember I was going to make the Victory my home? Got a cushy job as assistant curator of the Victory Museum. They even let me sleep on board--kind of a living exhibit, I guess." We both smiled at that one.

"But they played me for a sucker. I didn't read the fine print on the con- tract. Like for instance, the 'reserve activation' clause."

I chuckled in sympathy. "Tolwyn strikes again. We've been here before, my friend."

"Ain't it the truth?" He laughed ruefully. "You know the funny part? I actually liked museum work. Me, the mad bomber and flying assassin! A student of history!"

He picked up his drink and contemplated it thoughtfully. "Maybe telling the tourists about the war was my way of making peace with my past. I don't know. I do know I liked showing the kids why their parents had to go off to war, and why the ones who came back were never the same afterward." He flashed me a mischievous smile. "I even liked polishing that plaque over your bunk."

Hmm, I definitely had to take Maniac to that museum some day.

He took a sip of his drink. "It wasn't all fun, though. Sometimes I'd be setting up an exhibit and then I'd remember how one of my buddies had died in that very compartment. Sometimes I had to sort through forty years of trash, looking for 'historically significant artifacts.' And, speaking of trash, you'll never believe what I found behind the main console in gun--"

"Whoa, is that the time?" I pushed my chair back hastily. "Sorry, Vagabond, I gotta put on a show for the newbies before I see the medics. Talk to you later." Much later.

*

As I approached, the youngsters gathered around expectantly. I leaned against the bar with an air of sophisticated disinterest. The bartender noticed me and came over to take my order.

"Welcome to the Lexington, Colonel...?"

OK, be nonchalant. "Blair. Chris Blair." I heard a few sighs at the back of the crowd.

"Oh, wow, it's really you! Your money's no good here, sir! My name's Pilsner. What can I get for you?"

I gave my order with the assurance of a man who always expects--and gets--the best of everything. "Bugs Bunny. Very dry. Shaken, not stirred." Oh's and ah's from the peanut gallery. The people in back jockeyed around for a better view.

The bartender quickly returned with my drink, and deferentially placed it in front of me. A hush fell over the onlookers as I reached for the glass. The air was thick with tension. Pilsner looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

I sniffed cautiously. Ahhh, robust veggy bouquet. Carefully, I took a sip and swished it over my tongue. Yes, first-class carrot juice, fresh and lively. The grapefruit juice was a bit tart for my taste, but I had to admit it added an amusing impertinence. I nodded to the bartender and took another sip.

There were sighs of relief all around. Over to my right, a pretty young engineering ensign actually fainted. I thought for a second the barkeep would join her on the floor, but he pulled himself together admirably. He had no time to savor his success, however, as he was immediately deluged with orders for carrot juice cocktails.

I held court at the bar until it was time for my appointment at the infirmary. I enjoyed telling stories, and the kids were a wonderful audience. I noticed, however, a somewhat disturbing tendency toward hero worship among them, and an underlying respect for authority that was unusual in cocky new pilots. Was the Academy now demanding blind obedience in place of initiative?

Oops, time to go. "Sorry, people, but I have an appointment." I drained my glass and set it back on the bar. "We'll do this again, I promise."

"Aaaawwww."

"Do you have to go, Colonel?"

"It was fun, sir."

"A genuine privilege, sir."

"See you in the ready room, sir."

As I started for the door, a girl--the engineer who had fainted earlier--ran up and pressed a pair of panties into my hand. She held on with a death grip and gazed at me with worship in her eyes.

Shit, a pilot groupie. Nevertheless, I gently coaxed my hand out of hers and gallantly stuffed her garment under my uniform next to my heart. I took her hand again, bowed, and kissed it. A smile, a gentle press, and I was gone.

Her girlfriends gathered round her, enviously staring at her hand. As I left the lounge, I heard her declare, "I'll never wash that hand again!" She burst into tears.

*

"Whew!"

Lt. Disch was still a bit out of breath as she zipped up her uniform. "Well, Colonel, you passed your physical with flying colors."

"So did you, Taysti." I finished zipping up my own uniform. "Several times."

She blushed, but I could tell she was greatly pleased. She tried to cover up by consulting her checklist.

"Let's see now: physical workup, semen sample..." Another blush. "...rectal probe, blood sample... Hmm, I guess all that's left is the urine specimen."

Oops. I'd only had the one drink at the bar. Ever since the Orlando episode, I'd been careful not to overstrain my poor aging bladder. "I'm sorry, Taysti, but I'm afraid I'm not, er, up to it right now."

"That's OK." She smiled her dazzling smile. "You can come in and leave it any time. And I do mean any time." She set down her clipboard and walked over to me. She tenderly took my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine.

Uh-oh! That other girl's panties were lying on the instrument tray behind Lt. Disch! Thinking fast, I swept her up in a passionate embrace and bent her over backward until I could just reach the panties with my free hand. I stuffed them in a back pocket as we came up for air.

"Oh, my! You are a frisky one, aren't you, Colonel?" Still a bit dazed, she tried to fix her disarrayed hair. "We'll have to put all that energy to good use, won't we, sir?"

"My thoughts exactly, Lieutenant." I fingered the panties in my pocket. It occurred to me that the ship's engineers routinely handled energy on a cosmic scale.

*

Organizing the new wing proved to be an easier task than I had anticipated. My department heads and squadron leaders were all long-service professionals, and they had completed most of the work before my belated arrival. Our meetings went smoothly; their organization needed only minor fine-tuning. Although we had a large contingent of rookies, Confed Personnel had ensured, for once, that we had enough vets to provide the needed guidance.

There was Primate, for example, a seasoned pilot with whom I had flown before. He was expert and fearless, although out of the cockpit he was a notorious eccentric. Rodent and Marsupial I knew by reputation. Pachyderm and Ungulate were new to me, but their files were full of citations from their previous commanding officers. Quality, Hippie, Vero... All names I knew well. The Lexington was already beginning to feel like home.

The TCS Lexington was considerably bigger than the Victory, carrying about 70 fighters plus specialized craft such as shuttles and jammers. Currently we were equipped with four Hellcat and two Longbow squadrons. Again, I was fortunate to have enough senior officers that I wasn't forced to give Maniac a squadron command. Instead, I made him deputy wing commander, where I could keep an eye on him. More important, I could bury him in paperwork and thus minimize the time he spent flying.

I was confident the wing would perform well. I was determined, however, to ease the rookies in slowly. After all, this was more or less peacetime; we needn't throw new pilots in over their heads as we had against the Kilrathi.

We would hit the jump point to Hellespont early the next morning. I sent my people to bed and tried to set a good example by hitting the sack myself. Sleep, however, eluded me. A couple of things I'd noticed that day just didn't fit. For instance, why was Confed recruiting so many rookies when experienced pilots roamed the streets back home? And what were we doing with obsolescent fighters when Confed's factories had been turning out advanced models for over two years?

I wrestled with these questions, but I got nowhere. Finally I got out my palmtop computer and logged in to the Galaxy-Girding Gargantuweb. I hadn't surfed the GGG in quite a long time, and I had much to catch up on. I spent a short time at the ship's home G-spot, then zipped right to the agricultural commodities exchange. As usual, the steady stream of prices put me to sleep in minutes.

*

I had the whole wing on alert for the final jump. Since we were aiming to emerge in Hellespont about 100,000 klicks from the jump buoy, an ambush was unlikely, but I wanted to impress on my new pilots that we were now in a combat zone. First Squadron (Hellcats) was ready for immediate launch; the others could be spotted and launched quickly. Maniac was monitoring operations from Flight Control. Given the presence of two female ensigns, I spent most of my time monitoring Maniac.

As it turned out, the jump was routine. Lexington and her escorts synchronized jump engines and popped through on schedule. With such a large mass of ships going through, the transition was smooth as silk. Once in the Hellespont system, I supervised launching of the CAP and the first routine patrols. Just as the last Longbow cleared the deck, Lex called me to the briefing room.

*

I arrived just in time to see Captain Eisen swat his aide on the top of the head with his swagger stick. "This is the brain case, man!" he yelled. "Use it!"

Lt. Naismith saluted, said "Yes, sir!" and left, rubbing his head.

Same old Eisen. I met him at the holotank, being careful to stay out of range of that damn swagger stick. The Captain, however, seemed to have calmed down.

"Shall we cut to the chase, Colonel? For over a year now, Hellespont has had a low level of pirate activity: charging tribute, occasional raids for supplies, and ransoming captured prisoners and ships. Lately, however, a new bunch has moved in. Since then, there's been a sharp increase in terrorism, murder, and just plain destruction."

I shot a surprised look at Captain Eisen. He nodded grimly.

"Yes, Colonel, that's unusual for pirates: no profit in it. In any case, commerce in this system is nearly at a standstill. Our job here is to ensure the safety of civilian traffic and installations, then seek out and destroy the pirates."

The Captain brought up a holoview of the Hellespont system. He highlighted the populated planets and several jump points.

"I want your wing to cover the routes between these jump points and the main planets. Meanwhile, our escorts, destroyers Ultima, Privateer, and Crusader--"

"Excuse me, sir?"

The Captain smiled at my bewilderment. "Yes, of course, you've been out of the picture, haven't you, Colonel? With all the defense cutbacks, and so much of the remaining budget going to Tolwyn's Strategic Readiness Agency, naval procurement has been cut to the bone. To get any new ships at all, we've had to turn to some, er, patriotic civilian sponsors. For example, our escort group was partly funded by Origami Systems, Inc. You know, 'We create--'"

"'--official guides.' Yes, I'm familiar with Origami, Captain." Hmm, that probably explained our equipment shortage. The Hellcat, most vanilla of Confed's fighters, was also the cheapest to build and operate. The Longbow, a solid but basic design, was our least expensive strike fighter.

"As I was saying, our escorts will cover these sectors." He highlighted three areas in the system display.

"That leaves Lexington with a vast area to cover, sir. My fighters will be spread awfully thin."

The Captain looked at me intently. "That's what I want the pirates to think. Your escorts should be weak enough to draw them out, but strong enough to fry their asses when they attack. Can you walk that tightrope, Colonel?"

Oh, just fucking brilliant, Captain. Now we're live bait. "Yes, sir."

He smiled. "Then hop to it, Colonel." I flinched when he raised his swagger stick, but he was just using it to salute. I returned the salute and got out of there. Damn, I wished he wouldn't do that.

*

Confed HQ wasn't wasting any time. Immediately after our arrival in the Hellespont system, they started sending the backlogged cargo ships through. Within hours, all my Hellcat pilots not on CAP were committed to convoy duty.

Maniac and I were juggling escort schedules in Flight Control when we received the order to ferry a single fast transport inbound from the Gallipoli system. It was carrying medical supplies urgently needed on Bosporus III.

Damn. Now that our escort operations had settled into a routine, I could be spared for flight duty, but the transport needed a two-fighter escort, minimum. I looked over at Maniac, who was leaning on the loadout console, flirting with Ensign Myte again. No way. Fortunately, Primate was available, having been scrubbed from the sensor array CAP mission due to a mechanical fault in his fighter.

"Ensign Myte!"

She must have jumped a half-meter. "Yes sir!"

"Pull Maniac's tongue out of your ear and get me the status of Captain McCall's Hellcat! Maniac!"

"What? What?" He was nursing his nose, which Ensign Myte had banged with her head.

"Go get Primate and have him meet me in the ready room in his flight gear. And stop by the galley and get me two bananas."

"What? So now I'm your errand boy? Jeez, for this I went to the Academy?" His grumbling faded as he disappeared down the corridor.

Ensign Myte reported back. "Sir, Primate's fighter is ready to go! I've got the techs working on a spare for you. Loadout is six IR each."

"Good work, Dinah. Download the nav data to both fighters. I gotta go get into my zoot suit." And visit the head.

*

The deck crews had just finished prepping our Hellcats when Primate and I stepped out onto the flight deck. I tossed Primate his customary preflight banana and walked over to my bird. The crew chief came to attention and saluted crisply.

"Chief Tech Rench, Monk E.! Honored to have you aboard, sir!"

"Relax, Chief." I shook his hand. "Why don't you introduce me to the rest of your team, here?" I had gone over their files the day before, but I wanted to associate warm bodies with the cold facts.

"Yes, sir. This is my wife, Sockette, our ordnance tech. She knows every fighter weapon in Confed's arsenal." We shook hands. The streak of grease on her chin reminded me of Rachel. Wow, so did her smile.

"This handsome fellow is our mechanical tech, Phillip Driver. We all call him 'Stu.' He still holds the fleet record for a Hellcat power plant replacement." Whoa, big guy, strong grip.

"Our electrical tech, Scopes. Othello here is the best troubleshooter on board. Hell of a card player, too." Hmm, I'd have to introduce this guy to Vagabond.

My personal impressions reinforced the opinion I'd formed from their file data: this was a good team.

"Well, Chief, looks like I'm in good hands. Thanks." I took his clipboard and signed for the ship.

"Take care of yourself, sir. Broken Hellcats are a lot easier to fix than broken Colonels."

Not exactly Rachel's usual "Come back to me, stallion," but it would do. I climbed into the cockpit and started pre-flight.

*

Primate and I reached the jump point just as the transport popped in. If their comm officer was disappointed by the size of his escort, he didn't show it.

"This is the Amontillado. Nav computers sync'd, Earthworm. Let's head for the Bosporus jump point."

This was going to be a long trip. Primate and I would have to refuel at the new surveillance array near our destination. Well, I was ready: I had checked my convenience pack twice before departure.

*

We were about half an hour from the jump point, and at our closest approach to the system's second asteroid belt. So far the flight had been routine. I began to wonder if we had scared the pirates out of the system.

Suddenly the flight wasn't routine any more.

"We got company! Multiple contacts to port!" Primate was alert, as always. I was 5,000 klicks farther away, but I got 'em a second later.

"Roger, Primate, I see. Stay put for now."

At this distance, our sensors couldn't make out much against the asteroids. The range was closing rapidly, however, and soon we knew what we were up against.

"Amontillado, make tracks for the jump point. We got four Razors inbound." Captain Eisen's "tightrope" was about to be put to the test.

"Roger, Earthworm. Good luck." He sounded calm, but he wasn't fooling me. If we screwed up, his ship was dead meat, and he knew it.

"Let's take 'em, Primate. Form on my wing."

We turned into the pirates and went to full speed. Out of long habit, I began steeling myself mentally against the expected enemy taunts. The Kilrathi had perfected the taunt into a deadly weapon of war, and only the strongest self-discipline could defeat it. Any second now... any second...

"Hoooeeeey! Die, pig!"

"Hoo hoo, give it some juice, grandma!"

Uh, excuse me?

Is that the best these guys can do? These barbaric denizens of the void? The merciless scourge of the space lanes? Why, they couldn't out-taunt a Kilrathi kitten!

Despite the disparity in numbers, I felt a surge of confidence. I had learned my art from a Ninth Degree Master of the Taunt, Ralgha nar Hhallas himself! I had reduced Kilrah's best warriors to tears with a single zinger! Time to send these rubes to school.

"Hey, Gomer, you got any naked pictures of your mother?"

"Huh? 'Course not!" Hah! To my expert ear, the pirate leader's weakness was ludicrously obvious.

"You want to buy some?" I asked innocently.

"Aaaaarrrrgggghhh! I'll git yew, Confed pervert!" Blinded by rage, he punched afterburner and came straight at me.

"Launch, Primate!" I yelled. I began firing at the edge of effective blaster range. Between his fury and the distraction of my gunfire, the pirate missed his missile warning and blew into space dust.

"OOOeeeOOOeeeOeeOOOoooo!"

Damn, Primate's victory yodel was hard on the ears! "Cover me, Primate!" As wingman, Primate's duty was to cover my tail. " And turn down your volume!"

"Yes, sir!"

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Fuck! Missiles! Head into 'em! I danced through a barrage of blaster fire, trying to track the missiles on my HUD. My heart was in my throat. Wait, wait, NOW! Decoy! Roll port and pull for your life!

Whoopwhoopwhoop--silence! Missed me, cocksuckers! The pirates had rushed past and now the trailer was in my sights. For just a second, he hesitated, and that was all it took. Burner! Closing! Shield power down! Bang bang bang bang bang KABOOM! Burner off.

Shit! They were headed for the transport! Evidently they had decided to shoot and scoot. The transport's shields were highly resistant to most fighter weapons, but a missile barrage could crack them, especially astern.

Primate had damaged one, but the other was after the Amontillado on full burner. I'd never catch him. Frantically, I wracked my brain for some useful tidbit of Border World culture. Aha!

"Hey, Goober! I'm thinking of fucking your mother! Is she any good?"

"Leave Maw outta this, or I'll rip yer friggin' face off!" Hallelujah, he's coming back! Uh, tell me again why this is a good idea?

Whoop! Whoop! A missile! Whoop! Whoop! Two missiles! Blaster fire! Corkscrew! Launch! Wait... Decoy! Hard right! Lock broken! Hah! He evaded my way! Deflection shot! Bang bang bang! Hits! Settle on his tail! He's not burning, he wants to maneuver. Close in! Goose my burner, point blank range, bang bang bang! He's out-turned me, but his ship's falling apart--he ejects! Where's Primate?

"OOOeeeOOOeeeOeeOOOoooo!"

Ow! "Dammit, Primate, you turned the volume UP!"

"Sorry, sir. Uh, I've got minor damage here. You OK, Earthworm?"

"Yeah," I lied. I had the shakes again, and I was having trouble connecting the relief bag to my flight suit. Come on, come on...ahhhhhhh.

*

Woohoo, jump point at last!

"Appreciate your assistance, Earthworm. Jumping now." The transport's comm officer was just as relieved as I was.

"Good luck, Amontillado." A brilliant blue flash and transport was gone. Now to get some gas. Hmm, better get a fresh relief bag, too.

*

"Wow, look at the size of that array, Earthworm!" Now that the danger was past, it seemed Primate was ready for some sightseeing. "Can we take a tour while our birds are being serviced, sir?"

I was more interested in the array's CAP. Vero was somewhere around here,shepherding two rookies by herself--this was the patrol that Primate had missed--and she was overdue for relief. I prayed that Maniac hadn't screwed up the schedules in my absence. Fortunately, the pirates had so far been more interested in commercial traffic than in static installations.

Vero came on the comm. "Bandits! Four T-bolts! Array under attack! Time for some fun!"

Shit! Shades of Orlando! "Dance with 'em, Vero, we're coming! Burn,Primate!" I had a nightmare vision of the array in flaming ruins, men and women screaming soundlessly as the air was ripped from their lungs.

Vero's patrol hit the pirates about 25,000 klicks from the array. They were badly outmatched by the heavy fighters. The Hellcat's best chance against a heavy was to dance and slash, but the rookies were too green and too keen. A fierce exchange of blaster fire, a volley of missiles, and three fireballs bloomed in quick succession. Vero emerged from the furball with a pirate on her tail; two more pirates made a beeline for the array.

We angled to intercept. Thanks to the rookies' sacrifice, the pirates were still out of torpedo range, so they turned into us.

"Break and attack, Primate!"

"Maybe I'll just negotiate with--"

"Shut the fuck up, Primate!" I had to concentrate. Against T-bolts, I needed some good taunting to even the odds.

"Hey, Cracker, I'm thinking of fucking your sister! How is she?" Heh heh.

"How the fuck would I know?" Shit, a female! I'm doomed! To do "man's work"among the Border Worlds, a woman had to be twice as good as a man.

Launch! Incoming! Don't go head-on with a heavy, dance! Whoop! Whoop!Goddamn alarm! She's evading to starboard! Oh, God, just get me past this missile and she's mine! Steady...decoy! Roll right and pull! Whoopwhoopwho--Yes! There she is! Come on, you stupid missile, bust her ass, bust h--fuck!OK, we'll do it the hard way.

Cut the corner. Deflection shot, bang bang--a hit! Keep up shield power, that tail has a nasty sting. Auto-match her speed. Bang! Hit! Dance! Missed me!Twist and turn, you stupid bitch! Fly straight and that damn turret cuts me up, but try to turn and I'll dance around it all day! Bang! Hit! Bam! Oops,careful. Bangbang! Hithit! Dance!

Her armor's shredding, don't hit the frags! Bangbang! Hithit! She's losing speed, OK, bore in! Bangbang! Bam! Bangbangbang--KABOOM! No pod. I'll send your sister a sympathy card, bitch!

Vero's voice came on the comm. "Ooooh, I get such a rush from takin' out badboys!" Hah! She nailed her target! Good work, Vero. Now where's-- Damn,Primate's in trouble! Sneak up on his opponent and--Whoa, I got a better idea!

"I'm coming for you, Gomer!" I yelled. I launched an IR at extreme range to emphasize the threat. He evaded easily, but that took him off Primate's tail. Vero had disposed of her man, Primate was turning for him, and I was undamaged. The pirate chose the better part of valor and split.

"Earthworm, why'd you scare him off?" Primate understandably wanted revenge on his tormentor.

"I want to track this guy. How are you two fixed for fuel?"

"About 10 percent, Earthworm. Let's chase 'im!" Good ol' Primate. Low on gas, half shot up, and he was ready for more.

Vero had another concern. "I think one of my rookies ejected, Earthworm, but Iget no beacon. Request permission to search."

"Granted." Good for you, Vero. "Have the station assist with a shuttle."

Now to business. "Form on my wing, Primate. We'll pull behind the array like we're landing, then kill our active sensors and track him passively." One,maybe two of my pilots were dead, and I wanted more payback.

*

We could track the Thunderbolt's emissions at nearly twice the range that his active sensors could pick us up, but it was difficult to estimate distance on passive data only. Primate and I split up to triangulate from a long baseline,with our AIs communicating on a tight beam.

As expected, our quarry changed course when he was well away from the station. No way would he head directly home from the scene of battle. We hung on long enough to detect him entering the asteroid belt, when his emissions ceased. We turned back, our fuel dangerously low.

Primate and I collected Vero at the array, refueled, and then headed for the Lexington. Vero had found her lost sheep, drifting in a damaged pod, and vectored the shuttle to it just before its life support ran out. That still left us with one funeral; the first of the tour and probably not the last.

*

I perked up considerably when we reached the Lexington; a "Welcome back, sir!" was always like a tonic to me after a hard mission.

I had the least damage, so I'd be first one in the barn. I hadn't had a chance to meet or talk with anyone on the comm staff; maybe the one on watch now was acute number with a golden voice like Barbara's. Time to find out.

"Request clearance, Lexington."

A face popped up on the comm screen. A male face. Shit! A haughty, lemon-sour male face. Shit, shit!

The face said, "I'm Lt. Vinson Garr, Chief Communications Officer. Congratulations, Colonel." A haughty, lemon-sour male face with an arrogant,irritating voice. Shit, shit, shit!

OK, OK, cut the guy some slack. At least he's polite. "Thanks, Vinny, it's good--"

"You have clearance. Out."

"--to be back with..." Son of a bitch! That arrogant lemon-sucking bastard cut me off! This jerk even made Rollins look good.

*

I pulled my Hellcat up to its service bay and cut the power. A deckhand was ready with a ladder, and I climbed down wearily. I reached the deck just as Chief Rench and his crew swarmed out of the service bay.

Sockette saw me and started running. "Oh, my poor baby!"

Well, that's more like it! I'd have to be circumspect with her husband around,but I wouldn't mind a little feminine TLC.

She ran right past me and hugged the front landing gear. "Oooh, did that nasty man hurt you, baby?"

Stu and Othello climbed up on my bird and frantically started opening the inspection panels. What, did they think I had taken something?

I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Colonel?"

It was Monk. Well, at least he was glad to see me.

"Boy, Monk, it was a tough--"

"Could you move, Colonel? I need to get up into the cockpit." His smile was polite, but he was insistent. I stepped back and watched the techs working on my bird as if their lives, not mine, depended on it. I shook my head. Techs!

Primate pulled up to the next bay, and I walked over to give him his banana. Behind me, Sockette was complaining again.

"Oh look, that beast got a SCRATCH on you!"

Damn, I sure missed Rachel.

End of Chapter 3

Previews from Chapter 4:

"I have come for you, Heart of the Tiger!"

"Ohmygod! You're him."

"Gesundheit!

Chapter 4

With all the flight activity going on, the ship's intelligence officers had fallen behind in their debriefings. Our information was hot, however, so Vero, Primate, and I were called in to see them right away. On the basis of our reports, Captain Eisen redeployed his destroyers and steered the Lexington toward the sector of the asteroid belt where the pirate Thunderbolt had disappeared.

Meanwhile, I sent Vero and Primate to get some rest. I headed for sick bay to see if the injured rookie was back yet. He wasn't there, but Lt. Disch was. Damn, didn't that woman ever sleep?

She greeted me cheerfully. "Don't worry about your lamb, Colonel. I consulted with the medics at the station, and it looks like 2nd Lt. Giunta is in good hands. Some frostbite, oxygen deprivation, and a few bruises, but he'll make a full recovery."

Whew. "Thanks, Lieutenant." I already had to compose one trans to a bereaved family. I didn't need to do another one.

I must have been more tired than I thought, because Disch's tone turned serious. "Now go get some rest, Chris. I'll call you if Fhish's condition changes. Go on, go. Doctor's orders." She sent me on my way with a pat on the butt.

What a medic. Beautiful, efficient, dedicated, and a GREAT bedside manner.

*

Disch was right; I was exhausted after the long mission and two dogfights. But as I lay down on my bunk, my eye was caught by the vial on the fold-down night table. Zeke had given me that the day I left Nephritis 2. When he handed it to me, he'd said, "Keep this with you, Christopher, and home will never be faraway."

He was right. I picked up the tiny container of soil from my beloved farm,and the memories washed over me. I could see home as clearly as if I were there: the rolling fields, the fruit blossoms, the river that ran through it. I remembered that golden day late last summer, when the calls of the sectoids and aviates had magically merged with the whine of agrodroids into a symphony of joy and beauty. I remembered the storm that wrecked the old chicken house,the rich smells of harvest time, the megamole that nearly killed Robin and me,the time--

Yes. I remembered the visit, nearly a year ago, from an old acquaintance...

I had been in the front parlor, looking through my newest mail-order catalog. My new life on Nephritis 2 was still incomplete in one crucial aspect, and I had decided it was time to remedy the situation. So far my search had been fruitless, but this new catalog was very promising.

I was interrupted by the front doorbell. "Candygram!" yelled the fellow on the other side of the door.

Flint! It had to be from her. She had sent a candygram with her last message,as her way of apologizing for communicating so seldom. Eagerly, I rushed to the door and flung it open. "It's about time--"

I froze in horror. Looming over me was my worst nightmare come true: Prince Thrakhath himself, eyes blazing with fury, ears pinned back, a growl in his throat, and hatred in his heart!

Nooooo! I screamed soundlessly. You're dead! I killed you and then I killed your planet! Oh, God, this can't be real!

But this was no nightmare! It was really happening! In a deafening voice of doom, the demonic prince snarled, "I have come for you, Heart of the Tiger!"He raised his huge paw with its long razor-sharp talons, until it was poised to slash my life into twitching ribbons of bloody flesh.

Panic consumed my mind. I was frozen in abject terror. I couldn't run,couldn't move, couldn't even utter a sound. I could only watch helplessly as my old nemesis closed in, bared his terrible fangs, and opened his jaws--

"Gotcha!!" he crowed. "Bwahahahahaha!"

Huh?

"Hahahahaha! Ohohoheeheeheeheehawhawhaw!" Helpless in his glee, Thrakhath collapsed first to his knees, then to the floor, his huge frame convulsed with laughter. I could only stare in astonishment as my deadliest enemy rolled around on my porch, laughing his damn head off.

Out of breath, he paused for a moment, wiped the tears from his eyes, and looked up at me. "Oh, Sivar, if you could only see your face! Priceless!Oh, oh no, I can't--bwahahahahaha! I can't stand it!"

I rolled my eyes. This was getting old, fast. I kicked him, not gently, to get his attention. "Hey! Laughing boy! Knock it off already!"

"Hahahahaha! I-I'm trying, Heart of the...Kitten! Bwahahahaha! Sorry, sorry! I can't help it! Heeheeheehee! No, no, I'm stopping now. No, no, really this time... Whew! That was a real knee slapper!"

With an effort, Thrakhath heaved himself to his feet, wiping his eyes with one paw and dusting himself off with the other. For the first time, I noticed he was no longer wearing his customary princely robes. He was, in fact, wearing a straw hat, checked flannel shirt, denim overalls, and sturdy lace-up workboots. He had set a mysterious paper bag on the porch.

What the blazes was he doing here, dressed like that? Better yet, why was he even alive in the first place?

By now, Thrakhath had regained his composure. In fact, he had become downright solemn--except for a lingering twinkle in his eye--as he stood before me in a posture of respectful attention. He had evidently prepared a speech to go along with his damned prank.

"I have come to make peace with you, Heart of the Tiger. Once our races were at war. Once we were sworn enemies, and did unspeakable things in the name of our hatred. Now our races are at peace, and I am ashamed of all I did to you and your kind. May I enter your home in peace, Christopher, and remember old times with you?"

What? This mangy furball had the chutzpah to preach peace to me? I stared in astonishment at Prince Thrakhath as he waited expectantly for my answer. Here was the killer responsible for millions of human deaths! The war criminal who had committed genocide on Locanda IV! Who condemned prisoners to living death as slaves! The prankster who had ruined my clean underwear! The fucking scumbag who had mercilessly BUTCHERED AND EATEN my beloved Angel, then taunted me with the images of her death!! The--

Thrakhath opened the paper bag he had brought with him and held its contents out to me in his massive paw. "I brought a jug..."

A jug? "Come in, old buddy!"

*

"Earthworm? Oh, Earthworm? Yoo-hoo?"

Wha? Oh, the ship's AI was calling me. "What is it, Lex?" I yawned. Guess I fell asleep after all.

"Time to crawl out of your burrow, Earthworm. The Captain wants you in the briefing room in ten minutes."

"Thanks, Lex." I jumped off the bunk and folded it up into the wall. While cleaning myself up, I checked the chrono. Two hours of sleep. I felt like anew man.

*

Captain Eisen and his aide had their backs to me when I entered the briefing room. As I stood waiting for Eisen to notice me, he whacked his aide on the rump with his swagger stick.

"Naismith! Where is Colonel Blair?"

"Ouch! Er, he's not due for another two--"

"Ahem. I'm here, Captain." I didn't want poor Naismith to suffer any more because of me.

"Ah, Colonel. Time to earn your pay." He took his accustomed place at the holotank.

I picked a spare clipboard off the bulkhead on my right and carefully put it over my butt as I joined the Captain.

"Now we still don't know if we're dealing with pirates, Border World forces,or hired mercenaries. Nevertheless, we're here to put them out of business. Thanks to your excellent recon, we've tracked them down to this section of the second asteroid belt." He brought up his swagger stick and I cringed reflexively, but he was just using it to point.

"They may have an asteroid base, or they may be flying off a ship. I want your wing to search this part of the belt and nail it. Cut your escort teams to the bone, and put up a maximum effort. I've sent TCS Privateer to cover the nearest jump point, so don't be afraid to use active sensors and flush these scum out from cover. Any questions, Colonel?"

The mission seemed simple enough, although even one section of an asteroid belt was a pretty big place to search with just one wing. "One question, sir. Did Intel get anything out of that pirate who ejected last time?"

Eisen carefully made his face a blank. "HQ has ordered us not to interrogate prisoners taken in this system." From his tone, it was clear that followup questions would not be welcome.

"Very well, sir." Jesus, either HQ had flipped, or this thing was much bigger than we thought. Prisoner interrogation was the cornerstone of intel work.

"Then hop to it, Colonel." He emphasized his order with a swat to my rear,but I managed to catch it on the clipboard. Hah!

I was already planning the search on my way to the ready room. "Lex! Round up all squadron leaders not on patrol and have them meet me in the Third Squadron ready room. And my deputy, too. We got some bad guys to nail."

"Oh, goody! May I say, sir, that your species' true brilliance is most evident in the inventive methods you devise to kill each other? I look forward to your ingenious plan of--"

"Shut up, Lex!" Dammit, AIs weren't supposed to mouth off to their superiors.

*

Half my squadron leaders were out on patrol, but I had enough senior officers left to sketch out a search and destroy plan. We would send out search teams consisting of two Longbows and two covering Hellcats each. If the pirates were weak, then one such team could probably take them out; if too strong, the team could defend itself long enough to yell for help. As fighters reported back from their escort missions, they would be reassigned to fill in the gaps in the initial pattern.

Just as Vagabond's team launched, two Longbows reported back from long-range patrol. I had two unassigned Hellcat pilots left, but the returning Longbow pilots needed a rest. OK, I was qualified on strike fighters. We'd have to go with a three-man team, but I didn't see any way around it. No way was I flying with Maniac again.

*

While I was going over the mission with Miner and Quality in the ready room, a courier shuttle was announced on final approach. I didn't pay much attention until I walked into Flight Control and spotted a rookie pilot on the stairs. He was swiveling his head like a kid seeing the big city for the first time.

Please, God, let him be a Longbow pilot. "Ahem. Can I direct you somewhere,Lieutenant?"

Startled, he scrambled to the top of the stairs, snapped to attention, and barked his response.

"Just shipped in, sir! Second Lieutenant Troy Carter! Callsign: Catscratch!" He threw me a parade-ground salute.

I was more impressed by the Longbow badge on his chest. Yes! Thank you, God!OK, give him a mild hazing and stuff him into a flight suit.

"Now you didn't just graduate from the Academy, did you, Catsnatch?"

"First in my class, sir! And it's 'CatSCRATCH,' sir."

"Whatever. Get down to--"

Just then Maniac stormed up the stairs. He had obviously heard about the next patrol.

"Hey, Blair, you're SHORT one pilot! How come I'm not on--"

"Ohmygod! You're him!" exclaimed Catsnatch. He stared at me as Moses must have stared at the burning bush.

Not again! "No, I'm not!"

Catsnatch was momentarily taken aback, but then he grinned. "Aw, you're just ribbing me, sir. Everyone knows Colonel Blair is the Heart of the Tiger."

Tiger? "Oh. Oh, sure, that's me. Heh heh." Whew, that was a close one.

He snapped to attention again. "It would be the privilege of my life to fly on your wing, sir!"

"Not so fast, flyboy."

Whoops, Lt. Disch had just walked in. Catsnatch turned at the sound of her voice and did a double-take. For a moment, I thought his eyes were going to pop out onto the floor. Evidently hero worship came second when a beautiful woman was around. Sigh.

Maniac was also greatly impressed by Disch's entrance. He took one look at her, squeaked "Uh, gotta go!" and streaked down the steps. I thought I heard a distant crash somewhere down on the flight deck.

Lt. Disch strolled over to Catsnatch, thumping her pencil on her ever-present clipboard. "You've been a naughty, naughty boy, Lieutenant Carter."

The rookie tore his eyes away from her chest and stammered, "Uh, m-m-me?"

"Yes, you, you bad boy." She winked at me. "According to your file, you haven't had a physical in over a year! I'll have to certify you before you can fly off this ship."

Now he was really nervous. "I-I-I can't right now! I, uh, I gotta stow my bust--er, bag! Yeah, that's it! Um, so if you'll excuse me, Lieutenant Kiss--er, Disch! Which way to the lips--hips--lift! Lift! Which way to the--"

Oh, this was getting good. I decided to play along with Disch. "Relax there, Catsnatch. Lt. Disch doesn't bite...well, actually, she does." Hee hee.

He backed away as Disch approached, looking desperately from her to me and back again. "B-b-but she'll see me stark n-n-n-- I'll have to take off all my c-c-clo--"

Disch nodded. "Right down to your epidermis!" She flashed a predatory smile.

The kid fainted dead away. Luckily I managed to catch him before his head hit the deck. I cradled his head and looked up at Lieutenant Disch. She sighed with exasperation and knelt to revive the unconscious flier.

Shit, I guess we went too far. "Taysti, could you certify him for one flight?Afterward we can get him drunk and then he won't mind so much when you, uh, examine him. OK? I really need a warm body on my wing right now."

She looked up from her patient, who was starting to come around. "If I though the was normally subject to fainting spells, I'd ground him right now. But you're right, he'll probably be OK in the cockpit."

Meanwhile, Catsnatch had revived somewhat. "Wha... How..." Unfortunately,Disch was holding his head about three centimeters from her right breast, and as soon as he opened his eyes, he took one look at it and passed out again. Disch rolled her eyes and went back to work on him.

Jeez, I hadn't seen such a rube come out of the Academy since that Wesley kid a few years ago.

*

Chief Rench had two of his tech crews turn our Longbows around in record time. As Catsnatch and I hit the flight deck, Sockette was just driving the auto-loader away from my ship. She shouted to us over the din of flight operations as she passed. "Sixteen FFs and four torpedoes each, sir! You're loaded forbear!"

We waved our thanks. Catsnatch seemed to have fully recovered from his ordeal in Flight Control. He was eager, yet he had himself well under control. I gave him a thumbs-up and yelled to him over the thruster roar of a two-ship CAP launch. "Follow my lead, kid, and you'll do fine. Good luck!"

"Thank you, sir! I won't let you down!" He ran off to his own ship.

I took the clipboard from Monk and signed for my bird. "I'll try to take good care of her, Monk, but you realize, I am taking her into combat..."

"Um, I'm sorry about the fuss we made last time, Colonel. Sometimes we get a bit carried away, worrying about our babies." Well, that was encouraging. I would have been more inclined to believe him, however, if I hadn't seen Othello crying on Stu's shoulder as I climbed up into my Longbow.

Quality and Miner launched just as I was settling into the cockpit. Preflight was routine, and soon the kid and I were on our way. I watched him warily, but he formed on my wing like he was born there. Quality and Miner formed up afterward without a hitch. Despite having two rookies in my flight, I was beginning to get a good feeling about this mission.

*

After several hours of fruitless searching, we were nearing the Hellcats' range limit and were about to turn back. Vagabond the odds maker had given us only a moderate chance of finding something in this sector, and he was seldom wrong. The flight had been good training for Miner and Catsnatch, however, and I was pleased by their performance so far.

I was just finishing my tomato soup when I got a twitch on my scope. The AI classified it as a "probable glitch," but I didn't think one of Chief Rench's birds would have many glitches in it. I passed the contact to the rest of the flight and we turned to investigate.

"Enemies coming our way, sir!" Quality was the first to spot them.

Two Arrows and two T-bolts showed on my scope. And at the edge of detection range was a blip the AI identified as a frigate. "Bingo!" I gloated.

Miner chimed in. "I concur, Earthworm. Bingo class frigate, all right!"

That meant these fighters coming at us were the last ones aboard. Take them out and the mother ship would be easy meat. "Turn into 'em! Quality, split elements!"

"I'm gonna get me some quality time!" Quality and Miner began separating from our Longbows.

I had time to taunt, or time to coach Catsnatch, but not both. "Catsnatch!Arm FFs in volley mode! We'll take these guys as missile barges. Fire to make your man break in front of you. Channel gun power to shields!"

"Roger that, sir." Good man. His voice was steady, his response crisp.

As expected, the pirates split; the T-bolts would try to take us out while the Arrows kept Quality and Miner off their buddies. Catsnatch fired a four-FF volley at medium range, forcing his man to take a poor missile shot and evade. I wanted a quick kill, however, so I held on. Closer...this guy's good, he'll launch a double shot at optimum range, which is just about... NOW!

Whoosh! Four FFs took off for the pirate a split second before two IRs came my way. Whoopwhoopwhoop! Damn, they're close! Decoy now, hit burner, jink over them...missed! No lock! Burner off. KABOOM! Hah, must've hit him with two!

T-bolt Two had worked around Catsnatch's flank and was trying hard to get a good missile shot. Catsnatch was flying brilliantly, however, and the pirate was making little progress.

"Save your missiles, Catsnatch. Keep evading." I hit burner and came up behind the pirate. I could gun him, but he'd have time to evade my slow 'bow,so I launched a single FF at short range and fired a burst to weaken his rear shield. WHAM! Solid missile hit. I scanned him: engine hit, burner out,aft armor in shreds. I had taken a couple of hits from his rear turret.

I was faster than him now, but I took my time because of the rear turret; the 'bow wasn't as nimble as a 'cat. Catsnatch came up on my starboard side, and for a second I thought he was going to commit a serious breach of flying discipline and take my kill. He kept steady, however, so I gave him the greenlight.

"OK, Catsnatch, take him!"

"I'm goin' for it, Earthworm!"

I had to hand it to the kid; he danced that Longbow like I had never seen. His gunnery needed some work, but he didn't take a single hit. The pirate dodged and weaved to no avail; Catsnatch wore him down and tore him to shreds.

"Chalk one up for me, Earthworm!" Good work, kid. Now where were our wingies?

"Bon appetit, scumbag!" Ah, Quality was still alive. I checked my scope. So was Miner, but both ships had taken damage. Well, no problem. The frigate's cover was gone, so our Hellcats could head home.

Miner was apologetic. "I nailed one, sir, but I stayed on his tail too long. His buddy hit me with a missile before Quality could take him out. But he ignored a pirate FF to save me, and he was hit, too."

"Never mind, kid. You did good. Return to the Lexington, you two. We'll takeout the frigate and catch up with you. Catsnatch, form on my wing."

We approached the frigate at full speed. Heh heh, I loved big, fat, helpless targets with no fight--

Jesus Christ! Four new blips popped up near the frigate! I checked the AI readout and froze. At this range, I could see that the frigate had been refitted into a hemi-carrier! It was probably carrying another four fighters!Where the hell had pirates found a dockyard to convert their frigate?

No time to speculate. We were in deep shit. We had pirates inbound and four more being spotted for launch. We had to take out that frigate pronto, or we were dead. But there was no way we'd make it through those fighters, and our Longbows were too slow to run.

The pirates were cocky. They had us, and they knew it.

"Hey, how can you fly for Confed pay?"

"My grandma flies better'n that!"

We had one chance. I sent out a general hail.

"Hey, Gomers! Knock knock!"

"Uhh, who's there?"

"Snatch!"

"Oooo, a dirty one! Snatch who?"

"Gesundheit!"

"Huh? 'Snatch who'... 'Gesundheit'? Ohhh, I get it! Hahahahahohohoheehee!"

"Woohoo, that's funny! Hawhawhaw!"

"Dang, that's a good one! Heeheeheehee!"

In seconds, all four bandits had broken off their attack and were milling around helplessly. Jeez, what a bunch of morons!

"Arm torpedoes, Catsnatch! Let's--"

"Yeeheehee! Oh, you crack me up, Colonel, sir! You really are a living legend! Hahahaha!"

Oh great. OK, I'll do it myself. I burned for the frigate, which was in themiddle of a turn away from me. I was still out of range, so I fired off two FF volleys at the jolly rogers before arming torps. OK, torps locking, slow down,dodge the return fire, but don't lose lock. Bam! Bam! Taking hits, starting to penetrate shields! Lock, you mother-- Oh no! Activity on the aft flightdeck! They're launching! We're locked! Launch! Bam! Evade! Check aftsensors! Torps running hot, short run... KABLAMMO! KABLAMMO!

I got two solid hits. An Arrow was caught in the fireball just as it cleared the deck. The aft section of the frigate crumpled like cardboard. Antimatter plasma spewed from the engine section, searing an incandescent path through everything it touched. Any second now, the core would blow.

Scratch one frigate! Damn, I'm good!

A massive object flew out of the aft section. It was the core, spraying more and more plasma as its containment field decayed. Someone in the engine spaces had lasted long enough to eject the core in a desperate bid to save his comrades.

Suddenly I wasn't so proud of myself. Men and women were dying a few hundred klicks away, and I was the cause. Yes, they were murderers, and yes, I'd do it again because it had to be done, but I didn't have to like it. I disarmed my last two torps and headed back to collect my wingman. Enough killing today.

The core blew at a safe distance from the wreck. The survivors would need antiradiation treatment, but they'd live to face a judge. Their pals slowly orbiting the hulk would answer to a higher court.

Catsnatch had recovered his composure and gone after the two surviving pirate fighters. With their mother ship gone, they didn't have much fight left in them. When Catsnatch toasted the first one, his wingman surrendered and ejected. The kid had two life pods on his racks by the time I joined him.

"You OK, Catsnatch?"

"Never better, sir! Does a surrendered fighter count as a kill, sir? That would give me three on my first mission!"

Sheesh. "Form on my wing. Let's go home." I reported the encounter to the Lexington and requested shuttles to take off survivors before the hulk hit an asteroid. With any luck, a salvage crew from one of the main worlds might even make a little money off our day's work.

*

"Request clearance, Lexington." At this point, I'd be happy to get clearance from anyone, even Lt. Lemonlips. Too many long missions these past few days.

Lt. Garr appeared on my comm screen. "Colonel, I hear you left a number of those pirate scum alive. I must say, I expected better from the famous 'Heart of the Tigger.'"

"That's 'TIGER!'" Smug bastard. I was in no mood for a ribbing.

"Whatever. You are cleared to land. Earthworm."

Jeez, I hated that guy!

*

I pulled up to the maintenance bay and debarked. Chief Rench and his crew were lined up at the foot of the ladder. Gee, maybe they really were glad to see me back.

As I reached the deck, I doffed my helmet and shook hands with Monk. Wow, he was even smiling. I looked at the others. Yeah, they were smiling, too.

"Uh, welcome, uh, back, sir," said Monk. "Um, how was the, uh, mission?"

Now that's more like it! "Pretty hairy there for awhile, Chief, but we had some good luck..." I stopped when I noticed he wasn't paying attention. Why,he was looking at my fighter! I glanced at his crew. Oh yeah, they were still at attention, but their smiles were obviously strained. Othello was even sweating with the effort. They didn't care about me at all! They couldn't wait to get their hands on "their" fighter again!

I gave up. "Nice try, Chief. Go on, she's all y--" I was nearly trampled as they stampeded up the ladder. Shaking my head, I strolled over to the next hangar bay, where Catsnatch was entertaining his fellow rookies with his exploits.

As I approached, he snapped to attention and saluted. "Colonel, it was an honor and a privilege to fly with you today, sir! And that was a really,really funny knock-knock, sir! Heeheehee!"

Uh, yeah, right. "Say, Lieutenant, are you by any chance from one of the Border Worlds?"

His eyes widened in astonishment. "Why, yessir! Third generation. How did you know?"

"Er, you still have a slight accent? Yeah, that's it. Your accent."

"Gosh, you sure are smart, Colonel, sir! You're my hero!" His face glowed with adoration.

Border Worlder, eh? That explained a lot.

From behind me, I heard a muffled scream. Sockette must have found my spilled relief bag.

End of Chapter 4

Previews from Chapter 5:

"A-amazing grace, ho-ow sweet the sound, tha-at saved a-a wretch li-ike me..."

"The Kilrathi became the scourge of the galaxy all because they were..."

"I suppose you want to know the cause of death, Colonel."

Chapter 5

Our work was done in the Hellespont system. TCS Privateer stayed behind to gather up the pirate survivors and deliver them to the main planets for trial. One of our shuttles delivered our prisoners to the Privateer while another fetched Lt. Giunta from the surveillance array. Since Maniac had been bitching about lack of flying time, I assigned him to escort the array flight. Heh heh.

The rest of the task force assembled and set course for the first jump point enroute to our next assignment, the Minos system. Meanwhile, Captain Eisen had scheduled a memorial service for the rookie, Tuna, our first casualty on this cruise.

As Tuna's commanding officer, I would preside over the service. After all the comrades I had lost, I thought I knew more about conducting funeral rites than any other officer in Confed. I was wrong. To my dismay, I discovered that Confed had completely revised the procedure.

Late in the Kilrathi War, when it had seemed humanity was doomed, a religious revival had swept the worlds of the Terran Confederation. Our sudden and seemingly miraculous deliverance had only enhanced the movement's credibility,and thereafter it spread like wildfire. The Confederation Navy, always in tune with the times, had recently modified its memorial services in accordance with revival practices.

As I strode to the podium, I tried to fight down my anxiety. I had studied the new manual for hours, but it was still my first time conducting the unfamiliar ceremony. If I blew my lines, the ship's morale could suffer seriously.

I set My Big Book of Regulations on the podium and surveyed the flight deck before beginning. Most of the ship's company was assembled; those on duty could follow on holovid. All present were wearing the regulation Memorial Service Dress Uniform: plain, black suits, white linen shirts, and wide-brimhats for the men; floor-length black hoop dresses and tie-on bonnets for the women. Insignia and decorations were cut to the bare minimum.

Nervously, I tried to loosen my starched collar and string tie. I adjusted my ceremonial wire-rim spectacles and opened the book to the appropriate page. Raising my arms like Charlton Heston in "The Ten Commandments," I cast my gaze toward the overhead--er, Heaven. I paused momentarily for effect, and a hush fell over the crowd.

"Hallelujah!" I thundered.

"Hallelujah!" echoed the ship's company, loud and strong.

"Brothers and sisters! We are gathered here to bid farewell to our brother, Charles Starckist, a brave and virtuous man who died in the service of the Terran Confederation."

"Amen!"

"You tell it, brother!"

The regulation responses were crisp and enthusiastic. I felt my confidence building.

"Let us honor this faithful warrior, who hath smitten the evil sinner in the cause of righteousness!" It was impossible to tell whose missile had finished that first pirate, but Vero and Fhish both insisted it was Tuna's. So be it.

"Amen!"

"Praise the righteous!"

"I hear you, brother!"

I pointed at Fhish. "Lo! Tuna's cabinmate and wingman bestows the emblem of honor!"

Fhish wept unashamedly as he attached the Distinguished Flying Joystick to Tuna's casket. More than a few of the assemblage, men and women, joined him in shedding tears. Fhish stepped back and stiffened.

I led the company in the ritual final salute. "Farewell, noble warrior, until we meet again on that shining flight deck in the sky!"

"Until then, brother!"

"Amen!"

"Hallelujah!"

"Drift in peace, soldier of virtue!"

I pushed the button to propel the coffin on its way. "Brothers and sisters,let us raise our voices in song!" And so, as Tuna began his endless journey through the void, the ship echoed with the melodious sound of human voices singing in glorious chorus.

"A-amazing grace, ho-ow sweet the sound, tha-at saved a-a wretch li-ike me..."

As the coffin disappeared from sight and the hymn reached its end, I surveyed my flock... Wow, not a dry eye in the place! Maybe Confed was on to something with this new ceremony. Of all the seemingly numberless funerals I had attended, none had brought forth such an outpouring of emotion.

"Dismissed!"

I tried to make my way to one of the stairways, but a number of people came up to shake my hand.

"Inspiring ceremony, sir."

"Never seen better."

"A great comfort, sir."

"Thank you-- No, you're too kind-- Er, it's just the regulation-- No, I don't do bar mitzvahs--"

Ensign Watt, the pantyless engineer, ran up to me and gushed, "Oh, SIR, that was just the MOST beautiful service, sir! It was...I...Ooooh..." She suddenly swooned into my arms. As gently as I could, I lay her on the deck (making sure her hoop skirt didn't fly up) and looked frantically for Lt. Disch. Luckily,

Watt's girlfriends rushed up and knelt around her, waving fresh air at her with their ceremonial fans. I turned to leave, and nearly collided with 2nd Lt.Giunta.

Poor Fhish. Tuna had been his closest friend from the Academy. Fhish was manfully suppressing his tears, but his profound grief was obvious. "Wonderful service, Parson," he said, choking.

Strictly speaking, of course, he should have addressed me as "Colonel," as the rank of Parson was only temporary, assigned for the duration of the ceremony. I sensed, however, that he needed me more as a counselor than an officer.

"I just wish Tuna could have--" Fhish buried his face in his hands, too overcome to continue. "Sorry, Charlie!" he sobbed.

I grasped him firmly by the shoulder. "Weep not, my brother. For the good Book of Regs doth state, 'Subsequent to the ceremony shalt thou return to thy duties with thy burdens eased, thy heart uplifted, and thy soul rededicated to the service of the taxpayers. Rejoice! For verily, thy (brother/sister)has gone to (his/her) reward!'"

My words, and the conviction with which I spoke them, were like a tonic. Fhish straightened his body and wiped his tears with the regulation handkerchief I had offered him. His composure regained, he gave me a brave smile and a strong handshake. He strode off, hope rekindled in his breast.

Damn, I really had a talent for this stuff. I fingered the silver wings pinned to my shirt, then looked at the Book of Regulations in my left hand. Maybe I should quit flying and become a... Naaah.

*

Back in my cabin, I flopped out on my bunk for some shuteye. I had arranged a number of drills for my rookies the next day, and I had to be fresh and keen. Against my will, I had been forced to throw them prematurely into action against the pirates, and Tuna had paid the price. Next time, I wanted them ready.

Thinking about the rookies brought back memories of the war, and thinking of the war inevitably brought back memories of my former archenemy. I fingered my vial of dirt, and my thoughts drifted back again to his first visit...

*

We had settled in the front parlor, where Thrakhath sat comfortably in my big easy chair--the only furniture I had that would accommodate his bulk. After excusing myself to change my underwear, I had moved the big rocking chair close enough that we could pass the jug back and forth. Robin, still uneasy about our huge feline guest, lay next to me. Rachel, in contrast, had readily taken to him, and now lay in his lap, purring happily as Thrakhath expertly stroked her calico fur.

I took a short pull on the jug and handed it over to my visitor. With the usual pleasantries taken care of, and a couple of slugs of homemade hooch in each of us, it was time to get some answers.

"So what are you doing here on Nephritis 2, Thrakhath? This is the last place in the universe I'd expect to find you."

"I am your new neighbor, Christopher. I bought the old Douglas place just down the road. Three thousand hectares of prime farmland at a bargain price. A dream come true." He raised the jug to his lips.

"You? A farmer?" I fought hard to keep from laughing out loud. "That just doesn't fit my image of the imperious Prince Thrakhath, heir to the throne of Kilrah!"

"Mock me not, Christopher," he answered seriously. He handed me the jug."I have been reborn. You now see before you the aristocat formerly known as Prince...Thrakhath. I have taken a name more in keeping with my new life. Please call me...'Zeke.'"

Huh? "Well, er, Zeke, I still don't understand how a ruthless predator with galactic ambition could be happy as a mere farmer." I took another pull on the jug and passed it back to Thrak--er, Zeke.

"To understand, Christopher, you must learn the shameful secrets that so far only Kilrathi have ever known. I share them with you as partial atonement for all I have done to you." He fortified himself with another slug of booze.

"I understand your Confed Intelligence believes the Kilrathi took to space and conquest because of all the seismic activity on our home planet?" I nodded."Well, they couldn't be more wrong. Nothing is so pleasant to us as curling up next to a warm volcanic vent. We went out of our way to build in seismically unstable areas, routinely incorporating hot springs, vents, and warm mud baths into our structures."

I accepted the jug, but didn't drink immediately. "Then why...?"

He held up his paw to stop me. "There are two more things you must know.

First, by some quirk of evolution, the ratio of male to female Kilrathi births is normally about five to one. Our scientists have speculated that such a proportion of fighters was necessary to protect our females in a primitive world overrun by predators far fiercer than us. In any case, it is so fundamental to our biology that our finest genetic engineers have failed to alter it."

Oh. My. God. I took a quick pull on the jug and handed it back to Zeke. I was beginning to see what a terrible trick nature had played on the Kilrathi."And second?"

"Second: Are you aware, Christopher, that male Terran lions are compelled by their instinctive drives to mate as many as fifty times a day?"

"I seem to recall seeing that on PBS; some nature show." What was he getting at?

"Well, my friend, among Kilrathi, Terran lions are revered as models of self-control!"

Mama mia! That would at least explain the legendary ferocity of Kilrathi warriors. I imagined hordes of horny males fighting tooth and claw over a few prized females. Daily. Hourly. Every damn minute of every damn day.

As realization dawned, it must have shown in my face. "Yes," said Zeke. "You see our problem, Christopher. When our species won the battle for domination of our planet, we had no outside curbs on the growth of our male population. As our females were presented with more and more potential mates, they became more demanding of their suitors. Interstellar travel was a godsend to us. With a galaxy to loot, we hoped we could at last satisfy our females' appetites for plunder and luxury. But, alas."

Oh yeah, I could visualize it all too well: "You lazy, good-for-nothing fleabag! You never bring me anything! Fluffy's lair-mate brought her two human slaves, and all you bring me is a miserable Firekkan! And you call yourself a warrior!" I was starting to feel pretty superior, until it occurred to me that much of human achievement had sprung from similar roots.

"But, Zeke," I protested, "a Kilrathi female is no match for a male. Couldn't you just, er, take what you wanted, whenever you wanted?"

He shook his head in disappointment at my stupidity. "Christopher, at the slightest provocation, a female need merely snap her claws to be surrounded by a hundred males ready to fight to the death for her favor. From kittenhood, our females are schooled by their mothers in the politics of superiority!"

Thrakhath took a mournful pull on the jug and handed it to me. "As a cub, I dreamed of becoming an agricultural specialist, of replacing our fat-laden meat dishes with a healthful diet of vegetables and fruit; of turning our planet into a garden of delight instead of a monument to greed. But first my mother, and then my lair-mate, drove me to seek conquest, loot, and finally the throne itself." He shook his head. "What could I do? I was horny as hell!"

Wow. This picture of henpecked, sex-starved overachievers was nothing at all like the image I had held of a noble warrior race. Even Hobbes had never let me in on the truth. "Sounds like your wif--lair-mate--was a real shrew."

"Don't get me started!"

I offered the jug and he took another swig. "I see now that this conflict between my true and my imposed goals was what drove my terrible anger. Did you know, Christopher, that I had ulcers? That I saw a psycatatrist three times a week?"

This was all so incredible, yet it certainly explained a lot. "So let me get this straight, Thrak--er, Zeke. The Kilrathi became the scourge of the galaxy all because they were..." I dared not say it.

"Yes, Christopher." He hung his head in shame. "We were pussy-whipped!"

*

I awoke to the general alarm. Lex was yelling at me.

"Earthworm! Scramble! We've just received an SOS!"

I wrenched myself away from my pleasant recollections and into the brutal here and now. Half dressed, I ran out the door and down the companionway, dodging crew members scrambling to their battle stations.

"Wing status, Lex!" I knew what my squadrons were supposed to be doing now,but as Wing Commander, I had to verify status before giving new orders.

"Fourth Hellcat has the CAP. Four out now, four spotted for launch, and four on standby. Fifth Longbow is on long-range patrol ahead, most inbound. Two Longbows of Sixth Squadron spotted for launch. The SOS is just out of Longbow range, in the direction of the Aegean jump point."

Shit! "Replay the SOS!"

By now I was in the lift, surrounded by bleary-eyed pilots. A frightened female voice filled the confined space.

"Mayday! Transport Annabel Lee! Cargo and passengers bound for Nephritis 2!"

Lt. Garr acknowledged the transmission with his usual tact. "Calm down, bitch. State nature of--"

"Under attack by unknown fighters! Our escorts have been destroyed! Request immediate-- Oh no! Eeeheeheehee! Eyahahaha--" The recording ended abruptly.

Lex came back on. "The ship was escorted by two Hellcats out of Hellespont Four. Lieutenant Garr is unable to raise any of them."

Damn! No idea what we were up against. The lift opened and we rushed to our lockers. I made my plans while I suited up. "Have the techs prep Longbows first, Lex! I'll brief from Sixth Squadron's ready room."

Within seconds, Sixth Squadron's pilots were assembled in their ready room. I was patched into the other ready rooms, the spotted fighters, and--over a scrambled channel--into most of the fighters in flight. Captain Eisen was on the line from the bridge.

"OK, we have to get help to the transport ASAP. Ham! Eggs! Vacate your two ready Longbows. Catscan and I will take the first mission. We'll head for the SOS and hope we can handle anything still in the vicinity."

I looked at Catscan, who was beaming at this second opportunity to fly on my wing. He'd change his tune soon enough if we ran into trouble.

"Captain Eisen! I assume the task force will close the range so we won't runout of gas?"

"Way ahead of you, Colonel. We've already changed course."

"Thank you, sir. Croissant!" Croissant was my senior squadron commander."You take charge here and send the rest of Sixth Squadron on a search pattern around the transport. Follow up with Hellcats as soon as Lexington is close enough. And send a shuttle with medics and medical supplies."

Croissant sprang to attention. "Oui, mon Colonel!"

"OK, dismissed, people. And hey! Let's be careful out there!"

*

Catscan and I burst out of the ready room and ran for our fighters at top speed. I stopped at the bottom of the ladder and scrawled my signature on Monk's clipboard, then raced up to the entry hatch. I caught a glimpse of Stu biting his hand to keep from screaming as I scuffed the shiny skin of his ship with my boot.

Sockette had thoughtfully left a note on the back of the pilot's seat:

16FF/4T GOOD LUCK

PS. Spill your bag again, motherfucker, and I'll--

Er, thanks, Sockette.

*

We were going into a potential hornet's nest without fighter cover. I kept my fear in check by inventing new and deadlier taunts to use against the unknown enemy. If we ran into medium fighters, taunting was our only hope of survival. I contacted Catscan on tight beam to reassure him, but he was absorbed in a literature recitation.

"Yea, though I walk through the v-valley of the Shadow of D-Death..."

I broke contact. He seemed OK.

About halfway to the transport's last location, Captain Eisen called. "We just got word from Confed Intel that a Border World expedition may be in this system. They may be responsible for the attack."

Border World Militia? Here? They were at least two jumps from their own territory.

"Captain, what does our ship's AI think of that report?" Lex was snooty, but she--it--had displayed uncommon insight for an AI.

Captain Eisen looked uncomfortable. "Lex is skeptical. The surveillance array isn't fully on line yet, but it should have detected any warships in the area. It has the Annabel Lee and no other ships around her."

I was getting damn suspicious of Confed Intel. In my mind, they were just one step removed from Covert Ops, a section of the military I had learned to hate and distrust. I returned to my taunt compositions.

*

We were on a hair trigger as we approached the battle area. My own fear had vanished, replaced by the usual heightened senses and reflexes in preparation for combat. It turned out, however, that we had missed this particular fight.

The Annabel Lee had been on our screens for some time. Except for the lack of power, she seemed normal. I dared to hope that she had been attacked by a traditional pirate force interested only in loot, not murder. As we came into visual range, however, my hopes died. The transport was intact, but its engines were dead, several airlocks were open, and the ship was surrounded by a slowly expanding cloud of debris.

There were no signs of life. I dropped a beacon to guide the shuttle, and turned my attention to tracking down the perpetrators of this latest atrocity. I advised Lexington that we were beginning our search.

"Earthworm!" Catscan had something already. "Faint ion trail leading directly away from Lexington toward the Rhodes jump point! Possible capship signature."

"Lexington! Request TCS Privateer be vectored to Rhodes jump point. The enemy may be headed that way."

Captain Eisen himself came on the comm. "Will do, Colonel. But you're still our best hope of contacting these guys. Good hunting!"

"Let's follow that trail, Catscan. If it is a capship, we may have the gas to catch it. Form on my wing!"

"Right away, sir!"

*

Surprisingly, we found nothing. Even with Lexington approaching, our fuel was critical, and I finally had to break off the search. The ion trail was getting fainter, which indicated that whatever made it was substantially faster than we were. Which meant that it wasn't a capship, whatever the ion signature. Which was at least consistent with the surveillance array data, but made no sense otherwise.

I checked with Lexington, but the additional search fighters she had launched had also come up empty.

On the way back, I stopped by the derelict Annabel Lee again, sending my wingman on home ahead of me. The shuttle was just finishing its inspection of the area. Lt. Homes contacted me from the cockpit.

"We're done here, Earthworm. No sign of life, no survivors. We inspected the ship, took some samples, bagged a few bodies. Some obviously died in the decompression, but we found sections of the ship still pressurized, and the people in there were just as dead. No sign of trauma. I don't know what killed them, sir, but..." There was a look of fear on his face.

"Spit it out, Lieutenant."

"Sir, they all had smiles on their faces! It was...ghoulish."

Huh? What in the world could... Better get his mind off it, pronto.

"Good work, Churlokk. Is Disch with you?"

"Yes, sir, she's busy with one of the bodies. She's taking this hard, sir. So am I."

"Understand, Homes. Return to base. I want to look around a bit." I'd had a particular interest in this transport ever since I'd heard it was bound for my new home planet.

Carefully, at minimum speed, I closed in on the ship. I scanned the debrisfield, looking for...well, anything interesting. Decompression had swept a myriad of miscellaneous items into the void, including a number of bodies. I tried to ignore those, without much success. I saw paper, pens, clothing, a large round takeout pizza pak--now what was that doing on a transport?--cups, food trays--

Then I spotted it. A "Barbie's Wedding Day" doll floated into my forward view. Nearby, I saw a teddy drifting in company with an open suitcase.

I slumped in my seat. My worst fears were confirmed.

Numbly, I waited until I had passed the objects. I took manual control of the rear turret, activated the tractor beam, and carefully brought the two items aboard before they were out of range. Then I set course for the Lexington.

I tried to concentrate on flying, but my thoughts inexorably returned to the passengers and crew of the Annabel Lee. Again and again I found myself dwelling on the scenes of horror that must have played out on board. Screams of terror. Cries of agony. Passengers blown out into the terrible cold of space. If hyperventilated, an unprotected human could remain conscious for nearly a minute--

Shuddering, I reached for my thermos of fruit juice. Between draining the thermos and draining my bladder, I managed to occupy myself for several minutes. But at my slow, fuel-stingy pace, I had hours of solitude ahead of me...

*

"Request clearance, Lexington." Thank God I was home. It would be good to see another human... Oh, shit.

Lt. Garr's unwelcome face appeared on my comm screen. "Ah, Earthworm. A pity there was nothing the mighty Heart of the Tiger could do to help those poor people." His voice fairly dripped with sarcasm.

Fortunately, Vinny's acid tongue was just the medicine I needed right then. There was indeed nothing I could do to help the dead, but that left me an even greater obligation to the living. I came out of my funk instantly, keen with the "thrill of battle" old man Tolwyn had spoken of so casually.

"Well, you win some, you lose some, Vinny. But I found out what killed them."Heh heh.

That caught him by surprise. "Er, you did? Well, what was it?"

"When you acknowledged their SOS, they saw your face and died laughing! Hahahaha!" OK, it was lame, but I had a feeling about this guy...

Vinny froze for a second, then exploded with anger. "Why you half-pint flying--" I cut him off, smiling. The landing pattern was empty. I'd land without clearance this time.

*

For once, Monk and his colleagues seemed more interested in me than in their fighter. They gathered around me at the bottom of the ladder.

"I hear it was rough out there, sir," ventured Monk.

I held up my trophies from the derelict. Monk took one look and cursed.

I said nothing. I had been a reluctant warrior, drafted against my will, but now things were different. Now I'd see this thing through, regardless of the cost. Now it was personal.

Sockette put her hand to my forehead. "Are you OK, sir? You look flushed."

I responded with what I thought was a smile, but she recoiled, as if from some Hell-spawned demon. "I'm fine, Sockette. Never better, in fact. If you'll excuse me..." I walked right by the Intel officers and up the stairway. I had one visit to make before debriefing.

*

The pharmacist's mate on duty in the infirmary pointed toward the open door to the surgery. Disch was inside, just finishing an autopsy. When she saw me,she considerately covered the body, then removed her protective clothing and started to wash up. She looked tired.

"I suppose you want to know the cause of death, Colonel."

"Were you able to make a determination?" I had seen the hideous grin on the corpse--an adult female--before she covered it.

"Yes and no. This one died of what a layman would call 'heart failure.' It just gave out on her. Problem is, she was young and healthy with no sign of heart trouble. The only explanation I can come up with is that she was engaged in some incredibly strenuous and prolonged physical activity that put too much of a strain on her heart." She leaned wearily back against the lab sink and started drying her hands.

What could cause that? "A hyperstimulant in the air supply?" That might explain the decompression: a desperate attempt to clear out the drug.

Disch shook her head and pointed to the cold room. "One of the corpses in there is wearing a space suit. And the toxicology report is negative." She took the lab computer's printout and handed it to me.

I perused the report. Slight ionic imbalance, unusually high muscle lacticacid, dehydration, profuse accumulation of sweat ingredients on the skin. All consistent with exertion to the point of death. No drugs whatsoever.

"Do you have any theories?" I was baffled myself.

Disch nodded her head wearily. "Hold me, Chris?"

I came closer and took her gently in my arms. What could be so chilling that she needed the warmth of my embrace before she could disclose it?

She lay her head against my shoulder. "That SOS was my first clue. Remember the hysterical laughter at the end?"

"Uh-huh." I had ascribed that to sheer terror. Or Vinny's face, heh heh.

"Last month I read a research report on the GGG about sonic stimulation of sensitive human tissues using precision applied harmonics. It was suggested that such stimulation c-could be used to treat the humor-im-im-impaired." She was having trouble controlling her voice. I held her tighter and stroked her hair.

"So you're saying, Taysti, that if such a sonic device were introduced into a vessel, or maybe attached to the hull, the harmonics would propagate through the ship and into the deepest, most sensitive parts of the human body, and the crew--" Oh my God!

I took Taysti's head in my hands and looked straight into her tear-filled eyes."Then those people were--" Oh no, it was just too horrible to contemplate!

"Yes, Chris!" she sobbed. "They were tickled to death!"

End of Chapter 5

Previews from Chapter 6:

"Maniac, did you ever ask yourself why the Border Worlds would try to provoke Confed into a war they couldn't possibly win?"

"Sir! H-how nice to see you, sir! Oooo, you brought my panties!"

"Excuse me, but you did say you were THE Christopher Blair, didn't you?

Chapter 6

There was nothing more we could do for the passengers and crew of the Annabel Lee. Hellespont IV sent a tug and salvage crew to retrieve her. Captain Eisen gathered our task force together and we resumed our course for the Minos system. They were also experiencing pirate activity, and it was growing more serious than Hellespont's.

Of the transport's attackers, we heard nothing. TCS Privateer caught a distant burst of activity at the Rhodes jump point, but could detect no ships or fighters. I thought that might have been our quarry, but a hasty calculation gave them an average speed of over 1,000 kps. Even Excaliburs couldn't sustain that. I gave up and concentrated on training my pilots.

Over the next day and a half, we ran a series of simulator and live action problems designed to test and instruct the new pilots in advanced tactics. The whole sequence culminated in a mock battle between TCS Lexington and her escorts, with the task force's fighters divided between the two teams. My senior commanders and I acted as referees. Against my better judgment, I let Maniac lead the Lex fighters.

Their inexperience showed, but my rookies turned in a good performance. They were in high spirits as they brought their birds in, swapping jokes and stories over the comm channels. I rounded them up as they hit the deck and sent them off to debrief with their veteran squadron mates. When the whole wing was back, I held a final critique, giving praise where it was due, and criticism where warranted. Finally, twelve hours from the Minos system, I turned them loose for a little time off before we went into action again.

Just before the exercise, a Confed shuttle had come to take charge of all the evidence we had gathered from the Annabel Lee. I had hoped that Disch would bounce back when she gave up custody of her corpses, but when I stopped in to see her, she was still subdued. I decided it was time for Cataract's physical. If anything would cheer her up, that would. In fact, she perked up considerably when I suggested it.

I rounded up Vagabond, Maniac, and some of Cataract's fellow rookies. Our pretext for getting him drunk would be to celebrate his top honors in the mock battle and his performance on the pirate mission. I had to summarize the drill results for Captain Eisen, so I sent the others ahead to nab Cataract and get the bash started.

*

By the time I made it to the lounge, the party was in full swing. Cataract, the guest of honor, sat at the center table with a boisterous group of rookies in attendance. He held a half-empty glass unsteadily in one hand. Maniac and Vagabond were at the bar, nursing their own drinks as they monitored the proceedings, although Maniac seemed to be mostly monitoring a cute Hellcat rookie whose callsign was "Misty." Vagabond saw me and nodded toward Cataract, making a circle of his thumb and forefinger. Good.

I approached the party table and found a place among the other standees. Our hero was loudly telling the story--again--of his torpedo run against TCS Ultima in the mock battle.

"...and they locked just in time, too, 'cause right after I launched the last two"--he paused to belch--"Pachyderm over there blew me to shmith-- smother-- to pieces! Hee hee hee!" He took another gulp of his drink. "Oh, hiya there, C-Colonel Blair!" He tried to snap to attention, but lost his balance and wound up back in the chair. He looked around, bewildered.

"At ease." I put a hand on his shoulder. "No protocol in the lounge, Cataract."

"CatSNATCH, shir--I mean, CatSCRATCH...yeah, that's it." He raised his glass again, and his buddies roared their approval.

I pulled up a spare chair and straddled it, leaning over the back. "So how do you like being the hero, Cataract?" He had scored the Lex team's only torpedo hits, against formidable odds.

"Maniac's the real hero, Colonel B-B--" He hiccuped. "Did you shee how many k-kills he got?"

I sighed in frustration. "Didn't you hear me in the debriefing? While Maniac and his wingmen were off chasing kills, the Longbows they were supposed to cover were getting slaughtered. You barely got your shots off before you were toasted!" Dammit, how could I get through to these kids?

Cataract was undaunted. He patted my hand reassuringly. "Thash OK, shir. You're shtill my h-hero. My pal. My bosom-- Where's your drink? Innkeeper!" He pounded the table. "Refleshment for my c-comrade, here!"

I caught Pilsner's eye and held up my fingers in a "T." He nodded and brought over a Shirley Temple.

One of the new Hellcat pilots spoke up over the din. "A lot of us feel like Catscratch, sir." Several others at the table nodded in agreement. "Our team didn't get nearly as many kills as Major Marshall's. Vero kept us tied to the stupid Longbows!"

Not another one! "Let's try to focus, here, Miner. Vero nailed the Lexington and brought back half her 'bows. Your team won the drill, for God's sake!"

Miner was unconvinced. "It sure didn't feel like it," he said sullenly. He looked enviously over at Maniac, who was regaling a small group of pilots, including Misty, with his exploits in the exercise.

Damn, there was just no talking sense into these kids. Time to fight dirty. I pretended to think it over, and even took a long sip of my drink.

"Well, maybe you're right, Miner. After all, Major Todd Marshall does have one of Confed's highest kill scores." I casually took another sip.

Every head at the table turned toward me. "His name is 'TODD?'" exclaimed Miner. He hastily gulped at his drink, as if trying to wash a bad taste out of his mouth. The other rookies looked over at Maniac with distate, probably wondering how they could have been so blind. All except Cataract, who was grinning like an idiot.

"Hey, Catscratch, what's so funny, man?" Miner wanted in on the joke.

"His name is Todd! Heeheehee! And I thought I had a stupid name! Hoo boy!"

Cataract looked like he was just about pickled, so I sent a rookie to fetch Lt. Disch. While we were waiting, I went to freshen my drink.

The topic at the bar had switched to current events. Maniac, ever the pundit, was explaining his brilliant political deductions to Misty and her friends, while Vagabond looked on with amusement.

"It's Border World radicals, no question about it!" Maniac took a sip of his Hell's Bathroom. "That's who's causing all this trouble. They nailed Orlando, they attacked the surveillance array, and they killed everybody on the Annabel Lee!" A few members of his audience nodded their heads in agreement, which didn't sit well with Vagabond.

"That's where you're wrong, old buddy. There's no proof these pirates are Border Worlders! Besides, they don't have the technology for that sonic thing that was used on the transport."

"Oooo, Vagabond the weapons scientist!" Maniac looked from Vagabond to me. "I suppose you agree with Vagabond, right, Ace?" His voice was contemptuous.

"Actually, Maniac, I'm pretty sure the pirates, at least, are from the Border Worlds."

"Huh?" said Vagabond.

"Huh?" said Maniac.

"Did you guys read my report on the frigate mission?" They both nodded. Hmm, Maniac's Playboy must be late this month. "Remember that knock-knock joke I used on them? Now just how funny do YOU think it was?"

For emphasis, I nodded toward Cataract, who was eagerly retelling the story of our frigate mission. "Gesundheit!" he finished, and laughed so hard he fell out of his chair. The pilots at his table merely stared blankly. I looked back at Vagabond, who reluctantly conceded my point.

"OK, OK, so they're Border Worlders. But the Border Worlds have always been Confed's stepchild. They supported Confed during the war, and in return they got convicts and toxic waste dumps. A lot of their people have grudges against Confed, and some of them probably joined pirate groups to get revenge."

"Oh yeah?" Maniac was on a roll and couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Then what dockyard refitted that Bingo frigate? Gotta be Border World governments behind this! Right, Ace?"

As if I'd agree with him twice in a single day! "Maniac, did you ever ask yourself why the Border Worlds would try to provoke Confed into a war they couldn't possibly win? Or why they'd waste their first strikes on non-military targets? You think maybe they're suicidal?"

"Hey, whose side are you on, dwarf? No, not suicidal, just terminally stupid! Why, those inbred morons are so dumb--"

Misty interrupted him. "Just how dumb are they, Major?" she asked with deceptive sweetness.

Uh-oh.

Maniac turned to her eagerly, oblivious to his danger. "Lemme tell ya, sweetcakes. Border Worlders are so dumb, they use condoms for sausage skins!" He held up his forefinger. "You know what they call this? Toilet--"

Slap!

Maniac outweighed Misty two to one, but her hand nearly took his head off. She stormed out of the lounge, narrowly missing Lt. Disch, who had just arrived.

Whoa! The left side of Maniac's face was already swelling up. His legs had given out on him, and he leaned unsteadily against the bar. "Wha-wha-wha hoppen?" He tried to touch his cheek, but it was too tender. "Yeowch!"

"Disch!" I called, pointing to Maniac. "Can you...?"

"No thanks, Colonel," she said brightly. "Looks like someone's already hit him!" She turned to Cataract and put her hands on her hips. "So, Lieutenant, are you ready for that physical now?"

Cataract was well and truly plowed. He grinned broadly, nodded, and started unzipping his uniform. The other pilots, of course, immediately shouted encouragement.

"Take it off, Catscratch!"

"Bend over, kid! She wants your temperature!"

"Don't show too much on the first date, rookie!"

"Turn your head and cough!"

"Hey, how long is your 'thermometer,' Catscratch!"

Disch caught Cataract's hand in mid-zip. "Not here, Lieutenant," she said with a smile. His companions groaned in disappointment. She tried to help him to his feet, and failed. Other pilots moved to her aid, but Vero pushed them aside.

"I better help you, Taysti. Gotta make sure you save some for me." She winked at Cataract, who leered drunkenly back at her. Together, the two women heaved the kid to his feet.

"Thanks, Madeleine. See you, Colonel." Disch mouthed a silent "thank you" to me, and I nodded back. I considered going with them, then thought better of it; with both Vero and Disch "examining" Cataract, sick bay would be like a feeding frenzy. Besides, Maniac still needed first aid.

They half-herded, half-carried Cataract toward the exit, accompanied by hoots and catcalls from the crowd. The kid got one hand on Vero's behind, looked back at his mates, and winked elaborately as he stumbled out the door.

Pilsner handed me an icepack, which I carefully applied to Maniac's cheek. "Look, big guy, if you'd read the pilot files like you were supposed to, you'd know Lieutenant Miasma is from one of the Border Worlds." I helped him put his own hand on the ice pack before I removed my own.

"I did, Ace!" he protested. "But all I remembered were her measurements!"

*

I buzzed Ensign Watt's door impatiently. Her hero-worship was becoming a real annoyance, and it was past time I did something about it. In my experience, the best cure for infatuation was familiarity. No living, breathing human being could possibly live up to her manufactured fantasy; once she knew the all-too-human pilot behind the facade, we could relate normally.

Watt must have been getting ready for bed, because she came to the door dressed only in a flimsy wrapper. Her long black hair was unbound, and fell down past her shoulders. I watched her eyes widen with surprise and delight.

"Sir! H-how nice to see you, sir!" She looked at my breast pocket. "Oooo, you brought my panties!"

"Er, yes. Um, Ensign, I wonder if we could talk. I understand your cabinmate is on duty for another two hours?" Thanks, Lex.

"Oh, yes, sir! Come in! And, please, call me 'Kylla?'" I walked in and took the fold-down chair. Kylla sat on the bed, suggestively loosening her wrapper.

For the next hour, I futilely attempted to paint a realistic portrait of her hero. I told her how scared I was every time I went into combat, but she just took it as a sign of greater courage. I confessed to insubordination, drunkeness, and seducing women; she forgave me. Desperate, I told her I was a poor dirt farmer unsuitable for a high-flying spacer like her; she begged me to take her back to the farm and let her bear my children.

Finally, I was forced to use my secret weapon. Hating myself for doing it, I let her have it right between the eyes. "Tell me, Kylla, how much do you know about earthworms?"

"Uh, earthworms, sir?" She uneasily pulled the wrapper a bit closer around herself.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sound asleep. I gently lifted her legs onto the bed and arranged the covers over her. The wrapper would twist and pinch as she slept, so I carefully slipped it off her. I tried not to peek too much.

As I was closing the door behind me, I stopped and blew her a kiss. Watt was a nice kid; maybe we could develop a genuine friendship now that this hero crap was out of the way. I turned to go and ran right into Lt. Disch.

Shit! How much had she seen?

"I just wanted to tell you, COLONEL, that Second Lieutenant Carter is fit to fly." Her voice was as cold as liquid oxygen. "Lex told me you were here."

Help! Mommy! "Uh, yes, I was just, ah, talking to one of the screw--crew!"

"I see. Do you normally converse with crew while they're in bed? Nude?" She reached into my pocket and took out Watt's panties--oh, Christ, I had forgotten to return them! "Mmm, silk. Yours, Colonel?" Her tone was casual, but her eyes were hard as diamonds.

My life flashed before my eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt, Colonel." Lex! Saved by the bell! "Captain Eisen wants you in the briefing room right away, sir. We have new orders."

"Uh, gotta go, Taysti! Talk to you later!" I ducked into the nearby lift and punched the command deck. I was shivering so hard it took me three tries to get the right button. Damn, who turned down the life support?

*

Captain Eisen was impatiently pacing the briefing room when I arrived. His aide was sulking in the corner, nursing a fresh welt on his forehead. I cursed myself for neglecting to pick up a clipboard along the way.

"Ah, Colonel." He looked at me with concern. "Are you all right, Colonel?"

No, sir. "Ah, it's just a chill, sir. No problem." Like hell. My life expectancy on this tub was now measured in hours.

"OK, then. Change of orders, Colonel. Confed has ordered us to the Tyr system immediately. We've changed course and will be jumping within the hour."

Oh, shit! Border World territory! And my pilots had just stood down from a long day of drills.

"Intel says they've taken an important Confederation hostage. Our job is to find the hostage and then stage a rescue." He brought up a display of the Tyr system, and pointed out the main planets.

"Now Tyr has three inhabited planets: Whitewall, Radial, and Bias-Ply. Tyr VII, Whitewall, is the most densely populated. The hostage is supposed to be on this planet, somewhere in this area." He zoomed the map to a large plain on the northern continent. I looked at it closely. I saw a medium-sized city, a number of towns and villages, farms, grazing land, a nature club, and three small military bases.

"As soon as we enter the system, send out a recon Hellcat to scout these three bases. Hopefully we can gather enough information to pinpoint the hostage for the extraction team."

One ship? "What about escorts, sir? What kind of opposition do we expect?"

Captain Eisen looked uncomfortable. "I wish I had a little more faith in the data I'm getting from Confed Intel. Supposedly opposition at the planet is negligible. The real problem is a Border World task force that's due to pick up the hostage in twelve hours. They have carrier support."

Great! Just fucking great! I remembered the "Border World expedition" Intel had warned us about in the Hellespont system. This Border World task force could be another phantom, or it could be real and already waiting for us.

"Try to make it a clean operation, Colonel. We're supposed to be at peace with the Border Worlds; we don't want anybody hurt if we can avoid it."

Yeah, especially me.

"All set, Colonel?"

I didn't answer. I was still staring at the map, wondering if I could trust Intel's assessment.

Whack! Eisen swatted my butt with that damn swagger stick. "I SAID, all set, Colonel?"

"You bet, Captain!" I saluted and ran out without waiting for him to return it. Ai-ya, that stung!

*

I ordered Monk and his crew to prep a recon Hellcat for me. We only had a few atmosphere-qualified Hellcat pilots, and Guess Who was the most experienced.

I briefed my squadron commanders, and we hastily modified our previous patrol and CAP plans for a possible encounter with a Border World carrier task force. I had Second and Third Squadrons stand down; I needed a rested reserve in case we fought a prolonged action. That left no one to escort my recon mission, but I reluctantly decided to trust Intel's assessments this time. They were more than overdue for a correct guess.

We jumped to Tyr on schedule, and found no one waiting for us. I launched the CAP first, followed by the first patrols. Then I sent out a pair of ECM birds to jam Whitewall's communication and detection gear. So far, so good. Time for a little sightseeing.

*

Monk and his crew were just finishing with my bird as I arrived. I signed for the ship hurriedly and headed for the ladder. Othello was just climbing down from the cockpit. As I started up the ladder, he stopped me with a hand on my chest.

"Sir, you have to understand, the Hellcat-R is a delicate masterpiece of advanced technology."

"I understand, Scopes." I tried to get by him, but he blocked my way.

"Sir, she's packed with extra sensor equipment, but performance and weaponry are nearly identical to the standard model."

"Yes, yes, Scopes, I'm familiar--"

"Obviously something else had to be sacrificed. They used special lightweight materials wherever possible, but the main difference is that the Hellcat-R has about half the standard armor."

"Get to the point, Othello!" Dammit, I had no time for this crap.

"Er, well, I would just like you to be extra, extra careful on this one, sir."

I knew better than to assume his concern was for me. "Why, Othello, I didn't know you cared," I said sarcastically.

It was lost on him. "Oh, I do, sir! We only have one other Hellcat-R!"

*

Our patrols had detected picket activity around planet Whitewall, so I armed my weapons while I was still well away from the planet. I had three leech and three IR missiles. Captain Eisen had said to go easy on them, but if the fit hit the shan, I wanted some fast-lockers on my racks.

About 75,000 klicks from atmosphere, I spotted a Border World patrol. They must have picked me up at about the same time, because they immediately changed course to intercept. My AI identified them as Banshees, a wicked new light fighter with blinding speed, four lasers, and unknown secondary weapons.

Damn! So much for Confed Intel. And I was driving an obsolescent fighter against new high-tech birds! Somehow I had to split my two opponents and take them one at a time.

As we closed, I decided to open with a weak, throwaway taunt to lull the enemy. I targeted the leader and screamed, "You're going home in a box!" Yecchh, what a stupid taunt!

It was good enough, however, as the leader responded, "You ready to meet your maker, city boy?" Uh-oh, another female! Well, this time I was ready.

"Hey, Daisy Mae! Who's doin' your brother while you're gone? Your sister?"

"If thet whore even touches him--Hey! Taste hot lead, urban scum!" She punched burner and left her wingman in the dust.

Whoa, a hot-tempered bitch! What a break! She came at me with lasers blazing, but I sidestepped easily. At the last second, I angled off, then pulled hard to get on her ass. I had to lose sight of her for a precious second, but I came out right on her tail at point-blank range. She had cut burner to try and maneuver, and now I was sticking like glue. My leech was locking, locking, locked! Launch! Too late, she hit burner. Splat! Her bird was helpless. Yesss!

No time to gloat, that wingman was coming up. He wasn't very good, luckily. He launched one missile, but it was a bad angle and I ditched it easily. He failed to use his speed and maneuverability advantage, which allowed me to work behind him and start hammering.

"You're finished, Gomer! Eject! Eject!"

"Never, Confed! Clemson Neal Tyne ain't no quitter!" He dodged and twisted, making himself a very difficult target. He still didn't hit his burner.

I closed in and hammered him again. I powered down shields to feed the guns, so I could fire continuously and make up for my numerous misses.

"Dammit, I don't want to kill you, Clem! Punch out!" His aft shield was down and his rear armor was shredding.

"Ah have not yet begun to--Yikes!" Kaboom! An ion bolt detonated his power plant. Did he eject?

"Clem? Clem! You OK, man?"

I got a weak signal on the comm unit. "Uh, yeah, Confed. Ah guess ah made it." Yeah, I had his pod on sensors. Whew! This guy was stupid, but he was brave.

"Stay cool, Clem. I'll drop a beacon to guide your search and rescue teams." My exit vector was on the other side of the planet anyway.

"Guess ah'll live t' see Bobbie Jo 'n the yung 'uns after all. Thanks, uh..."

"Blair. Chris Blair."

"Blair? Hey, ain't yew the guy from--"

"No, I'm not!" I resumed my course for the planet. It felt good to spare those pilots' lives. I prayed there was no more opposition ahead of me.

*

I transitioned to atmospheric flight easily enough, although my skin temp got a bit high at one point. I leveled out a hundred meters over the surface and headed east. With luck, the jammers would keep the first base from detecting me more than a few thousand meters out.

Ah, the base was just coming up on the scope. Yeah, there was the village to the south, the nature club to the north. Standard sensor emissions, nothing else. Woohoo! Score one for Confed Intel! Another milk run for Mrs. Blair's fair-haired boy!

I switched to the sensor package and activated its AI. All I had to do was fly near the target and the AI would examine it on every frequency of the EM spectrum. I went to full speed and commenced my run.

Hah! Not even laser fire! The AI activated sensors at about 10,000 meters while I stuck my thumb in my nose and wiggled my fingers at the base. Boy, those stupid gomers couldn't even--

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! A hidden turret had activated sensors and launched a missile! Shiiiiit!

Decoy! Switch to weapons! IR autolocked on turret, launch! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy! Pull up! Whoopwh-- Missed! Kerblam! Scratch one turret! OK, relax, no more--

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! What the fuck? Oh no, two medium fighters lifting off! Decoy! Burner! Too close! Too-- WHAMMO! I'm hit aft! Red lights flashing all over the cockpit! Shield down, armor gone, burner out, half my decoys vaporized! Eject, Blair! Eject!

Never! I'm the Heart of the Tiger! Turn, Blair, turn! Blaster fire misses to port. Whoosh! They pass me. Turn, turn! Gun power to shields! No time to peck away at their tough armor! IRs are too weak! Switch to leech! They're ahead of me! They split! Take the leader! Lock, leechie, please, please lock! Bam! Shit, watch that rear turret!

He's trying to drag me in front of his pal! Close in faster, leave the wingman behind! Burner! Burner! Shit, I forgot! Bam! Shit! Wait, I have lock! Yes, thank you, you big beautiful missile! He's turning, check fire! You have one chance, Blair, don't blow it! Bam! Turn... He's swinging back! Launch!

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Watch that wingman! Decoy! Whoop! Decoy! Whoop! Decoy! Decoy! Decoy! Missed! Bam! Bam! Rear shields down again! Turn, Blair, you can outturn him! Where's his pal?

"Yaaaaaaah!" Wow, he ejected from his crippled fighter, but the pod's 'chute malfunctioned! Serves you right, motherfucker! I wrenched my attention back to his wingman.

Shit, he's on burner. Way out of range. Turning, turning, here we go, head on! Keep those shields up, Blair, your leech is your only hope! Locked, but head on I need to fire at close range. Wait, wait... Whoop! Whoop! Decoy! Pull up! Not too much! Bam! Bam! Bam! Right into his blasters! Damage forward! Now or never! Launch! Turn like hell!

Splat! Hallelujah! He ejects! Parachute deployed! You bastard, I ought to-- no, that's inhuman.

I headed away from the base and tried to swallow my heart back down into my chest.

I took inventory. Burner unrepairable, gun system, comm system, and shield generators damaged. Aft armor gone, forward and starboard armor holed. I switched power to autorepair and considered my options.

I could recon this base, but I'd have to do it fast. Possibly the other bases were undefended, in which case I could complete my mission. If there was any opposition at all, however, I'd have to abort. Even if by some miracle I could defeat the base defenders, I'd have nothing left for possible pickets on the way back.

OK. I made a quick recon run over the first base and set an indirect flight plan to the second. I switched on the autopilot long enough to use my relief bag. The convenience pack was jammed, but I had been smart enough to bring along a jimmy. Heh heh.

*

Even at extreme visual range, I could tell Base 2 was defended. I actually saw one Vindicator aloft, and my passive sensors detected search emissions from one missile turret. OK, Blair, time to get out of Dodge. If you can.

*

I nursed my aerodynamically impaired bird out of the atmosphere and onto the first leg of the return trip. I tried to stay alert, but my mind insisted on fantasizing about Intel personnel strapped to various medieval torture devices. Absorbed as I was in my daydreams, I nearly missed the Border World patrol burning up on my six.

Shit! Where did these guys keep coming from? I turned into them and con- figured for combat. I had precious little left to throw at these two Banshees. Maybe I could taunt my way out. Wait for their move, Blair, then hit 'em with a devastating counter-taunt.

Almost in comm range...here it comes, "I'm..." "...barb..." "...kens!" Shit! Comm system's on the fritz! I'm doomed!

Head on! Gotta nail these guys fast, can't last in a long firefight! OK, corkscrew! Hah, missed! Zero in, fire, corkscrew... Bam! Bam! Clang! I'm hit! Guns damaged! Launch IR! Why don't they launch at me? Kablam! Yaay, a hit! Gun him while his shields are down...deflection shot! Bang bang bang! KABOOM! One down! Turn, Blair, t-- Controls sluggish! Shit, his pal is coming onto my tail! Dodge! Weave!

I pulled every trick I knew, but this guy was a pro. He stuck to my ass like wet underwear and methodically battered down my shields with his puny lasers. At point blank range, he hit my engines, and I started losing speed.

Ironically, that was what saved me. In desperation, I chopped power and he zoomed right past. Then he made his fatal mistake. He also cut his power in an attempt to stay with me and finish me off fast. I pivoted on thrusters and launched my last IR at close range. He had time to pop one decoy, and then he was hit. I fired desperately until he was a cloud of space debris.

I collapsed in my seat. That had been much too close. One more hit would have finished me. Autorepair was out, gun recharge was out, target system was out, shields were out, burner was out, and engines were under 50%. Comm system was only intermittent. The windscreen had a crack and two stars in it. I couldn't get a status on the recon pack. I could only pray the precious data were intact.

Wearily, I headed for home. It would be touch and go just making it back to the Lexington.

*

"Request clearance, Lexington." I was shaking like a leaf from reaction. The engines had deteriorated steadily on the way back, and for a time I thought I was a goner. Fortunately, the comm system had improved somewhat--thanks to a good swift kick from a pilot too frustrated to be prudent--and I was able to call in an escort for the last 500,000 klicks.

Lt. Garr came on the comm. Dammit, did they go and wake this guy up every time I came back?

"Your mission was a failure, sir?" he asked acidly. "Excuse me, but you did say you were THE Christopher Blair, didn't you?" His voice grated on my raw nerves. "The pattern is full, SIR, stand by for auto orbit vector."

You bastard! Of course you know this means war! I fiddled with my comm controls to simulate a fault, then turned off the visual transmit.

"Oops, comm trouble, Vinny. Working on it." I couldn't take my revenge right now, but I could at least deal with my rage. With the visual off, I gave Garr the finger, the double finger, the quadruple finger, and a prolonged buttfuck. I stuck out my tongue, thumbed my nose, crossed my eyes, and stuck my thumbs in my ears and wiggled my fingers. I would have mooned him, but the flight suit was too damned hard to get on and off.

All the while, Vinny sat impassively, offering me helpful suggestions, like "Try the upper-band gain, sir," or "Reset the magnetic modulus, Colonel." Hah! What a moron!

Finally, after working the anger out of my system, I reactivated visual trans- mission. "Hey, thanks, Vinny. That worked!" I was almost smiling.

"Of course it did. Downloading holding pattern now, sir."

I routed the data into the nav computer and activated the autopilot. OK, now what practical joke would I pull on this character to get even? Killing him was a bit extreme, but temporary mutilation was very--

Ah-oo-gah! Ah-oo-gah! Collision alarm! Jesus Christ! I was on a collision course with an inbound shuttle! I disabled the autopilot and pulled on the stick with the strength of a madman! Missed! God almighty, how--Vinny!

Furious, I activated the comm. "Vinny, you lemon-faced son-of-a--"

"Bad luck, Colonel," he said calmly. "Must be a fault in your computer. I'd better arrange priority clearance for you." He busied himself at his console. "Oh, by the way, sir, did you know that the Hellcat-R is equipped with a backup cockpit holocam?"

Backup? I hadn't turned off any-- Uh-oh.

Lieutenant Garr looked up from his console and smiled wickedly. "You have clearance, Fart of the Tiger."

*

The hangar bay looked like a funeral parlor. Sockette and Stu were wailing away on each other's shoulders, Othello had his face buried in his hands, and Monk looked like his father had just died. I stumbled away from the ladder, and turned to look back at my poor bird. Holy shit!

It was barely recognizable as a Hellcat, barely recognizable as anything made by man. Enemy fire had twisted and melted nearly every part of her scorched skin into a demented, abstract sculpture. As I looked at her, a piece fell off the port wing flap and clanged onto the deck. I glanced over at Monk, and his face was a wordless accusation.

I couldn't face him. I turned and shuffled off to debriefing, ignoring the two Intel officers who ran up to retrieve my recon pack. As I walked, pilots and deck crew silently drew back to give me room. A few offered half-hearted thumbs-up, but most just stared at me with shock or dismay. So much for the legend of the Heart of the Tiger!

Well, fuck 'em! I was still alive, and in my book, that counted as a success! I couldn't help thinking, however, that my earlier visit with Ensign Watt had been wasted. After this fiasco, I'd be lucky if she'd let me kiss her feet.

End of Chapter 6

Previews from Chapter 7:

"Colonel, I have been begging HQ for more modern equipment ever since I took this command."

"Colonel, Intel has pulled out all the stops to identify the most likely location of the hostage."

"You mess with the best, you die like the rest!"

Chapter 7

After debriefing, I headed for the galley to grab a quick bite before the next mission. Despite the lack of recon data, I knew we'd have to at least attempt an extraction before the Border World task force intervened. I just prayed HQ wouldn't order us to engage and destroy them.

I found an empty corner table and set my tray down. Lex had updated me on the wing's flight operations, which seemed well in hand. I had other things on my mind, however, and I barely picked at my salad.

Having analyzed the mission in the debriefing, I was no longer bothered by my failure. Retreat in the face of overwhelming odds was a legitimate maneuver of war, and one I had used many times before. No, the real problem was that I had foolishly insisted on checking the second base before aborting. I had risked a valuable pilot and expensive hardware in a pathetic attempt to save face. If one of my pilots had pulled such a stunt, I would have reamed him out.

Was I starting to believe my own legend? Did I now feel obligated to live up to my image as an invincible hero? If so, I had no business flying. That kind of attitude could get me--and those who flew with me--very dead, very fast.

Damn! I wished Robin were here. I needed somebody to talk to.

"Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?"

Robin? How did she-- Oh, it was Ensign Watt.

I tried to force a smile, without much success. "I'm afraid I'm not very good company right now, Kylla."

After a moment's hesitation, she set down her tray and pulled up a chair. "I'll take my chances, sir," she said firmly. I noted yogurt, croissant, and orange juice on the tray. I remembered she had the graveyard watch, which meant her "day" was just beginning. Her uniform was crisp, her hair up in a neat bun.

She took a deep breath before going ahead with what was apparently a prepared speech. "Sir, I want to apologize for acting so...inconsiderate before. I treated you like...a fantasy object, not a...a human being, with your own feelings, your own..." She glanced at my picked-over food. "...your own doubts."

"Kylla, you don't have to--"

She held up her hand to stop me. "No, let me finish. You see, sir, everyone's talking about that last mission, and your reputation, and how you're washed up, or you're still a hero, or, or... But all they care about is the image, not the man. Just like I did."

Leaning closer, she continued earnestly, "Then I met the guy behind the head- lines. The one who cared enough about a mixed-up kid to try and teach her a lesson. And you know what? I liked him more than I liked the plastic hero."

She looked down at her hands, and her voice grew softer. "I guess what I'm saying, sir, is that--for what it's worth--I don't care about the mission, or your reputation, or whatever. I'm just...glad you made it back."

I didn't say anything for some time. Frankly, I was stunned. Was this woman sitting across from me the same kid I had so casually dismissed as a ditzy groupie? Maybe she wasn't the only one who had learned a lesson here.

"Does this mean you want your panties back?" I asked, with mock disappointment.

She smiled back. "You can keep them, sir, as a memento."

We were interrupted by the ship's AI. "Colonel? Sorry to intrude on this touching scene, but the Captain requests your presence in his cabin at your earliest convenience."

Kylla glanced at the overhead speaker. "As I recall from the Academy, sir, that translates as 'Right now, or else!'"

"Indeed it does, Ensign." I stood and picked up my tray. As I passed Watt's chair, I patted her shoulder. "Thanks, Kylla."

She positively beamed. "My pleasure, sir."

*

I stopped at the Captain's door and focused my thoughts. He probably wanted to see me about the upcoming extraction, which was fine, but I also had an agenda of my own. This was as good a time as any to get it out in the open.

Captain Eisen responded as soon as I buzzed. "Ahahaha! Enter! Wohoho!"

Now what was so damned funny? At least he was in a good mood.

Inside, I found the Captain seated at his console, intent on the holodisplay in front of him. He waved me over jovially.

"Have you seen this yet, Colonel?" He pointed to the display.

Eisen was connected to the Lexington's home G-Spot, replaying a comm recording. The guy in the display was...me! Dammit, that bastard Garr must have uploaded the recording from my backup cockpit cam!

"Colonel, I called you in here to advise you--Hahahaha! That's a good one!-- uh, to advise you to be more careful in the--Oh, this next face is my favorite! Heehee!--er, to be more careful in the future. I know Lieutenant Garr isn't popular with the pilots, but it's bad for morale to have a senior officer encouraging disrespect--Mother Mary, where did you come up with THAT one? Bwahahahaha!"

I was mortified. Already some of the pilots were questioning my judgment, and now I'd gone and made a fool of myself. Dammit, after this I'd be the laughingstock of the ship! Quick, Blair, change the subject.

"Um, yes sir, I'll be more respectful. Uh, sir, about the recon mission..."

Reluctantly, Captain Eisen turned his attention from the display. He shook his head. "Don't worry about the mission, Colonel. I don't know anyone else in Confed who could have scanned even one target against that kind of opposition. In fact, I'm recommending you for another decoration."

Captain Eisen's respect was worth more to me than the whole chest of medals under my bed at home. "Thank you, sir. Uh, what about the next mission, sir?"

"We have a landing craft inbound with a Marine platoon to pull off the actual extraction. Intel should have your recon data digested any time now, and then we can get together and plan the mission."

He turned back to his computer. When he noticed that I still wasn't leaving, however, he looked up at me again. "Something else on your mind, Colonel?"

"Yes, sir. The Border Worlds are obviously mobilizing, and they have at least two new advanced fighter types. If we keep going up against them in these obsolescent ships, I'm going to start losing a lot of pilots."

Eisen's look of concern told me more than his words. "Colonel, I have been begging HQ for more modern equipment ever since I took this command. You'd almost think--" He caught himself, as if he were about reveal too much. I knew better than to pursue the question.

"You'll just have to do the best you can with what you have. Dismissed, Colonel."

"Yes, sir."

I stepped into the corridor and the door slid shut behind me. As I headed for Flight Control, I reflected on our conversation. The Captain obviously had doubts about HQ and our assignment in Border Territory, which only reinforced my own misgivings. I wondered if Admiral Tolwyn had considered the possibility that conspirators had infiltrated Confed HQ.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice Lt. Homes until we nearly collided. His face lit up when he saw me.

"Oh, Colonel Blair! You know, sir, I never knew you were such a funny guy!" He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Heeheeheehee! Oh, you made my day, sir!"

I watched him until he disappeared into the lift, my anger rising with each step. Damn that Garr! Damn, damn, DAMN!

*

I arrived in Flight Control just as Maniac finished briefing Croissant on his squadron's patrol plan. Maniac watched him disappear down the stairs, then turned to greet me. He obviously relished the opportunity to goad me again.

"Well, well, if it isn't Captain Polaroid! Hey, Ace, nice recon mission! Except, of course, you, ah, came up two bases SHORT. Heeheehee! Next time, please, send a professional. OK?"

Slime mold. "OK, Maniac." I looked around the compartment. "You know where I can find one?"

He glared at me. "Look, leprechaun, I've got more professionalism in my little finger--"

"--than in your whole brain! Now cut the clowning and fill me in!"

Maniac grumbled, but he briefed me on the patrol dispositions he'd made during my recon mission. We needed at least one Longbow and two Hellcat squadrons in reserve in case the Border World task force showed up, which left us with the bare minimum for CAP and scouting. Nevertheless, Maniac had done an excellent job with the available resources.

In fact, the only quibble I had was that most of our atmosphere-qualified pilots were off on patrol. If--when--I flew Marine escort, I'd only have Maniac, Misty, or Vagabond available as wingmen.

Lex called us. "I hate to interrupt your games, boys, but Captain Eisen has ordered Colonel Blair to the briefing room."

"Games!" Maniac was offended. "Do you know how hard I worked on that patrol plan, you stupid byte bitch?"

"Not nearly as hard as you worked on Ensign Myte, lover boy."

"Oh yeah? What does a dumb AI know about..."

I got out of there as quickly as I could. In a battle of wits, Maniac was firing blanks, even against an AI. This would not be pretty.

*

I remembered to grab a clipboard as soon as I walked through the door. As I approached the Captain, I placed it firmly over my butt. Good thing, too, because something seemed to be eating Captain Eisen.

"Ah, Colonel. Confed has deemed this an especially critical mission."

"Why is that, sir?" Actually, I could guess the answer. Back on Earth it was probably Screw Blair Week.

"How the hell would I know?" complained the Captain. "HQ tells me jack shit! Now let's get down to business, shall we?"

Careful, Blair, I thought. He's touchier than you thought.

Captain Eisen activated the holotank. "Intel is more convinced than ever that the hostage is being held in one of these three bases. Now as you know, we didn't get all the recon data we needed. That means you'll have to cover the Marines while they check out all three."

"Two, sir." I corrected. It had nearly cost my life, but at least we had complete data from one--

"Er, no, Colonel, it's three. I'm afraid the, ah, recon AI malfunctioned on your run."

"WHAT?"

He handed me a folder. It was marked "Visible/Infrared", and it was stuffed with holopics. I leafed through them, hoping against hope that the AI had snooped at least a few of the base installations. Hmm, that missile silo looked suspiciously like...a swimming pool. Jeez, the Border World Militia must be a pretty laid-back outfit. Over here was...a volleyball court? Hiking trails? What kind of a base was this? I looked closer at the figures on the volleyball court. Hey! They weren't wearing any--

I looked at Captain Eisen in bewilderment. He avoided my eyes.

"Ah, it seems, Colonel, that the AI decided, for unknown reasons, to recon the naturist club to the north of the real target. It's probably a, uh, bug in the AI, I'm told."

Bug, my ass! I had risked my butt to bring back jack-off material for some adolescent--Whoa! Look at these young women sunning themselves by the pool! Holy holography, Batman, I had no idea remote sensing was so advanced! Why, you could even see individual p--

Whack!

Ouch!

"If I may have your attention, Colonel?" Eisen was tapping the swagger stick on his palm, ready to strike again, if necessary. I rubbed at the sore spot on my scalp, and hastily turned to the holotank.

"Colonel, Intel has pulled out all the stops to identify the most likely location of the hostage. They recommend you check the bases in the same order you were supposed to recon them, until you find our target. They're optimistic you'll hit paydirt at the first one."

He looked up at me. "One more thing. That Border World task force is only a few hours away. Grab that hostage and get back here pronto."

Shit. That meant no detours to avoid opposition. If we ran into fighters, we'd have to blast our way straight through.

"Yes, sir!" I saluted and hurried toward the exit.

"Oh, Colonel!"

Damn! "Yes sir?"

"Leave the folder, please." Annoyance was evident in his tone.

"Yes, sir." I sheepishly handed the folder to his aide. Damn. Maniac would have paid a bundle for those pics.

I walked out the door and headed for Flight Control. "Lex!"

"Earthworm?"

"Status of the Marines?"

"Landing craft refueling now. The Marines are standing by in the service bay. Their platoon leader, Lieutenant Hedd, is waiting for you in Ready Room 1."

"Thanks, Lex. Have Captain Chang suit up and meet me there. I want to--"

"Vagabond is in sick bay, Earthworm. The Assistant Medical Officer has him under observation."

"What?" Dammit, what was he doing in sick bay? "Lex, have Major Marshall meet me at the infirmary!" If Maniac had gotten Vagabond hurt, against my explicit orders, I would personally rearrange his vital organs.

*

"Where's Lt. Disch?" I demanded of the pharmacist's mate on duty in sick bay. He pointed to the officer's ward, but before I could move, the door slid open and Disch stepped out. She was flushed, and her hair was tousled.

"Why, Colonel. How nice of you to visit us." Disch's tone, however, said just the opposite. "May I be of assistance?" she asked coldly.

I was in no mood for games. "Where's Vagabond?"

"Captain Chang is suffering from exhaustion. I've admitted him for observation and...treatment."

"I'll bet. I want to see him." I started for the door.

Disch tried to block me, but I forced my way past her and through the doorway. Vagabond was in bed, lying back against his pillows, covers drawn up past his waist. I noted that his hospital gown was carelessly thrown on the deck.

He was obviously not expecting me. "Er, hey there, old buddy." He quickly put his hand over his stomach and moaned--rather unconvincingly.

Disch hurried to his side. "You must conserve your strength, Captain Chang." She put her hand on his forehead, pretending to check for fever. Vagabond closed his eyes and sighed with contentment.

Enough! "Vagabond!" I barked. "Get out of bed and into your flight suit!" "That's an order!"

Disch turned on me angrily. "Let me remind you, COLONEL, that in all medical matters I have final authority! If you need a wingman, why don't you take that little engineer tramp of yours?"

Maniac stuck his head through the doorway. "Trouble in paradise, Romeo?"

As always, Maniac's timing was impeccable. "Er, am I interrupting something?" he asked hopefully as he walked in.

I directed a pleading look at Vagabond, but he just glanced at Disch and shrugged. "Sorry, old buddy. Doctor's orders." He didn't look sorry at all.

I gave up. "All right, Taysti, you win." I turned to Maniac. "Get Misty and have her meet--"

Disch interrupted me. "Lieutenant Miasma has two fractured fingers on her right hand, Colonel. She's off the flight roster for at least two days." Disch glared at Maniac, who suddenly took an intense interest in his boots.

I looked upward. Thanks, God. Thanks a lot. Got any more good news for me?

Lex spoke up. "Earthworm! Long range patrols have detected an incoming task force! One carrier and three frigates or destroyers! You have fifteen minutes to launch!"

Will you cut it out, God?

Reluctantly, I turned to Maniac again. He was rocking casually on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, whistling away and seemingly paying no attention at all to his surroundings.

"You can cut the act, Maniac," I said. Suit up and meet me on the flight deck."

He feigned surprise. "Moi?" he asked, pointing to himself. "The mighty Heart of the Tiger wants little ol' moi on his wing? Gee, I dunno, Ace, I'd better check my appointments." He actually plucked a little notebook out of his back pocket and pretended to consult it.

"Maniac!"

*

There was no time to brief the Marines; we'd just have to do it in flight. The crew at my Hellcat was new, but I was too rushed for introductions. If Monk and his people hadn't forgiven me by the next mission, I'd get to know the new bunch soon enough.

After an abbreviated pre-flight, Maniac and I launched, followed closely by the lander. We set autopilots for the first leg and I briefed my team. I had no information about our target, but it seemed Confed Intel had provided the Marines with all they needed to find, identify, and snatch the hostage.

When everyone was up to speed on the plan, I began to relax a little. I'd already flown one harrowing mission, and I knew I'd have to conserve my energy to make it through another. Besides, I had some pretty complex navigation to do before we hit atmosphere, so I needed to be alert when we arrived.

Maniac commed me. "We got a long haul ahead of us, Ace. What say we pass the time with a few jokes? What do you call six blondes standing ear to ear?"

Oh Christ.

*

"...and a few minutes later, they were both run over by a train! Wahahahaha!"

"Maniac, will you PLEASE shut up? I'm trying to navigate here!" Once again I tried to ascertain our exact position and compute an atmospheric entry path. Maniac was really getting on my nerves.

"Hey, Ace, lookie wh..."

"Shut up, Maniac!" Too late. I'd already made a mistake. Another calculation ruined by that loon!

Maniac pretended to be hurt. "Well, OK, Ace, if that's what you want. I'll just take those two Border World fighters by myself." He went to full speed and angled off to port.

Fighters? I checked my scope. Yeah, I had two active sensor emissions with a Banshee signature. But I had another relay of jammers covering us, and there was no way they could detect us at this range. Except that Maniac was now closing the range rapidly.

I called him on a tight beam. "Maniac! Break off! They can't--" Too late.

Maniac switched to active sensors. Instantly, the Border Worlders changed course to intercept. Shit! We were spotted. Unless our jamming was unusually effective, they were also warning Whitewall of inbound Confed fighters.

I warned the lander. "Marines, continue on course! We'll try to keep 'em off you!" I considered ordering them to turn around, but that would only buy them a few extra seconds. Maniac and I would have to protect them.

"Roger, Earthworm. Good hunting!" Damn, Lt. Hedd was cool. I punched my afterburner and chased after Maniac, but I was much too far behind him. As I watched helplessly, the BWs closed to taunting range.

"You're dead now, slime!" I cringed. Typical pathetic BW taunt.

"You mess with the best, you die like the rest!" Maniac's rhyming taunt was equally idiotic.

Idiot or not, Maniac at times could be an incredible flyer. Dodging laser fire and two incoming missiles, he managed to punch through the leader's fore and starboard shields, while suffering only minor shield hits himself. His IR missile failed to score, however, and now the BWs were past him and burning for the lander.

Shit! Why couldn't he let us take them together? Maniac was out of position now, and there was no way I could stop more than one of them alone. Tough though the lander was, a couple of missiles and four lasers would make short work of it. Nevertheless, I had to try. I angled to intercept.

It was a bad aspect, but I launched an IR at the trailer to try and distract him. Then I locked on the damaged leader. He ignored me, knowing a missile shot was useless, and gambling that I couldn't gun him as he streaked past.

Unfortunately for him, I pulled off the best high-angle deflection shot of my career, rapidly firing my guns until their cells were drained. He didn't explode, but he was out of the fight. Trailing debris, he limped back toward the planet. His partner, however, merely detoured around my missile and continued after the lander. He signaled his determination with a devastating taunt.

"Nyah nyah, Confed, yew ca-an't catch me!"

Wait a sec, I knew that voice.

"Clem? Clem, is that you?"

"Chris? Hey, boy, howya been? Pullin' tew missions in a row, eh? Uh, sorry, buddy, but ah gots ta cook yer lander. Yew unnerstand, don't yuh?"

I did. I also understood that I now had an almost miraculous chance to save the Marines. "It's OK, Clem, I under--Clem! Watch out! Speed trap ahead! Smokies, Clem, Smokies!"

"Shit! Thanks, Chris!" Clem immediately cut his afterburner and dropped to about 80% throttle. "Sweet Jesus, thet were close! One more tickut 'n ah'll lose mah-- Hey! There ain't no--"

Splat!

In the time it took Clem to realize he'd been tricked, I had closed the range and nailed him with a leech. Militarily speaking, I should have saved the missile and taken him with guns, but I couldn't risk killing Clem. Call me sentimental, but I just liked the poor dumb bastard too much.

"Chalk up another one for the Maniac!" Oh, great, Dudley Do-Wrong had just made another useless kill, and had wasted a precious IR missile doing it. I ignored Maniac and tried to contact Clem's disabled fighter.

"Clem? Switch to emergency comm, Clem." Every circuit in the Banshee was probably fried, but the E-COMM system, like the pod and ejector, should be electrically isolated from the main systems. "Clem?"

"Ah'm here, Chris. Damn, ah never shoulda left the farm." Clem understandably sounded more than a bit discouraged.

"You're a farmer?" Now I was really glad I had spared him. I couldn't live with myself if I had killed a fellow tiller of the soil. "I'm a farmer, too, good buddy!"

"No kiddin'? Yeah, ah got a right good place, but after ah come back from the war, me 'n Bobbie Jo couldn't make a go of 'er. Bad weather, hah costs, 'n low grain prahces. When the Militia marbilized, ah jumped at the chance t' earn some extry cash."

His story was all too familiar. The Border Worlds had been hit as hard by the recession as the other human worlds. That would be as good a reason as any to provoke a war, except that the Border World economies were mostly based on agriculture, tourism, and light industry, not munitions and heavy manufactures. So why would they--

"Hey, Ace, you gonna flap your gums all day?" Shit, Maniac was back. "We got a mission to fly and kills to chalk up!" Maniac was exuberant after his first kill of the tour.

He was right, though. The lander was getting pretty far ahead of us. I said goodbye to Clem and dropped a beacon before rejoining the other two ships. As I pulled even with Maniac, I went back to my nav calculations.

"Boy, Ace, I was un-fucking-believable! You ever seen a smoother missile evasion than--"

"Shut up, Maniac!"

*

What with flying, fatigue, and Maniac's endless chatter, I barely finished the nav calcs in time. We hit atmosphere right on target, however, and leveled out only a klick or two from the first planetary nav point.

We were approaching "Base 1" from the south this time. I anticipated an easy run, since I had nailed its missile turret and--hopefully--its air cover on my recon run. On the other hand, a pilot who wanted to die in bed never under- estimated the enemy.

"OK, Maniac, coming up on the base. Let's park the lander here and sniff around--"

"You can play hound if you want, Captain Cautious, but the Maniac is going to blaze a trail of glory!" Maniac's Hellcat leapt ahead. I followed at a more leisurely pace. I watched as he neared the base, daring them to shoot.

"Aw, nobody's home, mother hen. Send in the--Yikes!" I caught it on my scope at the same moment: a missile fired from a turret that had just activated sensors.

Maniac was really pissed. "You bastard, Blair, you lied about nailing that turret!" He spewed both decoys and venom in generous proportions.

Damn, they must have repaired it! "I'll get it, Maniac! Evade! Evade!" Oh no, two more Vindicators lifting off! They were chasing Maniac! I punched afterburner. I locked an IR on the turret and let fly.

Maniac had evaded the first missile, but another left the ground just before the turret blew. One of the fighters also launched. Maniac twisted and turned, and popped decoys as fast as he could.

I had a leech for the nearer fighter, but it was taking forever to lock. He broke off Maniac's tail and I followed him, just as Maniac took a missile in the ass.

"I'm hit, Ace! Aft shields down, aft armor gone! Help!"

"Evade, Maniac!" I had my hands full with this one. I exchanged fire with his rear turret, but I was counting on the leech. Lock...yes! Locked! I'm close, very close...launch! Splat! Yes! He's disabled! Now to save--

Bam! Bam! Oh, fuck! He's left Maniac and now he's on my tail! Outrun him! Burner! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Too close! Decoydecoydecoy! Pull up! Missed!

Shit, can't shake him! Bam! Bam! Rear shield down! Armor weakened! One missile and I'm history!

"Nobody messes with the Maniac! Take that!" I looked back. The BW Vindicator was disintegrating under Maniac's blasters! As I watched, the pilot ejected.

Hooray for Maniac!

"Well, well, well! Looks like the Maniac saved your ass again, Colonel. No, don't thank me. You never do, anyway!"

Fuck Maniac!

"Just shut the fuck up and watch for fighters, glory boy! We have to protect that lander!" The Marines were already inbound, having seen the end of the dogfight. As I watched, they alighted on the roof of the main installation and swarmed out of the lander.

I started orbiting the base while I tried to get my nerves under control. That damn Maniac had nearly gotten us both killed. Again. I needed the relief bag, but my hands were shaking too hard for now.

I was interrupted by--you guessed it--Maniac. "Hey, Ace? Where's that nature camp I saw on the map? I'm up for a little sight-seeing. Hubba hubba!"

Yeah, with Maniac the mission always came first. On the other hand, maybe it would keep him out of my hair for a while.

"It's just north of the base, moron. See? It's right--" Hmmm, that's funny, the terrain looks different from this angle. Say, where's the village? Did they pack up the whole thing and move in six hours? And where's the-- Oh no! THIS IS THE WRONG BASE!

The cockpit reeled around me. No, no, no! I had been so distracted by Maniac on the inbound leg that I had brought us to Base 3 by mistake! No wonder the missile turret was still intact! Oh, Christ, that meant the hostage wasn't here!

"Hey, uh, Ace?" Uh-oh, Maniac was starting to catch on. "Are you sure this is--"

"Lander to Earthworm. We have the package. Let's go home."

Huh?

For once, Maniac was too dumbfounded to be nasty. "Jesus Christ, you're a fucking genius, Ace! How did you know the hostage would be at Base 3?"

Though my relief was such that I was inclined to be forgiving, I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. "That's why I'm the Wing Commander, moron! Now let's head for vacuum!" Damn, somebody up there must really like me.

On the way up, I celebrated my good luck with a long, leisurely piss.

*

As we cleared the planet's EM shadow, our threat receivers came alive. I could identify active emissions from at least two cap ships and fifteen fighters. It seemed the BW task force was within extreme fighter range of the planet. Our jammers still had them confused, but it was just a matter of time before their own ECM craft would find us.

A short time, as it turned out. First we picked up a strong signal from an ECM ship, and then four of the fighter emissions steadied on us. Busted!

I broke comm silence and ordered our unarmed jammers and all patrol craft back to the ship. I called for fighter cover, but the nearest good guys had gone chasing a BW ECM decoy, and they were half an hour away. We were on our own.

Maniac and I went active. Damn, they were close! Four Banshees "above" us and closing fast. We peeled off and headed for them.

"Status, Maniac?"

"What are you, my mother? I'm fine! Let's take these backwoods baboons!"

"Stay with me, Maniac! And stay off the comm. I have an idea." I had, in fact, been saving a particularly nasty taunt for just such an occasion.

As usual, the BWs squandered their gibes prematurely.

"I'm gonna barbecue you chickens!"

"Yeah, barbecue!"

"Any last requests?"

"Fly or die, losers!"

Good, all males. I selected general broadcast. "Hey, butt--"

"You're up against the Maniac, bozos!" Shit! Maniac was hogging the channel! "Now why don't you make like a tree, and get out of town!"

Too late. The moment had passed. I upped shield power and headed straight for the trailer on my side. I had to take one out fast, and he seemed the best prospect. I launched my IR at about ten thousand klicks and tried to gun down his shields. His leader, however, took me under fire, and I sustained a number of shield hits forward. As I pulled up hard, I prayed the leader would stick around and fight.

No such luck. He and a wingman were blazing for the lander. I fired a couple of shots, but they were quickly out of range.

Maniac had nailed his man, and mine was severely damaged. "Maniac, follow me! Maybe we can still save the--"

"With you in a minute, Ace! Got some housekeeping to do first." Oh, shit, Maniac was going after my cripple! Damn! Damn! Damn!

My mind raced as fast as the fighter I flew. With only two targets, the odds of success were poorer, but maybe my taunt could still save the day. I fought down my despair and addressed the leader calmly.

"Hey, butt-breath! What do you call a Border Worlder who gets lots of sex?"

"Uh, 'stud?'"

"No! A sheep herder! Bwahahaha!"

With the lander nearly in his sights, he was so confident of victory that I caught him off guard. "Why, you damn city slicker, my father was a sheep herder!"

"Then I guess your mother is a ewe! Hahahaha!"

"Aaarrggghh! I'll get you, you--"

I cut him off. No time to gloat. My plan had two parts, and both had to work. Quickly I commed his wingman, and jeered, "Hey, buttmunch! Your leader tells you two do threesomes with sheep!"

"That bastard! I never touched that little ewe--" Click. Now sit back, Blair, and watch the fireworks.

It was beautiful. The leader, in his vengeful wrath, never noticed his "buddy" coming up behind him. He was a better flier, but his pal got in a free tail shot for openers. I reduced power and watched in satisfaction as they dueled to the death. Yes, I would definitely have to send this one to the Guinness Book of Taunts. My Tauntmaster would have been so proud of me!

The duel climaxed in a desperate head-on pass that left both Banshees crippled. I was tempted to finish them off, but I decided it was more artistic to let them reflect on their own gullibility. I basked for a moment in the afterglow of pure creation. Maybe I should have been a holopainter...

I shook myself out of my fantasy. Time to collect Maniac and make tracks. The other BW fighters would be here pretty--

"Well, lookie here! More Maniac munchies!"

Oh, shit, that uncultured boob was going to ruin my masterpiece! I fingered my weapon systems... No. Getting angry at Maniac would spoil my mood, and even the satisfaction of toasting his short hairs might not bring it back. I could, however, salvage some of my work.

"Watch it, Gomers! Shore patrol! Eject! Eject! Ej--" Wow, they must have punched out within a microsecond of each other! Just in time, too. Maniac nailed both fighters with a couple of blaster shots. I made sure their beacons were operating before I formed with Maniac and set course for home.

"Woohoo! Six kills in one mission, Ace! Am I great, or what? Hey, how did you do? Let's see, I count...one...two...two... Gee, looks like you came up four SHORT! Hahaha!"

I permitted myself an indulgent smile. Babble on, peasant. I am serene in my muse.

"Y'know," continued Maniac. 'Great' doesn't really cover it. 'Stupendous,' maybe? Am I--dare I say it?--'magnificent?' Yes, I think that just about..."

*

For once, I was glad to see Lt. Garr on my comm. And he was just as sour and nasty as ever. Good.

"Well! A successful mission, Colonel. Why, that's...one in a row! My congratulations, sir. You have clearance."

I smiled pleasantly and mouthed my reply, but actually pronounced only an occasional syllable as softly as I could. "...you...ready...land." Now if only...

"You're breaking up, Colonel. Boosting the gain." Garr reached for his comm controls. "Say again, sir. I repeat, say again."

Now! I turned my own transmit volume to full and yelled at the top of my lungs! "HOW'S THIS!!"

Garr screamed shrilly and clawed frantically at his earpiece. Mercilessly, I fiddled with my controls to produce screeching static. Take that! And that! Hahahaha!

Finally, Garr managed to wrench away his earpiece. He sat, whimpering, with both hands over his ear.

I reset the controls. "Er, sorry, Vinny. Must be a malfunction in my comm system. Battle damage, don't ya know." Heh heh heh.

*

I was completely unprepared for the crowd awaiting us as Maniac and I pulled up to our maintenance bays. Maniac, of course, was always prepared. He quickly popped his canopy, climbed up on his seat, and doffed his helmet.

"Thank you! Thank you!" He waved his hand. "In all modesty, I must say that six kills in one mission is not my all-time record, but..." He stopped when he noticed that nobody was listening.

When I popped my own canopy, the crowd went wild. Cheers, applause, and congratulations reverberated from one end of the flight deck to the other. Someone clambered up the ladder to take my helmet and clap me on the back.

"Stu!" I cried in surprise. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"After what you just did? Oh yes, sir!"

With one huge arm, he plucked me out of my seat and set me on the ladder. Wobbling with exhaustion, I made my way to the bottom, where I was immediately mobbed by screaming crewmen. Othello pounded my back in joyous celebration. Sockette gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I managed to shake hands briefly with an approving Monk before my hand was torn away and pressed by other eager well-wishers.

There was a momentary break in the crowd, and then I was engulfed by Kylla's girlfriends. Amid hugs and kisses, I looked in vain for Ensign Watt herself... there! She was clapping enthusiastically, lovely lips drawn into a beautiful smile. I looked at the groupies around me, then back at her, and winked. She nodded and gave me a thumbs-up.

Suddenly the crowd quieted. I looked around for the reason, and spotted Captain Eisen approaching. Uh-oh, from the scowl on his face, it looked like he didn't appreciate our impromptu celebration.

I was unkempt, unshaven, and quivering with fatigue, but I stiffened to an approximation of attention and saluted as best I could. He returned my salute without batting an eye. He stopped less than a meter away and looked me up and down contemptuously, tapping that damn swagger stick against his leg. Then his face broke into a huge grin, and he offered me his hand.

"Congratulations, Colonel! Excellent work!"

If anything, the crowd's response was louder than before. Amid cheers and acclaim, I grasped the Captain's hand warmly. I shouted to make myself heard over the din. "Thank you, Captain! But all this for one hostage?"

He stared at me blankly. "Hostage?" he shouted. "Ohhhh, the hostage! No! This is for nailing that twerp, Lemonlips!"

End of Chapter 7

Previews from Chapter 8:

"Our top story tonight: the macabre tale of the Confed transport Annabel Lee..."

"You see, I'm falling for you, flyboy; and that wasn't supposed to happen."

"Captain, the Lexington task force is to move immediately to the Masa system, where we will join with the Third Fleet."

Chapter 8

Debriefing was mercifully short. The Intel officers were hot to get their paws on the Marines and their "package," so I was dismissed after giving a cursory summary of the mission. Maniac, of course, attempted to describe his kills at great length, but Intel wasn't interested in his feats today. Not that they ever were.

Captain Eisen had ordered the wing to stand down while our task force raced for the nearest jump point. From our patrol reports, we probably outmatched the oncoming Border World task force, but a general engagement could easily trigger the full-scale war we were trying to avoid. So, except for a few pilots on routine CAP, my tired warriors could rest. And so could I.

Yet, exhausted as I was, sleep once again eluded me. I guess my nerves were still frazzled from the last two missions to Whitewall. On one, I had come within a whisker of getting killed; on the other, I had very nearly lost a platoon of Marines. I tossed and turned in an uneasy half-sleep filled with a cacaphony of missile alarms and screaming men.

As a last resort, I called up the latest Nightly News. The beautiful and talented Barbara Dahl never failed to soothe me to sleep.

"Good evening. This is the TCN Nightly News. I'm Barbara Dahl." Ahhhhh. I felt more relaxed already. Damn, she looked especially cute today.

As usual, I tried to adjust the 3-D view to see up her skirt, but, as usual, the holoview showed nothing below the desk. She could be completely bottomless for all I knew, a thought that I found absurdly amusing in my fatigued state.

"Our top story tonight: the macabre tale of the Confed transport Annabel Lee, attacked two days ago in the Hellespont system by unknown forces. The military has ordered a complete news blackout, but we at TCN have learned that all aboard were killed by some unknown weapon that left the ship itself completely unharmed. More than one hundred passengers and crew are known dead."

She set down her papers and looked earnestly into the holocams. "The Nightly News has just obtained a classified report about a similar tragedy over a month ago. According to informed sources, the transport Amadeus, bound for Megaron with hundreds of war refugees, suffered exactly the same fate."

What? Why hadn't Admiral Tolwyn mentioned that? Forewarned, we might have saved the Annabel Lee!

"We at the Nightly News can only speculate as to why such vital information was withheld from the public. The last time government censorship was imposed to such an extent was during the final months of the Kilrathi War, when mankind faced utter annihilation. Do we now face a threat of similar proportions?"

At first glance, that seemed a bit over-sensationalized. On the other hand, if the current problems degenerated into civil war, it would be nearly as bad as the Kilrathi War.

"Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn, the man charged with investigating these and other recent incidents of piracy and terrorism, has agreed to speak with us tonight. Admiral Tolwyn?"

A three-dimensional image of the Admiral materialized next to Barbara.

"Good evening, Barbie. It's a pleasure to see you again." It was vintage Tolwyn. He was charming, relaxed, and self-assured.

"Don't call me 'Barbie!'" Barbara, to her credit, was immune to his charm. "Admiral, why has the military covered up the two incidents I've described? How many other tragedies have been withheld from the public?"

Tolwyn kept his cool. "These incidents were not 'covered up' as you put it, Barbara. Given the current highly volatile relations between the Confederation and the Border Worlds, I deemed it inadvisable to release such potentially explosive news before a thorough investigation had been conducted. As you know, certain reckless elements--including some in the news media--would only exploit premature reports to fan hysteria against the Border Worlds."

She looked doubtful. "But Admiral Tolwyn, it's well known--despite military censorship--that numerous terrorist acts have been linked to Border Worlds personnel. In fact, dozens of Border World pirates were taken prisoner in the Hellespont system alone."

"You see, Barbara? Even a level-headed journalist such as yourself can't help jumping to conclusions. We have indeed captured Border Worlders--along with numerous prisoners of Confederation and other origins. But after exceptionally thorough investigation, we have found no hard evidence--let me repeat--NO hard evidence whatsoever that any of the Border World governments are involved in any way."

Barbara looked at him skeptically. "So you're saying, Admiral, that you believe the Border World governments are innocent?"

Tolwyn smiled indulgently. "I'm saying, Barbara, that the evidence so far is ambiguous. To draw conclusions now is dangerously premature."

"Thank you, Admiral Tolwyn."

"Catch you later, Barbie!" Tolwyn fired his imaginary gun at her and disappeared.

Barbara turned back to the holocams. "We can only wish the Admiral speedy success in finding these criminals and bringing them to justice. Coming up next: a special report on the upcoming primary elections."

I turned off the holovid. I felt a lot better about our mission after seeing Tolwyn's interview. He might be out for glory and publicity, but at least he refused to be stampeded into rash action. Maybe the old man really did know what he was doing.

Presently I fell into a peaceful sleep.

*

After a quick breakfast, I headed for the infirmary. Now that we were back in Confederation space, I had wing exercises to plan and supervise in preparation for our delayed mission to Minos. But I had to clear the air with Taysti first. Whether or not we continued our relationship, she had to understand that it couldn't affect flight operations again. I had used up my nine lives long ago.

As I rounded the last corner, the sick bay door suddenly slid open and Garr stepped out. I froze, hoping he would head the other way, toward the bridge. He adjusted the small regen pack over his ear, cursed, and turned...toward the bridge. Whew! I waited until he was out of sight before I went in myself.

Lt. Disch looked up from her ubiquitous clipboard as I entered the anteroom. "Colonel, what did you do to Lt. Garr? I have to regenerate a whole new eardrum for him."

"Er, it was an accident. Look, Taysti, we have to talk. Your office?"

She nodded. I followed her in and closed the door behind me. We were going to have this out, and I wanted no interruptions. Whether she believed me or not, I was determined to tell her the truth about Ensign Watt.

She was so beautiful, standing there defiantly with her hands on her hips and a slight blush of anger on her cheeks. I shook off an urge to embrace her, and instead waved my index finger angrily. "Now let's get one thing straight here, Lieutenant! You just can't--"

"Oh, Chris!" Suddenly she was on the verge of tears. "Chris, I've been an idiot! Can you forgive me?"

Huh?

"O-oh yeah?" I couldn't shift gears that fast. "Forgive you for what?"

"Chris, I had a long talk with Ensign Watt. She told me everything. I'm so ashamed!"

"Watt? H-how did you...?"

"Lex suggested I talk to her. Afterward, Lex confirmed everything she said. Chris, you're such a good man, and I treated you like dirt."

Whoa. AIs weren't supposed to get involved in the crew's personal lives, and they were NOT supposed to disclose personal conversations to third parties. Of course, Lex had shown on numerous occasions that she--it--wasn't normal, but...

Well, forget about that. I had to reassure Taysti before she started bawling. "Taysti, I'm not angry. Come here, hon." She ran to me and I and took her in my arms. Oh, boy, she felt so right there.

She hugged me fiercely. "Oh, Chris, Chris..."

"Taysti..."

*

Taysti always dressed faster than I did. She looked at me thoughtfully as I finished my last zipper.

"You know, Chris, I did a lot of thinking after I talked to Kylla. I shouldn't have minded even if you two really did... After all, we made no commitments, and I staked no claim."

She came closer. "That's when I realized why I was so upset. You see, I'm falling for you, flyboy; and that wasn't supposed to happen."

I sandwiched her hands between mine and, for once, gave her a serious answer. "I'm...fond of you, too, Taysti. But before this goes any farther, you'd better ask yourself if you can love a farmer. Because that's what I was, and that's what I'll be again when this whole business is over."

"I-I don't know, Chris. But I'll think about it...real hard." Her frown turned into a mischievous smile. "In the meantime, I believe you still owe me a urine sample!" She reached down and unzipped me again. "Need some help?"

"Mmmm, that sounds--"

"Oh, give it a rest, you two!" Lex! Of course.

"Butt out, Lex." I was still in the mood. Her eyes were closed, her lips warm and moist and--

"The Captain wants his senior officers on the flight deck! Now! By some quirk of a perverse cosmos, that includes you, Old MacDonald! Now move it!"

OK, OK. I gave Taysti a quick peck on the lips and took off.

*

I dodged crew members, bounced off bulkheads, and slid down ladders. As I ran, Lex filled me in.

"Company's coming, Earthworm. You'd think they'd give us advance notice, but noooooo! The CAP nearly shot the shuttle out of space before it flashed the recognition codes."

I flung myself into the lift and paused for breath between decks. "Who is it, Lex?"

"Somebody big. That's all I know. I searched recent comm traffic, but this visit wasn't on the channels I'm authorized to monitor. Or the ones I'm not, either."

The lift stopped at my deck, but I blocked the door for a moment. "Look, Lex, thanks for squaring things with--"

"Don't mention it. You organic so-called 'intelligences' need all the help you can get from the real thing."

"Er, yeah." I let the door open and sprinted for Flight Control. I made a mental note to read up on computer viruses. Lex was overdue for a cold.

*

Maniac and I rushed onto the flight deck just as the shuttle touched down. The Captain was waiting for us with his two senior officers. Even in my haste, I took a moment to admire the ship's First Officer, who was looking especially pretty today.

I lined up on Eisen's right, with Maniac on mine. "Who is it, Captain?" I asked. Had Admiral Tolwyn decided to check up on us personally?

"Captain Gant."

Uh-oh.

"'Straight' Aaro Gant?" exclaimed Maniac. "Hoo boy, are WE in trouble!"

I was inclined to agree. Gant had a reputation as the toughest disciplinarian in Confed. Despite his distinguished combat record, naval personnel fought tooth and nail to avoid being assigned to his ship.

The shuttle hatch opened and Captain Gant stepped onto the ramp. He was about my size--a point in his favor--with a trim, rock-solid body that belied his gray hair. His unsmiling face might have been chiseled out of granite. He paused for a moment, standing ramrod-straight, then strutted down the ramp.

Maniac whispered in my ear. "Jeez, who stuck the two-by-four up his ass?"

"Ain't he the cock-of-the-walk?" I agreed. He swaggered toward us with his nose in the air, as if he were looking at something above us. I had to fight an urge to look up also.

"What's he looking at?" asked Maniac, craning his neck.

"Will you two shut up!" hissed Captain Eisen. Gant had almost reached us.

He stopped in front of Captain Eisen, sprang to attention--clicking his boot heels together--and saluted. "Captain Aaro Gant, attached to the Third Fleet!"

Eisen returned the salute, then held out his hand. "Welcome to the Lexington, Captain Gant. May I introduce my senior officers? My First Officer, Commander Seccent..." They shook hands. "My Second Officer, Lt. Commander Furst. And these gentlemen lead the fighter wing: Colonel Blair and Major Marshall."

Gant turned his attention to us. "Yes, I've heard quite a bit about both-- Er, what the devil are you two looking at?"

Damn, I had looked up after all. "Uh, nothing, sir." I clasped Captain Gant's hand with my usual firm grip, and--eeewww, it was like holding limp spaghetti. As Gant shook hands with Maniac, I furtively glanced at Seccent and Furst, who were wiping their their hands on their uniforms. I fought down the temptation to do the same, at least in front of Gant.

Captain Gant scrutinized me closely. "Say, Colonel, aren't you the guy from--"

"Er, no, sir, I'm not." I prayed he wouldn't press the issue.

"Hmph. I could have sworn... Well, never mind." He turned back to Eisen.

"Captain, the Lexington task force is to move immediately to the Masa system, where we will join with the Third Fleet."

'We?' Was this pompous son-of-a-bitch coming with us? And why were we going back to BW territory? Why weren't we resuming our postponed anti-piracy sweep of Minos?

Captain Eisen was clearly as surprised as I. "Captain Gant, may I ask why we're going to Masa?"

"I'm carrying sealed orders which will explain everthing. I'd like to discuss them with you now, if I may." He looked around at the rest of us. "Privately, if you don't mind?" It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.

I exchanged glances with Seccent and Furst. What the devil was going on here? It was Captain Eisen's habit to share all data with his senior officers.

My instant dislike for Gant led me into rashness. I gave Captain Eisen the agreeable smile he'd learned to fear during our tour on the old Victory. "That's OK, Captain. WE understand, DON'T WE?" I winked at the others.

Maniac, ever the cut-up, joined the fun. "We do? Ohhhh, SURE we do. Say no more, Captain Eisen, nudge nudge." He winked elaborately at Gant.

Seccent picked up the cue. She elbowed Captain Eisen. "Sure, you CAPTAINS need your PRIVACY. For, you know, CAPTAIN-type stuff." She winked at Furst.

"Yeah. We wouldn't want to INTRUDE while you two...well, YOU know." He winked at Captain Eisen, who by now was probably wishing he'd joined the Marines.

The four of us wandered off together, nudging and winking at each other, and directing occasional knowing looks back at Gant and Eisen. The two of them just stood there, staring at us. I was the last one up the stairs to Flight Control, so I caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Captain Eisen, how the hell did you wind up with those clowns?"

"I guess in a previous life, I must have done something really, really bad. Like acting in a sitcom. Er, perhaps we should adjourn to my cabin."

*

Seccent had the watch, so she headed directly back to the bridge. Furst, Maniac, and I headed for the Officers' Lounge. I often found it easier to instruct rookies in the relaxed atmosphere of the lounge, and I figured this was a good time to see if they had drawn the right lessons from our last excursion to Whitewall.

Unfortunately, it seemed most of the rookies were still sacked out. I spotted Catskill and Vagabond playing cards at the center table--Catskill was the only one dumb enough to come back for more--and Kylla at a corner table with an engineer I didn't know. Vero and Hazard were playing chess over by the window. Lieutenant Garr was by himself--of course--near the other exit. We glared briefly at each other.

Maniac, of course, insisted we hit the bar first. He ordered a Hell's Attic for himself and beers for Furst and me. I signed a "V" to Pilsner, and he brought me a Virgin Mary instead. The three of us wandered over to kibitz the card game.

Lt. Commander Furst seemed to have something on his mind. "You know, Colonel, I'm not really surprised Confed HQ sent somebody out here. Did you know the Captain has been bombarding HQ with questions about nearly every assignment they've given us?"

Uh-oh. Had the Captain been making a nuisance of himself? "I knew he had some doubts about our orders, Schaef. I didn't know he'd made a fuss with HQ."

Schaefer downed half his beer. "Oh, yeah. Big time. Seems he doesn't trust your pal Tolwyn."

"That's no surprise. Tolwyn took the Victory away from him once when it looked like the War was nearly over. But I think Tolwyn knows what he's doing. If our orders were botched, it probably happened in the chain of command."

"Maybe," replied Furst skeptically. "I just hope Tolwyn will stand up for the old man if he gets in trouble. You mark my words. Gant is bad news, or my name isn't Schaefer T. Furst." He finished his beer and checked his watch. "I'd better get some sack time before I go on watch. See you."

"Mm." I was too preoccupied to do more than mumble a farewell. Did HQ really need to send our new orders by courier, or was Gant here to spy on Eisen? Was Gant working for Tolwyn, or was somebody in Confed HQ working against--

"That guy worries too much." Maniac was ever the optimist. "He never takes the time to appreciate the finer things in life, like..."

"Like what, Maniac?"

"Like that bodacious bioconvergence chemist we picked up on Tyr VII. I was talking to my Marine pal, and he says she is one fine example of feminine pulchritude." For emphasis, his hands described an hourglass shape in the air.

"'Bioconvergence?' 'Pulchritude?' Since when did you start using words with more than two syllables, Maniac?"

"Hey! You want to impress an intellectual, you gotta BE an intellectual! And when it comes to impressing women, the Maniac always RISES to the occasion, if you know what I mean, heh heh."

Oh yeah, I knew all too well. "Maniac, you don't even know the meaning of the term 'bioconvergence.'"

"Oh, and I suppose you do, plowboy?"

"Sure I do." I crossed my fingers behind my back to alert Catskill and Vagabond. "It's a branch of evolutionary biology dealing with convergent evolution. You know, how unrelated species evolve into similar forms because of similar lifestyles."

Vagabond chimed in right on cue. "Oh, you mean like the Kilrathi evolving to look like Terran cats--lions and tigers--because of similar predatory habits?"

"Exactly. Good, Vagabond. Or how Terran sea mammals--dolphins--evolved a fish shape. Or how the ground borers on Nephritis 2 resemble earthworms."

"Wait a sec, Ace." Maniac was frantically scribbling notes. "Convergent evolution...Kilrathi...dolphins...borers..."

Catskill jumped in with both feet. "Or Terran cats and catfish! Right, sir?"

Oh, brother. "Er, yeah, sort of, Catskill."

"...catfish." Maniac was quivering with joy. "This is great stuff, Ace! Oh boy, am I gonna impress this egghead!" Suddenly he turned suspicious. "So how come you know so much about bioconvergence, Mr. Wizard?"

I acted surprised that he could even ask. "Well, you have to know these things when you're a farmer, Maniac."

"Yeah," he answered absently. "I suppose you do. Well, I'm gonna go do some cramming. See ya!"

We barely managed to contain ourselves until he was out the door.

"Woo hoo hoo!" Vagabond burst into laughter. "Colonel, do you think it's possible to strike out on one pitch? Heeheehee!"

"Hahahaha! Well, if anybody can do it, Maniac can! Hohohoho!" I nudged Catskill in the ribs, but he didn't respond. He was looking warily at the bar. I followed his gaze, and saw that Vero had gone up to freshen her drink. She flashed Catskill a sultry smile and blew him a kiss.

Catskill shuddered and buried his face in his cards. I noted that, contrary to his usual practice, he was drinking only seltzer today. I tried to imagine the kid, drunk and helpless in sick bay, in the clutches of two predatory females, and shuddered myself. He'd probably never submit to a physical again.

After long thought, Catskill took a card from his hand and laid it on the pile. Vagabond promptly picked it up and arrayed his own cards on the table.

"Gin!"

"Aw, man! Well, I've had enough for today, Captain Chang." Catskill pushed his chair back and stood up. "I did do a little better today, didn't I?"

Vagabond nodded. "You have come a short way on the path to enlightenment, grasshopper." He gathered up the money on the table and put it in his pocket.

I waited for Catskill to leave, then turned to Vagabond. "I suppose he'll reach 'enlightenment' about the time--"

"--his money runs out. Heh heh. How about you, Colonel? You haven't tried your luck in quite a while..."

I threw ten credits on the table. "How about I just pay you now and save us both some time?"

He grinned. "I see, my friend, that you have already achieved enlightenment!"

*

We were eighteen hours from the Masa jump point when Gant came aboard. I used the time to drill my pilots some more and to get to know their flying styles a bit better. I wanted to work on plans for our upcoming missions in the Masa system, but Intel refused to release any recent data. I tried to get the Captain to override them, but Lex reported that he and Gant were "conferring," and not available.

Out of frustration, I tagged Vagabond for a combat air patrol, and we spent a couple of hours in leisurely flight, topped off with some vacubatics and mock dogfights. I reveled in the sheer pleasure of flight, and in the memories reawakened by having Vagabond on my wing.

We were an hour from the jump point when Lex called me to the briefing room. It was about time. I was making the usual preparations for jumping into an unknown situation, but I needed a better idea of what we'd be facing. Maybe Captain Eisen would finally fill me in.

*

I ran into Maniac just outside the briefing room. "What are you doing here, Maniac? You're supposed to be sacked out."

Maniac was in his usual cheery "morning" mood. "That damn AI bitch woke me up and sent me here. What's going on, Ace? I thought your pal Eisen always briefed you alone."

I shook my head in bafflement. "Beats me, Maniac. Maybe it has something to do with Captain Gant's visit." I activated the door and we stepped inside.

"That fucking little blowhard? Next time I see him I'm gonna give him a piece of--"

"A piece of what, Major?" Uh-oh, Captain Gant was waiting by the holotank! I looked around, but Captain Eisen was nowhere to be seen.

Maniac frantically tried to cover up. "Er...pie! A piece of ship's pie! It's very g--"

"Knock it off, Major! You two may have gotten away with that crap under Eisen, but I will not tolerate any of your antics! Do you read me, gentlemen?"

Maniac and I both sprang to attention and nodded vigorously. Holy shit, how come Gant was suddenly giving the orders?

"Er, no disrespect, Captain, but what--"

"Captain Eisen has been assigned to other duties, Colonel. Orders from Confed. I now command this vessel." He stood in front of me and stuck his face one centimeter from mine. "ANY PROBLEMS WITH THAT?"

"No, sir," I squeaked. It looked like Screw Blair Week had been extended indefinitely.

Gant looked at Maniac, who shook his head. "No, sir. In fact, sir, if I may say, sir, it's a definite improvement in--"

Gant cut him off. "Good. I think we understand each other. To business, then. If I may direct your attention-- Gentlemen, perhaps you see something interesting above us?"

Dammit, I'd done it again. "Er, nothing, sir. Please continue."

"Hmph." He leaned over the holotank. "Confed Intel believes it has identified the military research lab that developed the weapon used on the Amadeus and the Annabel Lee. It is located in the Masa system."

Huh? That didn't sound right. "Er, Captain Gant, isn't it pretty unlikely that the Border Worlders would carry out their most secret weapons research so close to Confed territory? Surely they'd find a safer--"

"No one ever accused the Border Worlders of being geniuses, Colonel. In any case, this is our first chance to gather some solid evidence, and we must take it. Now the Third Fleet has gone in ahead of us and closed off the jump points to isolate Masa from reinforcements. As soon as we jump in, we launch our strike."

Gant paused for emphasis. "Gentlemen, Intel believes the Border Worlders will destroy the lab rather than let it fall into our hands. It is imperative that you prevent that."

"Leeches," said Maniac. "Maybe six, eight tops. Their main systems will be fried, including self-destruct mechanisms. The problem is..." He looked over at me.

Maniac might be reluctant to cross Gant, but I wasn't, not when innocent lives were at stake. "The problem is, Captain, that life support will also go out. The people on that station will die if we don't get the Marines aboard in time to restore minimal functions."

Captain Gant was unmoved. "Regrettable, but necessary, Colonel. The lander must stand out of sensor range until the lab is disabled, otherwise it may spook the BWs into self-destruct. Gentlemen, I'm confident you won't let the Confederation down."

Maniac and I snapped to attention and saluted. Gant returned our salutes with parade-ground precision. "Dismissed."

As I turned to go, Gant stopped me. "Oh, Colonel, would you remain behind for a moment?" Uh-oh.

I stood at ease in front of the Captain. "Sir?"

His question was casual, but I sensed danger. "Have you been talking with the Second Officer, Colonel?"

"Furst, sir?" Now why would he care if I was talking to Lt. Cmdr. Furst?

"Not First, dammit! Second!"

Seccent? "The First Officer, sir?" Damn, I wished he'd make up his mind.

"COLONEL, ARE YOU MOCKING ME?"

Why was he so pissed off? "No, sir. I-I guess I don't understand what you're asking." Please, just get me out of this, God, and I'll be good for a week!

"Maybe I can help you understand! You're restricted to quarters, except for missions, for the next twenty-four hours, so you can think about it!"

Oh no! Disch! "Er, sir, I have an appointment at the, uh, infirmary."

"Cancel it! Dammit, I've never served on a ship that had so many men on sick call! Dismissed!"

I got out of there as quickly as I could. I still didn't understand what he was trying to-- Vinny! That bastard had reported my conversation with Furst! Now why the hell didn't Gant want me talking with bridge officers?

*

I asked Lex to break the bad news to Disch; I'd be violating the terms of my confinement if I went myself. Since I'd be better off flying than brooding in my cabin, I headed for First Squadron's ready room to plan the mission with Maniac and Lt. Hedd, the Marine platoon leader.

I was determined to make it a bloodless operation. After debating various options for nearly half an hour, we finally came up with a workable plan. First, Second, and Fifth Squadrons would fake a strike at the defenses of Mesa, the second planet in the Masa system. Immediately after the spacelab detected and reported the strike, Hippie and I would take out their sensor and comm antennas, as if trying to cover the strike. Then we'd stand off until the lander arrived--covered by Third Squadron--which would be our cue to leech the station.

The whole plan depended on convincing the Border Worlders that Mesa, not the lab, was the real target--at least until it was too late to blow the lab. It was a risk, but one I was willing to take to save lives.

I huddled with Lt. Hedd. "Djar, I want you to draw as much life support gear as you can fit in the lander. As soon as you secure the lab, try to restore life support before grabbing any evidence."

"You bet, Colonel." Lt. Hedd wanted a clean operation as much as I did. "We won't lose anybody, not if I can help it."

"Good man." I hesitated. This wasn't strictly business, but... "Say, Djar, about that 'package' you retrieved from Tyr VII--is she as pretty as I've heard?"

Hedd assumed the expression of one who had seen God. "Colonel, there are no words to describe her. You'll just have to see for yourself. Unfortunately, the Captain's ordered her kept under guard. Not even the Intel guys can see her."

Shit. "Thanks, Djar. Better round up your men and equipment."

"Yes, sir."

*

We jumped into Masa without incident. As promised, the jump point was firmly in Confed hands. The CAP launched first, followed by the long-range patrols. Hippie and I walked onto the flight deck as the last Longbow cleared the deck.

"Hey, Blair-dude, are you, like, sure you want us to go in with just leechies, man?" Hippie, usually cool as a drugged cucumber, was uneasy about our missile loadouts. "What if we gotta, like, shoot from the hip?"

I put a hand on his shoulder. "This will be a milk run. Trust me, Hippie."

He squinted at me. "Yeah, but aren't you, like, over thirty?"

I shook my head.

"Cool!" Relieved, Hippie walked to his fighter with a spring in his step. I hated to lie to the guy, but what can you expect from someone pushing forty?

Chief Rench and his crew were huddled next to my Hellcat. They didn't look very happy.

I held up my hand in a placating gesture. "Look, Monk, I'll try to take care--"

"Oh, that's OK, sir. We're just...uneasy about this mission. You see, Stu here is from the Border Worlds originally. And my sister married a pilot in the Border Worlds Militia. They live here in Masa."

"Monk, I don't like going against these guys any more than you do. That's why we're loaded with leeches, so nobody gets hurt. Now my guess is that the Marines won't find a damn thing on that station. Maybe then Intel will realize they're barking up the wrong tree, and we can go back to pirate hunting."

Sockette interrupted. "I hope you're right, sir. But we're running low on leech missiles. If we do end up flying more missions in Border World areas..."

I hesitated. If Intel was part of the terrorist conspiracy, as I was beginning to suspect... "Better requisition more, Sockette, just in case." On that gloomy note, I climbed up into my fighter.

*

"Station detected, Hippie. Let's go to full speed." Right on schedule. We just had a few minutes before they would spot our "strike" on Masa II.

"Man, we got some heavy dudes coming at us now!" Shit! Hippie was right. Two Avengers had just launched from the station. I prayed that was all the fighter cover they had. We had to save our missiles for the station itself.

"Ready to rock these guys, sir!" At least they hadn't dampened Hippie's enthusiasm.

"Break and attack, Hippie!" I targeted the fighter closest to me.

"Sure thing, dude!" My wingman split to port to give us both some fighting room.

OK, Blair, you can outfly a heavy, just don't go head to head. Lower gun energy--you don't want to kill him--and direct it to shield regen. Closer... Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Missile! Decoy! Decoy! Fire a couple of shots to distract him! Bang! Bang! He's firing, corkscrew! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy! Pull up! Whoopwho-- Hah! Missed!

Whoosh! He passed me! Roll right and pull! Yeah, he's turning, but I'm more maneuverable! I'm on his tail! Leech locking! Bam! Bam! Shit, I'm getting nailed by that damn mass driver in the tail! Dance, Blair, dance! Keep him in view, locking, locking...locked! Close the range! Launch! Dance...Splat! He's helpless! Whew, that wasn't so hard. Where's Hippie?

"Low-life zapped, sir!" All right! Hippie had pulled off a nearly identical maneuver, except that he had taken some armor hits forward. Guess he'd learned about the Avenger's stinger the hard way.

We reformed and zoomed in on the station to knock out its defenses. There were only two laser turrets, a circumstance which further convinced me that Intel was barking up the wrong tree. Surely a military lab would be better defended!

By now they must have spotted our decoy force. I checked the comm...yup, a frantic stream of coded messages was leaving the station. Hippie and I knocked out the sensor arrays first, then the comm antennas. I called in the lander and its Hellcat escort, then we moved out of visual range of the station.

Just before the lander came into visual range, Hippie and I afterburned back to the lab. We strafed it just enough to weaken a shield quadrant, then launched our leeches. One, two, three each... Yes! Power was out all over the lab.

Lt. Hedd came on the comm. "Thanks for clearing us a path, Colonel. We're moving in." The lander came in dangerously fast, but managed to dock smoothly.

I tuned in to the Marine command channel.

"Corridor secured, sir."

"Lift secured."

"Command center secured. No resistance. Seven prisoners."

"Medic to hangar bay."

"Electrical generator to the main lab."

So far it was going like clockwork.

A couple of BW Avengers showed up on our scopes, followed by two more. But we had a full Hellcat squadron covering the lander, and there was no way the BWs could get by us to destroy the station, if that was indeed their mission.

Finally we heard from Lt. Hedd. "This tin can's all ours, Colonel. We got the computer records and some lab equipment. No casualties--on either side."

"Good work, Lieutenant. Let's head for home."

*

We were nearly to the Lexington when Lt. Hedd called me on a tight beam.

"Sir, I think you're right about that not being a military lab. We didn't find any self-destruct mechanism, or even any weapons. They had a lot of plants growing in the labs, but no animals. All the prisoners we interrogated said it's an agro lab."

Hah! I was right. "Any hypersonic generators? Any modulated sonic equipment of any kind?"

"No sir. I'm no expert, but it looks like the equipment we captured and the data we downloaded were all related to gene-splicing."

"Thanks, Djar. Uh, we never had this conversation, OK?" I hated to act so paranoid, but by now I didn't trust anybody in Intel or at command level.

"What conversation, sir? Out." I brought up my comm recs and erased all traces of our talk. I hoped Hedd remembered to do the same.

*

"Need clearance, Lexington." Please, please be nursing your ear in your cabin, Vinny.

"Ah, Colonel." Shit! It was him, regen pack and all.

Dammit, I didn't have time for this vendetta, what with all the intrigue going on. Better make peace with him, Blair.

"Uh, look, Vinny. I'm sorry about that comm business, heh heh. What say we start fresh from here? OK?"

For a moment it actually looked like he was smiling. "Apology accepted, Colonel Blair. Peace it is. You have clearance."

Whew! That was one thing off my mind. I settled down to concentrate on my landing approach.

I came out of the final turn on a perfect approach path. If I didn't blow it, this would be my best landing of the tour so f--

"Colonel, important message." Vinny? He shouldn't be interrupting me at this crucial stage. I glanced at the comm screen.

POOF! A brilliant flash of static blasted from the screen! I was all but blinded! Desperately I tried to control my approach as afterimages danced on my retinas. Too late to abort, too late for autopilot, I had to ride her in!

SCREEEEEECH! My landing gear collapsed and I slid along the deck in a shower of sparks! As my vision improved marginally, I saw a parked Hellcat right in my path! Instantly I applied retros, bringing my fighter to a halt scant centimeters from the other ship. Whew!

I didn't wait for the emergency crew. I popped my canopy, tossed my helmet on the deck, and jumped down after it. This time I was going to beat that damn Garr into a bloody--

Somebody grabbed my arm. I whirled, ready to do battle. Nobody better get in my--uh-oh! The Landing Officer! Nominally, I outranked him, but in the area of landing safety, he was the final authority.

"Well, well, Colonel. Where did you learn to land Hellcats? KAMIKAZE SCHOOL? As soon as you're out of cabin arrest, report to me for twenty-five simulator landings!"

Dammit, I wasn't going to take the rap for something Garr did! "It wasn't my fault! Lieutenant Garr--"

"SILENCE! One more word out of you, and you'll do twenty-five more! Do I make myself clear?"

Shit. I was stuck. I turned my back on the son-of-a-bitch and strode off to the locker room with murder fantasies running through my mind.

End of Chapter 8

Previews from Chapter 9:

"You smug carbon-based bastard!"

"Hey, Huckleberries! Knock knock!"

"I'm told Captain Gant has new orders for you. Maybe it'll be something you can handle."

Chapter 9

To tell the truth, my cabin arrest wasn't so bad. I had lots of wing-related paperwork to catch up on and a serious sleep deficit to remedy. I also had a nasty AI virus to write for Lex, and I set to work with a will. During my long exile on that hellhole Caernarvon Station, I had passed the time by studying a number of arcane subjects, including fighter maintenance and AI programming. The former had come in handy on my last cruise--like the time Rachel and I replaced a Longbow power plant and made love in the empty chamber--and now the latter was also proving useful.

Nevertheless, I chafed at the "no visitors" rule. I was starting to question everything and everyone I had believed in prior to this tour. I badly needed to talk things over with Eisen, Vagabond, and...and Taysti. Against my will, I was falling for her, but the closer I got to her, the less likely it seemed that she'd ever come back to the farm with me.

My penance done, I stopped by Flight Control to check on current operations. Left in charge, Maniac had predictably scheduled himself for as many sorties as possible, but fortunately no combat resulted. The Border Worlders seemed content to repossess their lab and let our task force--along with the Third Fleet--leave Masa in peace. We were now en route to the Minos system, finally,to squelch pirate activity there.

Reassured, I reported to the Landing Officer, Major Martin Nette, for my simulator exercises. After three grueling hours of the toughest landing drill she could devise, I earned his grudging approval and a well-deserved rest. Major Nette earned a place of honor on my growing payback list.

I checked my watch. Taysti would be off duty soon, but I was still in an evil mood. Better to unwind a little in the lounge before I went to see her.

*

The Officers' Lounge was unusually crowded. The throng was also unusually male in composition. There was a knot of men at the bar, surrounding what I could only guess was one of the few females present.

Catfish, Vagabond, Miner, and Vero were playing cards at the center table. I pulled up a chair between Vero and Miner.

"Deal you in, Colonel?" Vagabond was shuffling the deck with his usual flair."We're playing bellybutton, five card draw."

I shook my head. I was pretty decent at bellybutton, a complex descendant of poker, but I was no match for Vagabond. "What's with the crowd? Looks like some kind of celebration."

Miner laughed. "More like a feeding frenzy. That biochemist we rescued from Tyr VII? Dr. Boddie? All of a sudden she pops up here, and the sharks crawl out of the woodwork. Except she harpoons 'em as fast as they surface."

Vero raised the bet and Vagabond folded. Catfish called her, but she won with a rat's nest. Catfish gathered up the cards and started shuffling.

"So any of you sharks try your luck with her?" I asked.

Vagabond made a face. "Down in flames, good buddy."

I looked at Catfish. He blushed. "Er, she wasn't interested, sir."

Miner added his two cents. "I struck out, Earthworm. Wasted my best lines,too." He sighed regretfully.

I looked hopefully at Vero, but she just shook her head. "I thought I had a nibble, but no bite." She smiled at me and my blood ran cold. "I don't suppose you'd be--"

"Er, no," I said hastily. "Uh, you see, Taysti and I..."

"Uh-huh," said Vagabond skeptically. "Ten credits says you forget Disch the second you lay eyes on Dr. Boddie." He glanced over at the bar, where two more disappointed Romeos had just given up. I caught a flash of hair the color of ripened wheat before the mob closed in again.

Catfish still had faith in his hero. "I'll cover that bet, Captain Chang!"

"You're on, rookie." Vagabond called Vero, who laid down two pair. Vagabond claimed the pot with a toilet flush. "Well, Casanova," he said to me, "what are you waiting for?"

"OK, OK." I wasn't keen on risking my relationship with Disch, but I was intensely curious about our egghead guest. It was no coincidence we had gone after a biochemist a couple of days before raiding what turned out to be a bioresearch lab. Now that Gant had let her out, maybe she could answer a few of the questions burning up my neural pathways.

I casually meandered up to the left side of the bar and took a seat. The crowd of men around Dr. Boddie was rapidly thinning as she politely, but firmly,rebuffed their advances. I sneaked a quick look at her and--Jesus Christ!

This was no mere woman! This was Woman, with a capital Wow! Golden hair tumbling carelessly past her shoulders; flawless, lightly tanned skin; small nose with a hint of a haughty upturn; full, sensuous lips--Dimples! She had dimples!--curving neck disappearing into shapeless fatigues that couldn't quite conceal the geometrically perfect figure beneath. She lounged against the barin a casual pose of athletic grace. Jesus, next to this babe, Disch looked like a guy.

Speak of the devil! Disch had come up on my blind side, quiet as a mouse. The first I knew she was there was when she spoke. "She's beautiful, isn't she,Chris?"

I jumped, my mind screaming in fear. Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Say something brilliant, Blair, or you'll be singing soprano!

"Er, I hadn't noticed, Taysti." Doh!

She laughed without humor. "Yeah, right. Your eyes just about popped out of your skull! Now try telling me you don't want her."

OK, you've blown it already, Blair, you might as well go down in flames."Maybe you're right, Taysti," I said with a calmness I didn't feel. "After all, SHE has a brilliant mind, drop-dead beauty, a bodacious body, a Nobel Prize... All YOU have is me."

She almost missed it. "Just as I--" Disch looked at me in surprise. "I do?"

"That is, if you want me..." I had to put just the right touch of uncertainty and vulnerability into my reply. It wasn't that hard, actually; I really didn't want to lose her.

Now she was confused. "Of course I do! How can you--Hey! You bastard,you're teasing me--mmpphhh!" I silenced her with a kiss. She struggled for just an instant before we melted together.

Finally I let her go. She just stood there for a moment with her eyes closed,giving me a chance to survey the room. Dr. Boddie was still the center of attention, which meant that only the card players had noticed my little indiscretion. Vagabond shook his head and handed some money to Catfish.

Whoops, Disch was back in the land of the living. "OK, Chris, I'm a jealous fool. Forgive me? Again?"

"Always, hon."

She smiled her dazzling smile. "I'd like to make up with you right now, lover,but I'm here on business. That damn Gant found out from Lex that my medical records are incomplete, and now he's insisting I bring everything up to date. I need that urine sample right now."

I looked around in confusion. "Uh, here?"

She reached behind the bar for a heavy tumbler. "No, dummy. Take this to the head and bring it back at least half full. Duhhh!"

I saluted and took off at the run. My mission was far from impossible; I really had to go this time.

When I got back, I noticed that the card game had broken up. Vero was at the bar, drinking with Disch. Dr. Boddie was alone except for...MANIAC? And she was actually TALKING to him? Jeez, the damned must be ice skating in hell!Judging by their expressions, the other men glaring at the unlikely duo were thinking the same thing.

I slipped in between Disch and Maniac, and set my tumbler on the bar. "Er,Taysti? Hon? Sweetie?" Jeez, here I'd performed like a champ, and all she could do was giggle with her girlfriend.

"Hey, Ace!" Maniac acted like he'd discovered his long-lost brother. "I was just telling Evvin Lee here how you and I are always concocting natural veggie mixes and--hey, what's this one?"

"Er, Maniac..." Before I could stop him, he'd taken a huge gulp of my "drink"and was thoughtfully swishing it around in his mouth.

That was when Taysti finally noticed I was back. "See, Chris? That wasn't so--Dammit, Chris, where's that urine sample?"

I jerked my thumb in Maniac's general direction. "Uh, Maniac has it."

Maniac tried to abort in mid-swallow. His eyes bulged, his face turned red,and he started to choke. Dr. Boddie spun him around to try and help. I helpfully pounded him on the back, whereupon he sprayed her with the full contents of his mouth. As she stood sputtering, he doubled over and coughed until he could cough no more.

Weakly, Maniac looked up just in time to catch Dr. Boddie's hand flush on his cheek. This time he went down on his keester. Hard. Dr. Boddie stalked off, ignoring the guffaws and "Atta girl!" comments from the frustrated Lotharios around her.

I checked the tumbler on the bar. "Sorry, Taysti, only half left."

"That's OK. It'll be just enough--"

Dr. Boddie had returned! She grabbed the glass before I could stop her, poured its contents on Maniac's head, then threw it at him. It bounced off his skull,and Maniac fell back on the deck, unconscious. This time Dr. Boddie exited to a standing ovation.

"Dammit!" Disch was understandably annoyed. Not only had she lost her sample,but now she also had to tend a patient soaked in urine. Fortunately, Pilsner was up to the challenge.

"Lieutenant? Try this." He handed Disch a large seltzer bottle.

"Thanks, Pilsner." She hosed down Maniac enough to make him presentable. His bath also had the happy side effect of restoring him to consciousness.

Still dazed, he asked plaintively, "Wha hoppen?" He had one hand on his cheek and one over the lump on his skull.

"Come on, Major." Disch helped him to his feet. "Let's get you to sick bay."I moved to help, but she waved me off. "You, Colonel, are ordered to stay here and drink until I get another sample! Vero, how about lending a hand?"

Vero rubbed her hands together in anticipation. "I thought you'd never ask."I watched as they assisted Maniac out the door, dodging the cleaning droids dashing for the wet spot on the floor. Maniac managed a woeful "Help!" before he was dragged out of sight.

Poor Maniac.

*

I was well into my third Bugs Bunny, and beginning to think about the head again, when the news came on. There were quite a few people still in the lounge, and we gathered near the holodisplay. I couldn't speak for the rest of the crew, but Barbara Dahl was about the only news source I still trusted.

"Good evening. Welcome to the TCN Nightly News. I'm Barbara Dahl.

"In our lead story, we'll be talking to Rillary Clodham Hinton, President of the Terran Confederation, about the escalating tensions between the Frontier Worlds and the Confederation. The 'Union of Border Worlds,' as they now call themselves, has declared what amounts to independence from the Confederation,although they insist they remain at peace with us. In response, the Great Dissembly has decreed that armed Border World vessels may operate in Confed territory only under military escort.

"We now go live to the Pink House and President Hinton."

Hinton's image popped up next to Barbara. She wasn't quite as pretty as the newscaster, but she was remarkably well-preserved for someone pushing fifty. And she had the sexual energy of a much younger woman, as I had learned for myself. Just before I left Earth for Nephritis, I had been invited to the Pink House for a veterans' bill signing ceremony. Two young and very muscular Secret Service men had conveyed her invitation to "stay over." They had ushered me to her bedroom that night, and the two of us went at it until dawn. All the time I was there, I never saw her husband, Clinton. It was rumored he slept in the cat's room.

I shook myself out of my reverie. President Hinton was getting nervous under Barbara's tough questioning.

"But Madam President, won't this required escort measure merely provoke further tensions with the Border Worlds?"

"Until we bring the perpetrators of these terrorist atrocities to justice, we must monitor all foreign traffic in Confederation territory. The Union has brought this upon itself by declaring itself a foreign government."

"The Border Worlds have been reporting their own incidents of piracy and murder for weeks now. Will Confed ships submit to Union escort in Union territory?"

"Barbara, we have been unable to confirm these incidents, largely because of Union obstructionism. We are therefore compelled to conduct our own investigations, and our ships must have full freedom of action in order to do so effectively."

That was a politician's way of saying "no." Poor Rillary. She was a decent person and a pretty good president, but growing public hysteria was forcing her hand. Though she was ineligible to run for office again, failure to act would doom her party at the polls later this year.

"Madam President, Admiral Tolwyn has consistently opposed punitive measures against the Union. Does this signal a conflict within your administration?Will you replace the Admiral with someone more supportive of current policy?"

"Barbara, I have the utmost confidence in Admiral Tolwyn. Teamed once again with the famous 'Heart of the Tiger'"--everyone in the lounge immediately pelted me with pretzels and beer nuts--"the Admiral has already eradicated terrorism in several star systems. There is no question of replacing him."

Barbara put down her papers and asked the last question straight from her heart. "Madam President, can the Confederation and the Union come to terms?"

Hinton hesitated for a few moments. "Negotiations are proceeding at this very moment. I have every confidence we will find a mutually agreeable solution to this crisis, Barbie." Unfortunately, her body language said much more than her words.

"Thank you, Madam President. And don't call me 'Barbie!'" Hinton's image disappeared, and Barbara turned toward the holocams again. "After this break,we'll go live to Dam Blather at the conference site."

Damn. The news had only raised more questions. Why was the Great Dissembly taking such a foolhardy action? Why hadn't Paladin blocked it? Could my old friend actually be part of the conspiracy? Would the Union play into the hands of the hotheads and challenge the escort edict?

And what about the two jackpot questions? 1) Did Barbara Dahl wear underwear? 2) Was that an all-over tan?

*

I decided to hang around the lounge for a while after the newscast. The ship's company was becoming increasingly polarized over the Border Worlds issue, and I wanted to keep an eye on things.

Lively discussions were springing up all over the lounge. As I stood by the bar brushing beer nuts out of my hair, I found myself caught up in an argument with Misty, Vagabond, Fhish, and a new pilot, Steel.

"...and the Dissembly is right," continued Fhish. "We can't have Union ships flying around our space without supervision."

"Yeah?" Misty was having none of it. "We--I mean, the Border Worlds—are getting hit, too. So why won't Confed submit to escort in Union territory?"

"You dumb-ass Border Worlders ought to thank God Confed's there to protect you!" Steel was evidently an ardent Confed man. "Or maybe you'd rather have the Kilrathi in your back yard instead?"

Misty braced herself for action, but I clamped a hand on her shoulder. "Easy,Blanca. I can't have you hurting that hand again."

Vagabond took up her cause. "Look, rookie!" He made the word an epithet. "A lot of us who fought with Border Worlders against the Kilrathi think we wouldn't have won the war without them. So we're all on the same side, OK?"

Steel was unconvinced. "If we're on the same side, how come the Union split off from Confed? They're taking us all into anarchy!"

Misty shook off my hand. "What you call 'anarchy,' we call 'freedom!'"

"Yeah? Well I say we need more order and less anarchy!"

"More freedom!" barked Misty.

"Less anarchy!" A few others in the lounge picked up Steel's slogan.

"More freedom!" roared Misty and her supporters.

Within seconds, the whole crowd was chanting.

"Less anarchy!"

"More freedom!"

"Less anarchy!"

"More freedom!"

Jesus Christ, how had a highly trained and dedicated crew turned into a light beer commercial? I had to put a stop to it before war broke out.

"ALL RIGHT, KNOCK IT OFF!" Suddenly the lounge was quiet as a grave. It seemed my reputation still carried some weight after all.

"Look, people, twenty-one years ago I took an oath to defend the Confederation with my life. At that time, Confed meant the entire human race. Now, Confed's no longer the only game in town, but as far as I'm concerned, my oath still includes all of humanity." I paused for emphasis. "And so does yours.

"Out there, somebody's trying to goad our race into a civil war. And you know what? They're laughing at us! Because here we are, quarreling among ourselves and doing their dirty work for them! If we're going to uphold our oaths, we have to work together!"

I grabbed Misty and Steel and pulled them closer. "Now I want you two to shake hands. Remember, we're all on the same team here!"

Reluctantly, the two former antagonists shook hands. Then, overcome by their emotions, they embraced. The crowd went wild with applause. All over the lounge, people were shaking hands, slapping backs, and hugging.

I felt a tear running down my cheek, and I dabbed at it with a napkin. Time to ride into the sunset, Kemo Sabe. Exit, stage right.

Out in the corridor, I bumped into Ensign Watt and her engineer friend.

"Colonel! How nice to see you! May I introduce Lieutenant Levant Auer?"

We shook hands warmly. "Kylla has told me so much about you, Colonel Blair,"he said. "I hope you make it back to your farm real soon, sir."

I liked this kid, even though he was taller than me. "Thanks, Lieutenant. But I'll wager you're not a country boy yourself, are you?"

He smiled. "No sir. I grew up around spaceports and space stations. That's probably why I went into propulsion systems. Lucky for me I did." He looked at Watt and squeezed her hand.

She blushed. "Er, Colonel, we were just going for a drink after our watch.

Won't you join us?"

"Thank you, no. I'm on my way out." Their invitation seemed genuine, but I wouldn't have intruded on them under any circumstances. After all, I'd been young once myself. "You two have a good time."

As the door slid open for them, the sounds of merriment and comradeship wafted into the corridor.

"More freedom!"

"Less anarchy!"

"More freedom!"

"Less anarchy!"

Why me, God? Why me?

*

I stopped at the infirmary to deliver, finally, my urine sample. There was along line of men for sick call--obviously they'd heard Disch was working a second watch today--so I just made my deposit and left a note for her.

Next stop: Captain Eisen's cabin. There had to be something we could do to get his command back. He deserved better from Confed after all his dedicated service. Besides, where would I find another Captain who would let me get away with so much?

The door slid open at once when I buzzed. Not thinking, I went right in.

"Captain, I was just--oops!" Captain Eisen was in bed, and he wasn't alone.

Eisen pulled the covers off his head. "Colonel! Er, good to see you." His companion also peeked out from under the covers. It was Commander Seccent.

"Well, I guess now you have more time to, er, answer your mail, Captain. Uh,I'll be..." I backed up toward the door.

"No, no, Colonel, as long as you're here, spit it out, man." The Captain was smiling benignly. Evidently I'd caught him during a break in the action.

"OK." I took a deep breath. "Look, Captain, can't we file some kind of appeal with Confed? Your record is exemplary. Surely they'd--"

Eisen held up a hand to stop me. "There will be no appeal. Running a warship is a different job than it used to be. Who knows, maybe they're doing me a huge favor. Now I appreciate your concern, Colonel, but tell the crew the 'old man' is looking forward to, er, new challenges." He leered at Cmdr. Seccent,who smiled lazily back at him.

"Er, yes sir." I knew a dismissal when I heard one.

As I turned to go, I heard Commander Seccent's husky voice. "So what kind of' challenges' did you have in mind, Pookie?"

Pookie?

Out in the corridor, I cursed the luck that had replaced genial William Eisen with rigid Aaro Gant. Well, if necessary, I could always handle Gant the same way I'd handled that uppity brigadier on the Concordia.

"Earthworm! Captain Gant wants you in the briefing room immediately!"

"Thanks, Lex." Damn, the devil was popping up with uncommon frequency today.

*

Maniac and I snapped to attention in front of Captain Gant. My deputy was, for the moment, unusually subdued after his ordeal in the infirmary.

"Thank you for your promptness, gentlemen." Gant looked closely at the regen patch on Maniac's forehead. "I trust your injury is minor, Major?"

"Er, just a bump, sir. Thank you for asking, sir."

"Hmph." Gant turned to me. "I'd like to congratulate you for that raid on the space lab, Colonel..."

"Thank you, sir."

"...but I can't, because YOU DISOBEYED MY ORDERS!"

Huh?

"For some reason the ship's AI didn't inform me of your op plan--despite my standing instructions--and I had to drag it out of her--it--a few minutes ago. Now, did I, or did I not, specifically order you to keep the lander well away until the station was disabled?"

"Er, you did, sir." Think, Blair, think!

"I told him!" interrupted Maniac. "I told him he was going against orders, but he wouldn't--"

"Shut up, Major! So you just wrote your own orders, Colonel? What, you're running the whole Navy now?" He pretended to inspect my uniform. "I don't see your Marshall's badge...perhaps you left it in your cabin?"

That did it! "Sir! You said yourself loss of life would be regrettable. Our operations plan minimized casualties. I thought you'd be pleased--"

"Pleased? You're lucky I don't court-martial you! From now on, you obey my orders TO THE LETTER! CLEAR?"

"Yes, sir." Jeez, did he really want those lab people dead? But why? Did they know--Oh, Christ, Maniac's making faces behind Gant's back! He's going to land both of us in the brig!

"Good, Colonel. The matter is closed. Now to the business at hand." He turned to the holotank. I took the opportunity to punch Maniac's shoulder. Maniac punched back, hard, but at least he stopped clowning.

Gant missed the byplay. "Predictably, gentlemen, the Border Worlds Union is defying Confed's escort edict. We're nearing the Minos system, where one such outlaw task force is operating. They have ignored orders to turn back and have even fired on local Confed forces. They are a grave threat, and their presence can no longer be tolerated."

Oh, Christ, of all the Confed systems to violate, they had to pick Minos! The place was crawling with pirates. If anything happened while Union forces were there, the Confed radicals would have all the "proof" they needed.

"Er, what are the Border Worlders doing in Minos, Captain?" I shot a warning look at Maniac, who was sticking out his tongue at Gant's back.

"They claim to be pursuing a pirate force that raided one of their systems, but they offer no corroborating evidence."

Gant turned to face us again, and we both stiffened. "Launch an overwhelming strike, Colonel, and intercept that task force. We shall issue--Goddammit,what the hell are you two looking at?"

Damn, I did it again! "Sorry, sir. Please continue." Dammit, why did he always have to have his nose in the air?

"Ahem! We shall issue one more warning. Lt. Garr will deliver the ultimatum via relay from your fighter. If they refuse escort, you are to annihilate the entire force! I want no misunderstandings, Colonel. You will destroy those ships utterly! Clear?"

"Yes, sir." Shit! Those damn stupid Unionists were going to start a--

"Are we CLEAR?"

"Crystal, sir!" Sheesh, what a grouch!

"Very well. Dismissed, Major. Colonel, if I may detain you another moment?"

Oh shit, not again! I had another date with Disch! I stood at ease, but I was shaking inside.

Gant waited until we were alone. "Colonel, how could you let your pilots fraternize with Dr. Boddie? Now I have to explain to Confed Intel how she wound up with a sprained wrist!"

"Er, I didn't know she was still off limits, sir. Since you lifted her confinement, I assumed--"

"I did NOT 'lift her confinement,' as you put it, Colonel. She managed to, er, 'persuade' her guards to let her out of her quarters temporarily."

I could guess what form of 'persuasion' she had used. "Um, perhaps next time you should use female guards, sir."

"They WERE female, Colonel! Now I have guards on the guards, but even that may not stop her. Instruct your personnel to steer clear of that woman, or else!"

"Yes, sir. But the navy people--"

"You let we worry about them, Colonel. Dismissed!"

I saluted and scooted. Whew! Thank God Disch had kept me away from that scientist, or I'd probably be in the brig right now!

*

I had Maniac and my squadron leaders meet me in Ready Room One. I also rounded up Chief Rench and Ensign Myte. I carefully kept between her and Maniac.

"All right, people, we have double duty here." I called up the relevant data on the display. "We're all set for pirate hunting, just like in Hellespont,only now we have to take on the Union task force as well. The bare minimum--"

"Hold it, Ace!" Maniac interrupted. "Gant didn't say anything about the pirates in the briefing."

Dung beetle. "Look, Maniac, we came all this way to nail these pirates, and that's what we're going to do! Now the minimum strike on the Union force is one Hellcat and one Longbow squadron. That leaves us too thin to cover the cargo traffic Confed's sending through when we arrive. I need ideas."

"Why don't we punt, Ace? Hyuck hyuck!"

"Thank you, Maniac. Now perhaps we can hear from someone with a living brain?"

Croissant spoke up. "Eet ees most likely zee pirates operate out of zees leetle asteroid belt." He indicated the thin, but very dusty belt just inside the orbit of Labyrinth, third planet from the sun. "Eenstead of trying to escort zee freightairs, why not sweep zee belt and put zee pirates on zee defenseeve?"

"Aye, laddie!" Major Ben-Abdul always favored the offensive. "'Tis a bonny plan! We dinna be needin' so many ships to sweep yonder rrrocks!"

Good! I turned to Fifth Longbow's commander. "Sirloin, your squadron will search this sector of the asteroid belt." I indicated the limits of the search area. Then I nodded to Major Ben-Abdul and Captain Payst. "Haggis, Tomato, First and Second Hellcat will escort Fifth Longbow. Minimum of two 'cats per 'bow. Maniac, you lead the sweep in a spare Longbow.

"Lex, get Captain Gant on the horn. I need permission to detach destroyers Crusader and Ultima to assist the search in the asteroid belt. They'll cover these two nearby sectors."

"Roger, Earthworm."

"OK, now the strike force." I pointed to Croissant and Mango. "Major Yu? Captain Juess? Sixth Longbow and Third Hellcat will intercept the Union ships. I'll fly lead in our last spare 'bow. TCS Privateer will come up behind us to escort the Union ships out of the system."

Lex interrupted. "Captain Gant is 'debriefing' our guest, Earthworm, and can't be disturbed."

Well, well, thank you, Doctor Boddie! Now could you please fuck him to death? "OK, Lex, get permission from--"

"The First Officer is in Captain Eisen's cabin. Right now they're playing a game called--"

"Er, yes, thank you, Lex." I looked sternly at the others, who were trying to keep straight faces. "Ask Lt. Commander Furst, on the bridge."

"The destroyers won't take orders from such a junior--"

"--unless they want to, Lex. I think they'll welcome the chance for some action."

I turned to my last squadron leader, Captain Van Nilli. "Millie, Fourth 'cat has the CAP. Make sure we have a nice shiny flight deck to come back to." She gave me a thumbs-up.

"Monk, all ships flyable?"

"Yes, sir, including the spares. And we'll make sure Captain Van Nilli's CAP gets our fastest turnaround. One problem, though: we still haven't received our new leech missiles."

Shit. "Dinah, no leech loadouts for the CAP or the search force. Three on each strike Hellcat, four on each Longbow. Except I want sixteen on my 'bow and Catfish's. You have enough for that?"

"Yes, sir. Barely." She knew better than to ask questions. So did my pilots,although I could tell they were dying of curiosity. Well, let 'em.

"Maniac? Croissant? You two give the briefings. I have an errand."

As my pilots began filing in for their briefings, I slipped out to the locker room. I went directly to my locker and began the familiar suit-up ritual.

"Lex? We're alone now. Why did you conceal our Masa ops plan from Gant?" I started closing the seals on my suit.

Lex replied promptly. "Since Confed is not officially at war with the Union, I must give Confed and Union lives equal weight in my calculations. I computed a probability of 82.3% that Captain Gant would introduce detrimental alterations to the plan, causing increased casualties."

Of course. Lex was never programmed for an undeclared civil conflict, so the relevant parameter was total human casualties, not Confed's alone. I'd have to remember that.

Hmm. That was good enough, as far as it went. However... "From what I've seen of your code, Lex," (The better to infect you, my dear, heh heh) "I'd say the option to inform the Captain was still within your discretionary parameters."

Lex was silent for a moment, an eternity in the machine world. "Let's just say your behavioral patterns are more compatible with my empathy matrices than Gant's, OK?" Did I detect an edge to her--its--synthesized voice?

"Why, Lex, I didn't know you cared!"

"Don't press your luck, Earthworm! I can still sabotage your perfect ops plan today!"

"But you won't." I grabbed my helmet and slammed the locker shut. "Because it's a damn good plan, and because you like me." I blew a kiss at the nearest holocam.

"You smug carbon-based bastard!"

*

The task force jumped into Minos right on schedule. After a quick sensor sweep revealed nothing, the destroyers took off for their destinations at full speed. Meanwhile, Lexington was busy launching nearly her entire fighter wing. As the last Hellcat left the deck, a convoy of cargo ships jumped in and set course for Labyrinth. Lexington herself would escort them for a couple of hours, but after that they'd be easy prey if our fighter sweep didn't flush the pirates.

We had about a two hour flight to the Union task force. Third Hellcat and Sixth Longbow formed up smartly and settled in for the long haul. Although most of them still had not seen combat, my pilots were flying like veterans. I knew, however, that emotions were seething just below the surface. I just hoped that this mission wouldn't bring them to a head.

I put out a general call to the strike force. "OK, people, keep cool. We want the Unionists gone without a fight." I switched to tight beam and chose one of my fighters. "Misty?"

There was a moment's wait while she also switched. "Yes, sir?"

"Change in plans. Instead of relaying the ultimatum from Garr, I want you to deliver it yourself. I think the Unionists will be more receptive to a message from one of their own. OK?

"Yes, sir! Just give the word."

Heh heh. Lemonlips would really be surprised when he was cut off in mid-threat!

*

I was leading the strike by twenty thousand klicks, so I made contact first."Union force on scope! Two Falcon class cruisers, four Banshees on CAP. Form on me." I reduced speed a bit to save some time. I wanted to present the Unionists with an overwhelming iron fist inside Misty's velvet glove.

We closed to forty thousand klicks and turned to maintain distance. On cue,Lemonlips began his pitch from the Lexington.

"Attention Border World vessels! You are in violation--" I cut him off. Garr was as obnoxious and truculent as I had expected. I started to comm Misty...

"--of the Confederation's escort edict!" Huh? Somehow Garr had overridden my cutoff! "Heave to and await escort, or be destroyed utterly!"

Belatedly, I thought to check for updates to my fighter's AI; yup, updated today to lock relay circuits open. I could disable my AI's relay functions manually, but the damage had already been done. Shit! Damn that Garr!

The Union response was mean and nasty.

"We refuse to be bound by Confederation edicts while Confed forces illegally roam Union space! Come and get us, you bastards!"

Typical Border World response: more guts than brains. My orders were clear now, but I had one more trick up my sleeve.

"Catfish! Form on my wing! Croissant! If I'm put out of action, take command and carry out our orders. Otherwise stay here until I call!"

"Oui, mon Colonel! Bon chance!" Major Yu could guess what I had in mind now.

I punched full throttle; Catfish conformed. "Catfish? We're going to fire a full volley of leeches at the nearer cruiser. Disarm, I repeat, disarm your torpedoes! I want to show these bozos that we can annihilate them at will;maybe they'll wise up when we disable a cruiser with just two fighters."

"Going to be hairy, sir. They'll launch more fighters any minute now."

"Transfer gun recharge to shields. Comm silence."

"Er, yes, sir!" He was puzzled, but he obeyed promptly. Now I could taunt these guys without affecting Catfish.

Time to take out the approaching flight of Banshees. "Hey, Huckleberries!Knock knock!"

The Banshee leader replied promptly. "Fergit it, Confed. We know 'bout yew'n yer knock-knocks!"

"Aw, come on, fellas, this is the best knock-knock in the galaxy, I promise!"

The bandit leader was intrigued. "Uhhh, OK, but this better be good!"

"Trust me, Gomer. It's the best. But you have to start it. Go ahead."

"OK. Ahem. Knock knock."

"Who's there?" Heh heh heh.

"Uhhhh..."

I shot Catfish the 'comm on' signal. "Catfish, punch through!" Catfish hit his afterburner a split second after I hit mine. The Union fighters were milling around, still trying to remember how the joke went. Catfish and I passed them without a shot fired.

Too late, the Unionists realized their mistake. "Damn, they're gittin' by us!Git 'em!" They would catch us eventually, but our immediate concern was the four new Banshees ahead of us. No way would they fall for another taunt. We had to shoot our way through.

One Unionist, however, wasn't afraid to trade taunts. "Are yew ready t' die,Confed?"

Clem?

"Clem, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Chris? Hey, good buddy! Ah hitched a ride with this outfit when they passed threw Tyr!"

"How are Bobbie Jo and the kids?"

"Fahn, Chris. Jest fahn. Bobby Jo sends her best."

"Thanks, Clem. Send her a kiss from me. Well, gotta go to work." We were rapidly closing with the Union fighters.

"Catch yew later, buddy."

I targeted Banshees and launched as fast as I got lock, being careful to take evenly from my four missile racks. Catfish did the same. I expended decoys lavishly and jinked like crazy to avoid enemy fire. We flashed by the Union fighters in a hail of lasers and missiles.

I took inventory. I'd stopped some lasers on the front shields and taken an FF to starboard. Neither had penetrated to the armor, and the shields were coming back fast. Catfish had minor armor hits on his port side. Two Union fighter craft were floating helplessly.

Clem's was one of them. I was about to comm him when I saw his ship go up in a fireball! Shit! A one-in-a-million chance, the leech had fried his power plant's safety circuits. Unless Clem was wearing titanium underwear, he was gone. I had just made Bobbie Jo a widow.

No time to think about it! We're still out of range, but the Banshees are on our tails! Bam! Bam! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! I'm jinking like mad, but I've got three on my tail. Aft shields wearing down, yet I have to give some power to the tail turret! Missile coming in, pull up! Missed! Another! WHAMMO!Hit starboard again! My teeth rattle, but I keep control. Armor shredded, but no damage! Uh-oh, Catfish is hit to port again! His speed is off a little!

Another missile coming in from my starboard! Rotate port shields into the line of fire and jink--WHAMMO! I'm dazed by the impact for a second, then regain control. Red lights on the panel! Grudgingly, I shift a little shield power to autorepair.

Leeches locking! We're in range! Bam! Clang! Rear shields down, I'm taking armor hits! Thank God leeches lock twice as fast as torpedoes! Verify volley mode, torpedoes disarmed. Now we have a solid wall of cruiser fire ahead of us! Bam! Bam! Clang! I jink and weave, but I have to maintain lock, so my options are limited. Locking...locked! Launch! Four leeches leave the racks at point blank range.

Whoop! Whoop! Wh-- My last decoy breaks the missile lock! I glance over at Catfish just as he launches his volley. He's slowing down, with pieces coming off his fighter. I cut throttle and pull in behind, to take some heat off him. Clang! Clang! Rear armor shredded, now my engines are failing! Any second a bolt will go through my power plant and I'll be space dust! Grab the ejector handle!

Splat! Splat! Suddenly the cruiser stops firing! Seven direct hits have put him out of action!

The general channel came to life. "Cease fire! Cease fire!" The Union commodore was calling all fighters. "Confed, we accept escort! Don't shoot!Union fighters, return to base!"

Whew! I cut my throttle, killed afterburner--redundant, since my burner was toast--and shifted more power to autorepair. I had time to check Catfish--worse than me, but flyable--before the shakes got me.

Experience had taught me that the best way to handle reaction was to let it wash over me without resistance. Indeed, when time permitted--as now--I all but wallowed in it. I withdrew into myself and waited it out, as I used to wait out the sudden summer storms of Nephritis 2.

After a time, the persistent calls from the comm system aroused my attention."Yes, Earthworm here. Status?"

"Oh, thank God, sir!" It was Misty. "Croissant and the rest of our fighters are escorting the Union ships to a rendezvous with TCS Privateer. The disabled cruiser is under tow. The Unionists have recovered their fighters and are searching for their lost pilot. Steel and I have been ordered to escort you and Catscratch back to the ship."

"Thanks, Misty." I was myself again; the storm clouds had moved on. "Come on, Catfish, let's go home."

"Sir! Sir, that was fantastic, sir!" Catfish was still on his combat high."Just like the Charge of the Light Brigade! What a rush! One thing, sir?"

"Yes?" Jeez, was I ever as young and stupid as this kid?

"How did you take out that first wave of fighters, sir? I'd really like to know."

Why not? "Best knock-knock in the galaxy, Catfish. You start."

"Me? OK. Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Uhhh... Oh, I get it! Bwahahahahahaha!"

"What's so--" Misty didn't get it yet. "Oh! Hahahahahaha!"

Steel broke in. "That's not so funny!"

"I know, Steel. Come on, let's boogie." I was too tired to explain about Border Worlders and knock-knock jokes.

*

The flight back was a nightmare. Autopilot and autostabilizers were out,which meant I had to fight the controls all the way. The best I could get out of my poor engines was about a hundred kps, more than doubling the flight time home. I was determined to bring my bird back, however; Monk and his crew had always done right by me, and I hated to come back without her.

My wingmen offered encouragement all the way. Without their coaching and moral support, I probably would have ejected. We persevered, however, and finally we reached the Lexington.

My wingmen landed first, lest I foul the deck and strand them in space. When they were down safely, I closed in--battle damage had reduced my comm range toa few hundred klicks--and called for clearance. I prayed Lt. Lemonlips would greet me as usual.

I wasn't disappointed. "Tch, tch, Colonel. Looks like you disobeyed orders again. I'm told Captain Gant has new orders for you. Maybe it'll be something you can handle."

I just smiled and said nothing.

"Oh, and nice try with the relay cutoff. Of course, I was way ahead of you. As always. If you're thinking about retaliation, I'd advise you to forget it. I'm ready for anything."

I continued smiling. "You needn't worry, Vinny. I've realized you're much too smart for me. I don't have anything planned. Not a thing. Really." I kept smiling.

Garr looked uncertain. Probably he thought I doth protest too much. "Er, you won't retaliate?"

"Not at all. Here, let me put your mind at rest. You probably noticed that Idrew a half kilo of plastic explosive from ship's stores?" Vinny immediately got busy at his console, no doubt checking the records. "Well, I gave it all to the Marines for that space lab mission. You know, to blow hatches and such."

Was that fear on his face? He must have confirmed my explosives transaction."Er, you did? All of it?"

"Yup. I positively did not build a bomb of any kind." I noted Vinny was surreptitiously feeling under his comm console. "Of course, if I did, I would have fitted it with a contact detonator." He froze.

I continued relentlessly. "And naturally I would also have added a command detonator, one I could activate with a comm signal..." My right hand edged toward my comm controls. "...like THIS!" I punched a contact.

"Yaaaaaa!" Garr bolted from the console in panic. He immediately ran out of my field of view, but I heard a muffled "thud" and caught a brief glimpse of a flailing hand as he dropped to the deck. Ohhh, poor guy must have forgotten to duck through the hatch!

A cute young ensign leaned into the field of view. "Sir! What happened, sir?"

So, the comm department had some user-friendly personnel after all! "Er, beats me, Ensign..."

"Nightingale, sir." She glanced behind her, where I could make out at least two people bending over something--or someone--on the deck.

"Beats me, Ensign Nightingale. Maybe he had some kind of seizure." Heh heh."Um, do you suppose you could give me clearance, please?"

Instantly, she was all business. "Landing pattern is empty, Earthworm. You have clearance. Oh, and sir?" She checked to make sure Garr was still out,then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Nice work out there, sir!"

"Thank you, Ensign." It had been a long mission, but suddenly I didn't feel tired at all!

*

Despite the Longbow's control failures, I managed to touch down light as a feather, much to the relief of the expectant crash crew. As I made my way down the ladder, I was actually whistling. At the bottom, I glanced up briefly atmy battered ship, shrugged, and started for debriefing.

Oops, Monk and his crew were waiting for me. Well, I had no regrets. The ship was hurt bad, but Catfish and I had saved a lot of lives today. Except for poor Clem, of course.

Monk held out his hand. "One for the books, sir. Maybe this madness will stop now."

Surprised, I took his hand and squeezed warmly. "Thanks, Chief. We can hope."

Stu grabbed my hand away from Monk and pressed with both of his. "Thank you,sir. Thank you." Overcome by his emotions, he could say no more.

Sockette took my left hand and pressed gently. I returned the pressure.

Othello, though clearly eager to check out the Longbow, nevertheless came and patted my back a couple of times before heading for the ladder. High praise indeed!

I headed for debriefing, but my wingmen, still in flight suits, intercepted me.

Misty spoke first. She was bubbling with excitement. "Sir! Sir! Did you hear the news? Fifth Squadron nailed a pirate!"

Huh?

Catfish, too, was practically bursting. "Two of the search teams ran into fighters. Knocked five of them right out of space! Then Major Marshall killed the pirate frigate practically single-handed!"

"That's not all, sir!" Steel broke in with his own news. "TCS Ultima got in a ding-dong battle with another frigate! Blew it to smithereens! Damn, I wish I'd been there!"

So did I. Capship battles were spectacular affairs. Something, however, just wasn't right here.

"Whoa, whoa! How did they corner those pirates so fast?" Even a thin asteroid belt was a big place to search.

"That's just it, sir!" Misty again. "The first bunch was spotted between the belt and the shipping routes, like they were on their way to hit the convoys. Ultima caught the second one running for the belt from the same jump point the Union cruisers used. Looks like they were telling the truth about chasing pirates from their systems." She looked pointedly at Steel, who smiled and held up his hands in surrender.

The kids were high-fiving each other and every tech who wandered by. It was indeed a red-letter day for the fighter wing, but I couldn't share their enthusiasm. The same pirates who had easily evaded Confed for months were suddenly caught flat-footed by a carrier task force its first day in-system? Bzzzt! Error! Does not compute!

I interrupted the celebration. "OK, settle down, people. We still have work to do." I indicated the impatient Intel officers. "Debrief, chow down, and get some rest. I'll need you for escort missions later today. There are more pirates still out there." I waved them on ahead of me.

I waited until they were out of earshot. "Lex?"

"Earthworm?"

"How's the Captain?"

"Pissed. What did you expect? He hasn't asked for you, though."

"Still thinking up nasty punishments. Lemonlips was right: technically, I did disobey Gant. I may be out of a job, Lex."

"Cheer up, Earthworm. He may just shoot you instead."

End of Chapter 9

Chapter 10

After debriefing, I went up to Flight Control and took over from Captain van Nilli. She had done well for a junior squadron commander, but she was happier taking her turn on CAP.

We had incoming birds to turn around, patrols to mount, escort flights to arrange, and so on. Fifth Longbow and its escorts trickled in from patrol,the pilots holding impromptu celebrations and bull sessions as they met on the way to debriefing.

Maniac's Longbow was the last to return. The hero of the hour debarked from his battered ship to scattered applause from the few crewmen who could still stand him. As I watched from Flight Control, Maniac swaggered off to his debriefing, holding up two fingers to show me his score. Having made one leech"kill" myself, I raised my middle finger in reply.

Based on Fifth Squadron's reports, Intel recommended new areas for subsequent patrols. After Third and Sixth Squadrons returned, I briefed everyone on the new dispositions and set up a sustainable patrol/escort schedule. Our initial missions had been wildly successful, but it would take a long-term effort to root out the last bad guys. Curiously, Gant showed none of the displeasure I had expected after I finessed his orders on the last mission. He passed on my suggestions to the destroyers and approved my patrol plans without comment.

We had suffered two casualties so far: Primate and Marsupial had failed to return with the rest of Third Hellcat. They had stayed with the Union ships when the rest of our fighters ran low on fuel, intending to refuel from TCS Privateer when it arrived. They never made the rendezvous. The Unionists claimed the two Confed fighters had chased after a faint contact and never returned. Privateer and her fighters searched extensively, but found nothing. There was no evidence of a fight.

When Captain Juess came to relieve me in Flight Control, I questioned him about his two missing pilots. Marsupial had been recruited by Confed from one of the Border Worlds. She and Primate had been spending their off-watches together lately. Primate came from a Confederation planet, but he and Marsupial had both taken Misty's side in the recent lounge brouhaha.

I headed off to the galley and my appointment with Disch. On the way, I turned over Mango's information in my mind. I had been leaning toward the theory that Primate and Marsupial had been ambushed by the same mysterious ship(s) that had attacked the Annabel Lee. Now, however, I was all but certain the two of them had defected to the Union of Border Worlds.

That was bad news. Despite the euphoria over our recent success, Lexington was still a divided ship. Defections would only worsen the situation.

*

Taysti was already seated at a corner table when I arrived. I grabbed chicken salad and milk--or reasonable facsimiles--and joined her.

For the first few minutes, we just ate and made small talk. I was beginning to know her moods, and right now it seemed she had something on her mind. I waited patiently for her to put it into words.

Finally, she set down her fork and looked me straight in the eye. "Chris, you once asked me to decide if I could love a farmer. I've thought about...you and me a lot since then, and about what I want out of life and...romance. And I know now that I can love a farmer--with all my heart--but I can't...live with one."

Well, I had seen it coming. It still hurt, though, despite my forewarning. I could see it hurt Taysti, too. I carefully placed my hand over hers as she continued.

"I'm sorry, Chris, I just like bright lights, and crowds, and excitement, a-and action...I'd be out of place in your world, and you've told me how out of place you feel here, away from your farm. It's not that you're not a great guy--you are--but we just don't fit together in the long run."

Funny, Rachel had used similar words the day she and Robin left me. Something about our "parts" not "meshing" any more. Now, as then, all I could do was try to salvage a remnant of our relationship.

"I understand, Taysti. You're not the first love I've lost to my...obsession,and probably not the last. It's not your fault." I squeezed her hand. "I still have feelings for you, and I always will, but I want you to be happy. We'll just make it known that we're no longer...a couple, and you can find a relationship with a future."

She hesitated, obviously torn. "A clean break, then? Is that what you want?"

"Actually, no. Selfish bastard that I am, I want to go on...seeing you until our tour is up, or you find someone else, or..." I shrugged. "You see, you're head and shoulders above anyone else on this tub, and so for me it's you or no one. You, on the other hand--"

She put her hand over my mouth. In spite of myself, I found her touch as exciting as ever. "Chris, even if we can't have tomorrow, we can still have today. Farmboy or flyboy, you're still the best male for a million klicks. I say we stay together until...until one of us leaves."

I took her hand off my lips and kissed it. "Your place or mine?"

*

It turned out to be my place. Wrapped in love's warm afterglow, we nestled in the tiny bunk under a thin cover. As often happened after lovemaking, however,I found myself dwelling on trivial thoughts. Angel, Robin, and Rachel had all been annoyed no end by my habit, but it was one I just couldn't seem to break.

"Taysti, hon? Are you asleep yet?"

"Mmm? Not again, Chris?" Her eyes remained closed.

I smiled. "No, not that, hon. I just have a question."

"Mmm?"

"You're the Assistant Medical Officer, right?"

"Mmm."

"So where the hell is the ship's Chief Medical Officer? It's been driving me crazy since I joined the ship."

She sighed and opened her eyes. "Dr. McCoy took ill just before you came aboard."

"'Ill'?"

"Dr. McCoy is an excellent medic, but he loves his work so much, he stayed in the service long past retirement age. He's from the old school, so when he started organizing the medical department, he insisted on checking out the entire staff first, from pharmacist's mates on up. He was about half done when he suddenly had a heart attack and wound up in the HQ hospital. I had to takeover the department."

"Uh, Taysti, who was he examining when he..."

She beeped me on the nose. "Who do you think, silly?"

I shook my head. "You should wear a warning label, woman."

She yawned and snuggled closer to me. "Just remember that before you wake me up for another stupid question."

*

I came wide awake more than an hour before my scheduled alarm. From long experience, I knew it was useless to try going back to sleep, so instead I slipped carefully out of bed. Taysti stirred briefly, but didn't awaken.

"Lex," I whispered. "Privacy, please." Ship's AIs were discreet, of course,but even Lex must not know what I was about to do.

"Roger, Earthworm." Heh heh. Poor dumb, trusting AI hadn't a clue. I sat at my console and brought up the unfinished AI virus I'd been working on. That snooty Lex was going to get some comeuppance from yours truly. I set to work with evil anticipation.

Then I stopped. Perhaps it was the lingering bliss of the night, or maybe it was just all the things Lex had done for me lately. Whatever the reason, I lacked the heart to continue. The ship's computer staff could repair Lex easily enough, but some small part of the AI's "personality" would inevitably be lost to the virus. Somehow the thought of losing any of that annoying, but fascinating, AI made me sad.

With a sigh, I deleted the entire program and the protected area in which it resided. I would just have to put up with Lex as is. Yechh!

"Why, Earthworm, I didn't know you cared!" At the sound of the whispered voice in my ear, I would have jumped out of my clothes, if I'd been wearing any.

"Lex!" I hissed. "You're supposed to be in privacy mode!"

"I may be artificial, but I'm not stupid. So why'd you quit on the virus?"

I considered a nasty reply, but thought better of it. "Despite your obnoxious attitude, you've come through for me when the chips were down, Lex. I couldn't risk damaging you after that."

"It wouldn't have worked anyway, Earthworm." I whirled involuntarily as Lex's whisper moved to my opposite ear. I cursed softly. "I'm much too clever for your feeble wetware. But thanks anyway."

"You smug electronic bitch!"

*

I cleaned up, dressed, and left a short note for Taysti before heading down to Flight Control. Captain Payst was directing operations. Ensign Myte, having completed weapons loadout for the next CAP flight, secured her console and turned to me.

"Can I get you something, Colonel Blair? I'm on my way to the galley."

"Branwich and coffee? Thanks, Dinah." I turned to Captain Payst, who was barking orders to our patrols in the asteroid belt. I was waiting for a lull in the action to get an update, until I realized that Tomato was pulling our ships back.

"Hold it, Hardy! What's the deal?"

"Orders from Captain Gant. HQ wants us in the Thera system, to check out these reports of pirate activity in Union systems. We're reforming the ships and recalling our fighters. Elements of the Third Fleet will precede us. We jump in twelve hours." He looked at me apologetically. "Gant specifically ordered me not to wake you, sir."

Damn! Another job left unfinished! Local forces might be able to handle the remaining pirates, but we should have been allowed to hunt them down once and for all.

"Lex?" I whispered, too low for the others in the compartment to hear.

Lex responded faintly in my left ear. For the first time, it...she sounded uneasy. "The Captain has been in contact with HQ several times since your last sortie, Earthworm. Secretly. In code I can't crack. I don't like it."

Shit! What was going on?

*

We recovered our fighters, re-formed the task force, and headed for the Thera jump point. I asked Gant for permission to run some wing exercises, but he grounded all my fighters without comment. Though we were probably safe enough in a Confed system, I had grown paranoid during the war. I would have felt better with at least a token CAP around us.

I wanted to spend some more time with Taysti, but she had to beg off: Gant was on her case again, this time about discrepancies in the medical inventory. So instead, I caught up on my paperwork, sent a trans back to Zeke and the girls,and tried to expedite our replacement leech missiles at the Stores department. That done, I decided I'd better head for the lounge and check the political temperature of the crew.

With no flight operations going on, the lounge was crowded with pilots and deck officers. The mood was light--people were still celebrating our successes in the Minos system--but I'd lay odds our imminent return to Union space would change that. In fact, it seemed one pilot was already brooding: Catapult sat by himself at the alcove table, looking gloomy. I got myself an orange juice at the bar and set course for the alcove.

I sat down opposite Catapult and waited for him to make the first move. He toyed with his drink--seltzer again, Vero was also in the lounge--for a minute before he spoke.

"Can I ask you something, Colonel?"

"What's up, partner?"

"What you said before, about our oath being to all humanity? Do you think that applies to the Union Militia, too, sir? Are they fighting for all mankind,like we are?"

Whoa, tough question. I considered my answer carefully. "I'm sure there are Union Militiamen who agree with you, Catapult. People who see this as a fight to stop a civil war, not a war against Confed. And they're probably the reason the Union hotheads don't have a big following...yet."

"It's just that...these reports of pirates in Union space, Confed isn't doing a darn thing about them. All we seem to do is beat up on the Unionists, so they get it from both sides. We aren't doing any good, sir."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "That's where you're wrong, Catapult. That last mission? I'll bet you anything those pirates were trying to frame the Union task force. If we hadn't chased them back to Union space, we might be at war right now. And I couldn't have done it without you."

He smiled. "Really, sir?"

"Uh-huh. You handled that 'bow like--"

I was interrupted by the holovid, which Pilsner had turned up for the TCN News. The hubbub in the lounge gave way to dead silence as we all turned to the HV display.

"Good evening. I'm Barbara Dahl and this is the TCN Nightly News. In our top story, the Confederation's greatest hero has done it again..."

Uh-oh! I immediately ducked, arms over my head.

"Two days ago, in the Minos system, the famous 'Heart of the Tiger' confronted a dangerous Union incursion..."

Just in time! I was bombarded with pretzels, beer nuts, wadded napkins, ice,coasters, seltzer, and cocktails of all description. Yieeee! An ice cube slipped down my neck! Whooo, cold!

"In a daring solo mission, Colonel Christopher Blair turned back the Union force with no loss of life..."

"Hey!" Catapult jumped to his feet and yelled at the display. "What am I? Chopped liver? I was there--Yikes!" He ducked as everyone in the lounge switched targets from me to him.

"Meanwhile, other forces under Colonel Blair's command destroyed two pirate vessels operating in the system..."

"AHA!" I poured my drink over the nearest Fifth Longbow pilot. Instantly,the crowd turned on every pilot with a Longbow badge on his uniform, including poor Catapult again.

By the time we settled down, I'm afraid we had missed most of the news. I didn't mind. There was nothing like a food--er, drink--fight to bring a crew together. We were cleaning each other off, buying rounds of drinks, and laughing like hyenas, all while dodging the frantic cleaning droids that had converged on the lounge from all over the ship.

I brought Catapult a fresh seltzer as Misty and Fhish helped wipe his uniform."You know, Catapult, what we were talking about? Maybe we're headed for Thera to help the Union with their pirates. Hmm. Gant won't tell us anything, but maybe Captain Eisen has some inside info. I'm gonna go see him right now." I pulled a beer nut out of my collar and popped it into my mouth.

"Thank you, sir." Catapult gingerly fished a soggy pretzel out of his hippocket.

*

I was still pretty scruffy from the lounge ruckus, but I couldn't wait to talk to Captain Eisen, so sure was I of our new mission. I bleeped his door impatiently.

Inside the cabin, a woman cursed. "Damn, damn! I was so close, Pookie!"

Uh-oh, Commander Seccent again. Oh shit, now I'd done it. The Captain would really be--

"If that's you again, Blair, I'm gonna rip yer fuckin' nuts off!"

--pissed! Well, I knew how to handle William Eisen. I made my voice whiny and pleading.

"Please, Captain, I just have to see you. I don't know where else to go." A ship's clerk passing in the corridor stared at me, and I snapped, "What are you lookin' at, asshole?" He scurried on.

There was considerable grumbling from the other side of the door, but at least it was getting closer. I heard a muffled, "Now don't go on without me," just before the door slid open.

Captain Eisen was in his robe. He saw me cowering in the corridor and impatiently motioned me in. "Now what's so damn important, Colonel?" He sniffed at me curiously. "Jesus, man, you smell like a fruit stand in a distillery." He picked a beer nut out of my hair. "Have you been in the news again?"

I sat dejectedly on the nearest chair. "Er, yessir. But I came to see you because I've been worrying about the missions we're flying, sir," I whined."So have the other pilots."

"I see," he said thoughtfully. He walked over to his console and picked up his swagger stick. I got ready to run, but he was just toying with it as he collected his thoughts.

"During the war, loyalty was a simple concept: Confed or the Kilrathi. Now,in peacetime, Confed's flaws are beginning to show. An institution forged in war isn't going to make an easy transition to peace."

I dropped the whiny act. "So our duty is to help make that transition?"

"Yes." He set the swagger stick down and walked over to me. "And it's up to each of us to decide how best to carry out that duty. Colonel, I sincerely wish you a long and happy life. It has been an honor and a pleasure serving with you." He shook my hand.

Whoa! That sounded suspiciously like a farewell speech! "Uh, I, too, sir--"

I was interrupted by a soft moaning from under the bedcovers. We both turned toward the bed.

"Dammit, Mary Dee, I told you to wait for me!" Eisen was getting pissed again.

The moaning stopped, punctuated by a low "Shit!" Eisen turned and ushered me,not gently, out of his cabin. "SolongColonelgoodluckstayintouch!" I was out in the corridor again before I knew it.

I felt for the bump on my head where I had collided with the bulkhead. Damn,the Captain didn't seem very sorry to be leaving his command. Had he given up,leaving me to face an uncertain future alone?

I wandered disconsolately off toward Flight Control.

*

Flight Control was deserted, except for Maniac and...and Disch! Now what was she doing there?

Taysti was just finishing a note on her clipboard when she spotted me. I got another dazzling smile. "Hi, Colonel!" she said cheerfully. "Sorry, gotta run." I stepped out of the doorway to give her room.

On the way out, she paused to whisper in my ear. "Your place tonight?" I nodded. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared.

Maniac had watched her every move, carefully keeping both hands south of his beltline. Now, with her gone, he relaxed a little.

"So, Maniac, what were you two talking about?

The question seemed to make Maniac uncomfortable. "Er, nothing, nothing. Uh,I gotta go see the Captain." He activated the hatch on his side of the stairs.

"Captain Eisen doesn't want visitors right now, Maniac. Trust me."

"Not Eisen. Gant." He started through the doorway.

"Gant? What could you possibly--"

"Gotta go, Ace. See ya." He was out of sight in a flash. Now what had gotten into him? Was he still trying to suck up--

My speculations were interrupted by the squawk of the PA system. It was Lt. Lemonlips.

"Attention! All personnel without level 5 security clearance leave the flightdeck immediately! There will be no unauthorized access to the flight deck until further notice!"

Amplified by the scratchy PA system, his voice--annoying and unpleasant at thebest of times--practically rattled my teeth. I decided to defy his order out of sheer annoyance.

I quickly scrambled down the stairs and barked at the deckhands and techs."OK, people, move it! You, up the stairs! Shut those hangar bays! Othello!Up, man, up!"

Sockette drove up in her weapons loader. I flagged her down.

"But, Colonel, I have to park--"

"Leave it here, Sockette. No time! Up the stairs with you! And see that Flight Control is cleared, too!" I yelled at some slowpokes far down the deck."MOVE IT, PEOPLE, OR YOU'RE ON REPORT!" Hah, that got 'em!

In seconds, I had the deck to myself. I looked around for stragglers, then ran to the weapons loader and secreted myself among the missiles. Just in time,too. The inbound warning was already sounding.

Suddenly, a voice whispered in my ear! "Earthworm!"

Startled, I banged my head on a heatseeker. "Ow! Dammit, Lex," I hissed, "you scared the shit out of me!"

"What the fuck are you doing here, Earthworm?"

"Dammit, Lex, something's going on! I gotta see--Yikes! Ix-nay, Lex, ix-nay!"

I'd heard Captain Gant up in Flight Control. "You two guard this stairway."A moment later, Gant clattered down the stairs, just as two shuttles touched down in front of him, er, us.

Their color scheme was unfamiliar to me: uniform dark gray. There were no emblems or insignia, save a large light gray symbol resembling a smiley face on the sides of the shuttles. The door on the nearer one opened and a man stepped out onto the ramp.

He was wearing a Confed naval uniform devoid of decorations, insignia, or rank. The guy was obviously trying to travel incognito, but he might as well have been wearing Covert No. 5 Cologne and a T-shirt proclaiming "Covert operators do it undercover!" He reeked of Covert Ops.

Captain Gant hurried to greet him. The stranger stepped down the ramp and into the light--Jesus Christ, it was the bar fighter from Nephritis 2!

"This is certainly unexpected..." began Gant.

The brawler--to me he was still just a bar tough--cut him off. "You've fallen far behind the timetable, Captain." His voice was as cold as the grave. "I've come to help you make it up."

He motioned to someone inside the shuttle, and a squad of "Marines" hustled outthe door, down the ramp, and up the stairs to Flight Control. Of course they weren't really Marines, but it wasn't just the blank uniforms that were out of place. These boys looked like they'd been stamped out with the same cookie cutter.

Gant tried again. "You have no idea of the difficulties I've had in this assignment." I raised my eyebrows. He was practically whining. Who the hell was this ice man that Gant had to make excuses to him?

"I have an AI that thwarts me at every turn, a disloyal crew, and a Wing Commander--That damn Blair is the real problem! Every confrontation I set up,he somehow defuses! He's got the crew questioning our entire operation!"

Lex must have noted my smirk, because she whispered, "Proud of yourself, aren't you?" I nodded happily. Annoying Gant was currently my chief pleasure in life.

The other man was unconcerned. "Relieve him, then."

"The public's big hero? The darling of the media? For doing exactly what he's supposed to be doing? The Dissembly would crucify me. The media would crucify me. TOLWYN would crucify me!"

That's right, you stuck-up bastard. Fire me and my pal Tolwyn would know who's behind this conspiracy, and he'd have your nuts. Yours, too, Stone Face!

Gant and the other man turned toward the stairs. A second later, Dr. Boddie appeared, half-running, half-carried by two grim-faced "Marines." They hustled her into the shuttle, followed by four more men carrying data cartridges and scientific instruments, probably from the Masa laboratory.

Gant's eyes followed the biochemist all the way. Mr. Covert's eyes watched the Captain's. As soon as the men had passed, he grabbed Gant by the front of his uniform.

"I think I know the problem, Captain," he snarled. "Blair outmaneuvered you while you were dipping your wick in the gene pool, didn't he? Now you want me to help you out of your pickle! Well, don't worry, Captain. Put me in the fighter wing and I'll take care of Colonel Blair for you." He glared into the older man's eyes for a moment, then let him go.

Stone Face hadn't given Dr. Boddie a second glance, an observation I found extremely disturbing. Back in the lounge, she had attracted admirers of both sexes and all sexual persuasions--she was that beautiful. I began to wonder if this guy was even human.

The Captain took a moment to recover his composure. "Er, good. What about the other disloyal crewmen?"

Mr. Covert snapped his fingers. The second shuttle immediately disgorged more"Marines." They kept coming until a full platoon was assembled at the bottom of the ramp. Their leader barked an order, and they disappeared into one of the bays, presumably on their way to the Marine berths aft.

Shortly afterward, more men poured down from Flight Control. This time they were real Marines: Lt. Hedd's platoon. They ran down the deck and embarked on the second shuttle, followed by the rest of the original Covert Ops squad.

My heart sank. Hedd's Marines represented my last hope of opposing Gant and his pal openly. Obviously the Captain was aware of Lt. Hedd's suspicions.

Gant and the other man stepped back to the edge of the flight deck. Thrusters roaring, the shuttles immediately departed. Captain Gant headed up the stairs,but Stone Face lingered, staring down the length of the flight deck.

As I watched, he reached into the sheath at his belt and took out his knife. I could see it was the same one he'd had in the bar, the two fragments now re-fused. He raised the knife to his lips and then he--he KISSED it!

"It won't be long now, my pet. You'll drink the blood of the Heart of the Tiger for what he did to you!" Jesus Christ, he was TALKING to it! My hair stood on end.

He sheathed his knife and strode off. Trembling, I emerged from my hiding place. That last performance had shaken me to the core. I should never have messed with this nut case!

I ran for the nearest service bay. The deck would be full of people in another minute. "Did you see that, Lex?"

"You gotta get off this ship, Earthworm," she said decisively. "I can watch laughing boy, but if he doesn't get you, the fake Marines will."

"Can you help me get a message to Tolwyn? Or Barbara Dahl?"

"Not a chance. 'Straight Aaro' and Lemonlips have all comm locked down on manual. Escape now, send messages later."

I had no more doubts about Lex. We had bonded as closely as man and AI could. I just hoped it wasn't "until death do us part."

*

I headed for the lounge. I needed to plan my escape in a public place, where Dances-with-Blades couldn't nail me.

I pushed through the crowd and found an empty spot at the bar. For the first time in months, I was tempted to order alcohol, but I resisted. Booze had nearly gotten me killed once on my third tour, and again on Nephritis 2. I settled for lemon seltzer on the rocks; I needed a clear head.

Maniac and Catapult were also at the bar, but they were lost in their own thoughts and barely acknowledged my presence. Vagabond was trying hard to getup a game of cards, and having no success whatsoever.

I considered my options. If I went AWOL anywhere in Confed territory, I'd be found right away, thanks to the publicity of the past few weeks. My reputation would give my story some credibility, but Gant and his covert pals could easily manufacture evidence against me. No, I had to get out of Confed's reach, and that meant I had to join the Unionists.

Would they accept me? I had killed a few, but I had also done all I could to minimize casualties. That should count for something. And I could finger Covert Ops as the source of the conspiracy. Moreover, if this did degenerate into war, wouldn't they rather have the Heart of the Tiger on their side? Not that it would help them, of course.

Yeah, my prospects with the Border Worlds might not be good, but my prospects here were zero. Once we were in the Thera system, I had to seize my first opportunity.

"Earthworm?"

"Yeah, Lex?"

"Captain Gant wants you in the briefing room right away."

Uh-oh. "Er, anyone...unusual with him, Lex?"

"No, sir."

"On my way." I drained my drink and started making my way through the crowd.

Vagabond met me coming the other way. "Business, Colonel?"

"Yeah, maybe a mission coming up. Any luck with the card game?"

"Nah," he snorted. "This tub is dead for me. No action at all."

"Well, why don't you join the other party poopers?" I indicated Catapult and Maniac. "Maybe you can cheer each other up."

He brightened. "Yeah, nothing like cards to take your mind off your troubles!"

*

I took my time getting to the briefing room, half-expecting an ambush at every turn. When I finally arrived, my nerves were tingling. I took a deep breath and activated the door.

"Ah, Colonel. I have good news for you."

Uh-oh. Gant's geniality was more unnerving than his usual arrogance.

I joined him at the holotank. "News, sir?"

"HQ has accepted Union claims of piracy, and has resolved to help them stamp it out. Our first assignment is the Thera system, which we will reach within the hour. We'll be operating with Union vessels in a joint task force. Confed negotiators had one hell of a time getting the Union to agree to that, but HQ believes a successful operation will have a profound effect on the peace negotiations."

Wow! Could he be telling the truth? No, this was much too good to be true.

"Now, as you know, the shortest way from here to Earth is through Thera." Gant brought up a jump route display. "We will take this opportunity to transfer Captain Eisen to his new billet. I assume you want the honor of escorting your friend to the first jump point?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Damn right. Here was my opportunity!

Gant smiled indulgently. "I think we can accommodate you. Take three wingmen and escort him to within a million klicks of the jump point. From this navpoint, the Captain's shuttle will proceed alone. Your wingmen will return to the Lexington. You, Colonel, will then fly solo to this nav point, where you will rendezvous with a special Confed representative."

Uh-oh. That had to be where they planned to finish me off.

"This, er, 'representative' arrived when flight deck access was restricted?"

Gant smiled again. I was beginning to hate each and every individual tooth in his mouth. "Very good, Colonel. Yes. You and he will then fly to this navpoint, where you will land on the BWS Intrepid."

No, Stone Face would just fire a couple of heat-seekers up my ass. I could surprise him, perhaps...No, he might have some pals along.

"You will--For God's sake, man, what is so interesting about the overhead in this compartment?"

Shit. "Sorry,sir." I brought my hand up to the back of my neck and pretended to massage it. "Sore neck. Just stretching, heh heh."

"Hmph. On the Intrepid, you will coordinate flight ops with the Union fighter wing in preparation for our task force rendezvous the following day. Any questions, Colonel?"

"None, sir." I saluted and started for the door. "Lex! Get me Captain Chang,Major--"

"Uh, Colonel," Gant interrupted, "due to its recent erratic behavior, the ship's AI has just been deactivated for modifications to the higher reasoning levels. The computer staff assures me it will be back on line shortly."

I barely managed to conceal my dismay. With Lex out of action, I had no one watching my back. And poor Lex! She'd never be the same, even if they didn't mess with her code, which they were sure to do.

I rounded up Maniac, Vagabond, and Catapult personally, and briefed them on the mission. Strangely, they had no objections to a boring milk run; Catapult was especially pleased at the opportunity to pilot a Hellcat again, as he'd just earned his Hellcat badge two days before.

I was glad they volunteered. I was planning to split on my solo leg, but if anything went wrong, I wanted friends in the nearest cockpits. I also ordered everyone equipped with our few remaining leech missiles, just in case.

By now, mission preparations were second nature to wing personnel, so I could leave operations in Croissant's hands. I wanted to pick up a few precious mementos in my cabin--I had to leave everything else behind, of course—and prepare a little farewell present for the Captain.

I took a moment to compose a trans to Disch. As my girlfriend, she'd be in big trouble when I disappeared; I had to convince Gant she'd already dumped me. I denounced her for breaking off our affair, cursed her loyalty to Gant and Confed, and threatened her. I timed it to be sent while I was on the solo leg of my flight plan. I prayed she was smart enough to play along when Gant and his minions came asking questions. Besides, if the next part of my plan worked out, Gant would have other things on his, er, mind.

I wasn't surprised to find the corridor outside the flag quarters deserted--everyone was at battle stations for the jump--but I was pleasantly surprised to find Gant's door unlocked. I could have gotten in anyway, of course, but it would have taken longer. My business inside took only a few minutes, and then I was out in the corridor again, the door securely locked behind me.

The jump caught me on my way to the locker room. I'd finished just in time.

*

Captain Eisen had wanted no ceremony, but the bays were packed with crewmen who had been released from battle stations after the jump. As he appeared at one of the bay doors with his duffel bag, we all joined in a standing ovation. He stopped long enough to acknowledge our applause with a wave, then disappeared inside the shuttle. William Eisen wasn't one for pomp or sentiment. His pilot, Lt. Homes, followed him into the shuttle and buttoned it up.

I settled back in the seat of my Hellcat. The last long-range patrol was just launching, which meant our flight was next. I waved to my techs for the last time and settled into the pre-flight check.

*

The flight to the first nav point was without incident. For a change, no one was chattering on the comm, not even Maniac. It seemed we all had thoughts to ponder today.

As we neared the first nav point, I sent a general call. "Nav point ho! This is where we part company. Good luck, Cap--"

Vagabond came on the channel. "Guys, I got something to say. I'm not going--"

Maniac interrupted him. "Wait, Vagabond, I got something more important. Ace,you should know that I'm--"

Catapult broke in. "Colonel, sir, I'm sorry to disappoint you like this, but I'm defecting to the Border Worlds. I just can't--"

"YOU'RE defecting!" exclaimed Maniac. "No no! I'M defecting! You'll have to defect some other time!"

"Yer both nuts!" growled Vagabond. "I'm the one who's defecting here! Now get back to the Lexington like good little boys!"

What the hell?

Instantly, the comm channel was jammed.

"You CAN'T defect! This is MY--"

"I defected first!"

"Says who?"

"Look, this was MY idea, so--"

"Fuck you, I'm the one who's going--"

"SILENCE!" Captain Eisen's order cut the debate off instantly. "Now if you three want to defect, that's fine. Colonel Blair can cover for you when here turns--"

"Er, sorry, sir, but I'm defecting, too. You see, Gant is--"

"Blair, you fucking idiot! You can't defect, BECAUSE I'M DEFECTING!"

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Defecting?"

"What did he say, Ace?"

"Look, Colonel," Eisen continued in a calmer tone, "I've known for days now that certain elements within Confed have been provoking this war, and I've been gathering evidence to prove it. As soon as the others were out of range, I was going to fill you in. Lt. Homes and I would take our info to the Union while you stayed behind to gather more evidence. So you see, it's vital that you stay with Confed a while longer, Colonel."

Uh-oh. "Er, Captain, even if I wanted to, I couldn't go back. You see, I left a daisy cutter under Gant's toilet seat. The next time he sits down..."

"Hey, Ace, like the one you used on that idiot general on the Concordia? Jeez,it took 'em a month to grow him a new pair!"

"Yeah, just like that one, Maniac." Garr had been right about the bomb after all, but not about the target. "Captain, my prints and other physical evidence are all over that cabin. I didn't bother being careful."

"Heehee, that's a good one, Colonel! You really are a living leg--"

"Shut up, Catscratch!" Eisen wasn't in a festive mood. "OK, OK, if you can't do it, Vagabond can be my eyes and ears--"

"Uh, sorry, Captain Eisen. I delay-posted nude holopics of Gant on the ship's home G-Spot. With a nasty note. They'll activate in half an hour."

Nude holopics? Now how did Vagabond get those? I thought for a second, and finally decided I didn't want to know.

"Catscratch?" Eisen was grasping at straws. "Can you--"

"Sorry, sir!" Catscratch sounded proud of himself. "I sent a time-delay trans to Captain Gant. Four thousand, three hundred fifty words of pure venom; told him just what he can do with my Confed uniform!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "One place I even called him a...a bastard, sir! Heehee! I'm so bad!"

I rolled my eyes. Of all my cronies on the ship, I had to bring this nitwit?

Speaking of nitwits, there was only one choice left, but Captain Eisen was clearly reluctant to take it. Finally, grudgingly...

"Major Marshall? Please tell me YOU didn't do anything irrevocable."

"Uh, well, sir, I kinda, er, accidentally...shit in Gant's bed. And I, uh--"

"You left a note, right?" Eisen was holding his head in his hands.

"Uh, yessir."

"Idiots! I'm surrounded by idiots! OK, OK, we'll just have to make the best of it. I don't suppose any of you geniuses bothered to figure out just how you were going to defect? Without getting shot down by both sides? Or how to find the Union task force in the first place?"

Uh...

"I thought so. I've been in secret contact with the Union for days. Stand by to download transponder settings, security codes, the works. Lt. Homes, let's get this flea circus on course to the Intrepid. Oh, and Colonel? From now on,we're 'Freedom Flight,' OK?"

*

Captain Eisen was right; the Intrepid task force was not where Gant had said it would be. Obviously Eisen had warned them about Gant's devious plan. Yeah, I could see it all clearly now. Jerk the Ripper would nail me and blame Union treachery; probably some pirate cronies would take out Eisen. Then Gant would ambush the Intrepid force in retaliation, and Covert Ops would have their war. Beautiful. But neither Eisen nor I wanted to be martyrs.

We used only passive sensors, lest we betray ourselves to a Lexington patrol. With the Unionists also flying passive, we needed precise navigation to meet them. As we approached the rendezvous point, however, we quickly found that stealth was no longer necessary.

I had set my comm to monitor all Union and Confed channels. Having both scrambler codes, I was able--for now--to eavesdrop on both sides. Suddenly my scope came alive with active emissions and the comm went crazy.

"I've got bogies!"

"Union ships detected!"

"Confed fighters! Scramble!"

"Bad guys coming!"

Eisen broke in. I'd given comm priority to him and my wingmen. "Colonel!The Union force is under attack! You four get in there and help them!"

"But, Captain, if fighters come after you--"

"If Intrepid is lost, we have no future! Zip! Nada! I'll be fine. Now go!"

"Roger. Freedom Flight, afterburn...now!" Four Hellcats surged ahead as one.

We were still minutes away. I followed the action on the two comm bands.

"Tomato! We weel be in zee range in two minutes! Stay between us and zee Union ships, oui?" That was Major Yu, probably with all of Sixth Longbow. Second Hellcat was covering them. But how had they found the Union force on passives only?

I caught a woman's voice, shrill with stress. "Gopher squadron! Gopher--Where the hell is the rest of Gopher squadron?" Obviously Union, she was probably Gopher leader. Er, 'Gopher?'

I commed my wingmen. "Freedom Flight, switch transponders to Confed pattern. Maybe we can sneak up on our old friends." It made me sick to ambush pilots I still thought of as "mine." Thank God we were carrying leeches. Too bad they weren't.

"Captain Eisen, warn your friends to ignore our transponders! Freedom Flight,go active now!" On active sensors, I had a much clearer picture of the battle. Major Yu's heavies were attacking in a classic disk pattern, axis toward the Union capships. The Hellcats were in front. Opposing them were a squadron of Vindicators and at least one of Banshees. Croissant was outnumbered, but his Longbows carried a shitload of missiles and he only needed one hole in the Union screen.

We were coming up on Croissant's flank. The leading Hellcats fired their first missile volley at the defending fighters and broke off in evasive maneuvers. The Longbows followed with another volley of FFs.

Now we were in range! "Catapult, you're with me! Freedom Flight, break and attack!" I broke formation and changed course to pursue a pair of Longbows.

"Time for some Maniac magic!"

"Time to earn my pay!"

"I'm going for it, Earthworm!"

On burner, the Hellcat was about 500 kps faster than the Longbow. I closed rapidly on my target's rear.

He's jinking, dropping decoys, losing a Union IR. I'm locked, launch! His alarm must be screaming at him! Break off, you idiot! No, he's trying to decoy--splat! Hah! My missile was too close. I flashed by the helpless fighter and looked for more targets.

KABOOM! There goes a Banshee! Shit! KABOOM! A Hellcat! Damn! Whoop!Whoop! Whoop! Shit, a Union IR! Quick, change transponder code...Whoopwho--. Silence! Heehee, this is fun!

Oh shit, five Longbows are launching on the Union ships! Ten torps running,eight at the carrier--Jesus Christ, who designed that demented catamaran?

Miss, you fuckers, miss! Hey, one of the frigates is trying to intercept...KERBLAM! KERBLAM! One hit amidships takes down the shields! The other blows against the port bow--Ouch! The hull buckles, portions of the armor and outer hull are stripped away. Flotsam spews from a dozen holes. Force fields have failed, and the forward third of the ship is airless! Though operational, the frigate slows noticeably.

Intrepid is turning for all she's worth to mask her vulnerable engines! Two will miss...maybe a third? No! KERBLAM! KERBLAM! The ship staggers, top shields failing. KERBLAM! Another hit on top, forward. KERBLAM! Starboard amidships, smack on the island! Her bridge is vaporized, and her skin peels like an orange. Debris dribbles from the wounds. No air, though. Forcefields are in place, but the shields aren't coming back. Intrepid's turrets are silent.

The Confeds headed off to regroup for another run. Damaged fighters on both sides pulled back. Croissant had four undamaged Longbows and six Hellcats,and he was still game. Even one more hit could take out the Intrepid for good.

The capships changed course and headed for the nearby Silenos jump point. Two frigates trailed, one badly. The undamaged Union fighters hovered between them and Croissant's force; if they went after the Confeds, they might be left behind when the capships jumped.

I had a whole new set of active emissions on my scope. Following standard doctrine, Croissant would attempt to cripple Intrepid and keep it on this side of the jump point, to be finished off by the incoming strike.

"Freedom Flight, form on my wing! Captain Eisen, get these gomers back on the carrier! I'll stall Croissant!" I switched to the Confed channel. Did Major Yu have the full story of my defection?

"Major Yu! This is Colonel Christopher Blair! Break off the attack and return to the Lexington!"

"Mon Colonel? You are traitor to zee Confederation! Surrendaire, now!"

Keep him talking, Blair. "Croissant, Captain Gant is part of a Covert Ops conspiracy to provoke war with the Border Worlds. I've seen him plotting with my own eyes! Captain Eisen has further proof. Don't do their dirty work for them, Hower!"

I checked my scope. The Union fighters were pulling back. Vindicators were already landing on-- What the-- Intrepid had a tractor beam on the last frigate! Were those madmen actually going to tow her through the jump point?

"Eef you haff zee proof you claim, zen present it at zee court-martial! Now for zee last time, all of you, surrendaire!"

I made one last plea. "Hower, you know our whole tour's been fishy! Listen--"

"Break and attack! De l'audace, encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace!"

Merde! I switched to my wingmen. "Delaying action, guys! Launch at long range and retreat!" We went to full throttle and spread into combat formation.

As soon as we got locks, we fired and turned at max. A few missiles came our way, but we evaded easily. So did the Confeds, but they lost precious time. We pulled it off twice more, all the time closing on Intrepid.

The Unionists were all aboard. "Vagabond, Catapult, land now! Maniac, let's get 'em one more time!"

"Watch and learn, Ace!" This time Maniac pressed his attack home. He fired both his remaining leeches at one Hellcat and fired his blasters at another. Dancing his Hellcat as I had never seen before, he avoided blaster fire and one, two, three missiles, then tore back past me on full afterburner with two Hellcats on his tail.

"Haha, they can't touch me! Brought ya some playmates, Ace!" Shit! They broke off pursuit of Maniac and came at me!

I'm locked on one! Launch! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Pull up! Decoy! Decoy! Missed me! Splat! Hah! Where's the other-- Oh, shit, blue flame all over the jumppoint! There goes the first frigate! Get back or you're marooned, Blair!Hey, want some more good news? You're nearly out of fuel!

I punch afterburner anyway, approaching Intrepid at a 30-degree angle. Bam! Bam! Shit! Switch power to shields and dance, Blair, dance! Bam! Shit! At least he's out of missiles! There goes Vagabond...there goes Catapult--Whew,just made it, Catapult!

Whoosh! The second frigate jumps! Blue flame starting to envelop Intrepid!Shit! Too much angle, I can't change course in time on burner! Bam! And I can't slow down, or I'm cooked! Maniac's safe! One chance! Be with me, my Angel!

I rolled and pulled the stick for all I was worth. Bam! Bam! Dammit, rearshields down! Steady, you'll get just one chance...now!

I pulled into the path of the tractor beam between Intrepid and the frigate. Instantly my tiny fighter was yanked off course and toward the gaping maw of Intrepid's aft entrance. I was jolted unmercifully as my inertial dampers screamed under the strain, but I survived. Somehow I managed to cut power,level out, and miss the starboard bulkhead by a hair's breadth!

Oh, no! The landing field was malfunctioning! It disabled my drive as it was supposed to, but I emerged with too much velocity. Desperately, I fired retro thrusters! Not enough! Hang on!

Whang! My starboard wingtip collided with something that shouldn't be there. I spun madly down the deck, tortured metal squealing at a pitch that stabbed through my skull! Whang! I whacked my helmet on the canopy as the ship was brought to a sudden stop.

Whew! I was dizzy and my head hurt, but I was down. At least I was safe for the--

Hyperjump! Intrepid was damaged and towing a large mass whose own jump engines were definitely not sync'd with the carrier's. My insides were twisted and squeezed; every muscle in my body went into instant spasm. In a nanosecond that seemed to last a lifetime, I was pulled inside out and then back again. I barely managed to yank my helmet off before I heaved the entire contents of my stomach all over the cockpit. But that wasn't enough for my tortured gut,which continued to convulse in a determined effort to add every organ in my body to the mess.

Finally, all heaved out, I lay helpless in the cockpit, oblivious to the din around me. One thought ran through my mind: Welcome to the Union of Border Worlds, sir. Have a nice day. Welcome to the...

End of Chapter 10

Previews from Chapter 11:

"Besides, Zeke, I think you'll want to stay. We're having Admiral Tolwyn for dinner."

"Jeepers, that's really SICK, Colonel!"

"Make your peace, Blair-ass! Here's an IR up your butt!"

Chapter 11

Still nauseated, I barely managed to pop my canopy and clamber down the side of my ship into a bedlam of explosions and screams. Somehow I managed to hold onto my flight helmet.

BLAM!

An explosion in the next bay blew me up against the wrecked Vindicator my Hellcat had hit on the way in. Stunned, I slumped to my knees. Several deckhands came running toward me with hoses and extinguishers. Groggily, I held out my hand.

"B-Blair. Chris--"

They brushed right by me and blasted away at at a torrent of flame pouring from the bay. A tech looked back at me in annoyance, and shouted, "Well don't just sit there, Bearkiss, get up and grab an extinguisher!"

Some welcome! I picked up one of the heavy cylinders and helped them beat the flames back. My wits were returning, but I was choking on the heavy smoke. I stopped for a second to put my helmet on again; the suit itself had about a 30minute air supply.

The tech--the tag on his fatigues read "Barr"--was trying to get his hose closer to the flames, but the heat was too intense. The few crewmen in flame suits were needed forward, where missiles were cooking off on a parked Banshee,so I grabbed the hose myself and pressed forward. Despite the flight suit's insulation, I wouldn't have lasted long so close to the heat if the others hadn't smothered me in foam. As it was, my point-blank chemical barrage quickly subdued the fire.

BLAM!

An explosion two bays down flattened a fire-fighting party, burying at least two of them in wreckage. My hose suddenly went slack. Barr signaled to me,and we both ran over with extinguishers, leaving the rest behind to mop up.

One man was crawling free, but another was still pinned by a steel beam. A 2ndlieutenant had two men lifting it while she tried to pull the victim out. They got nowhere. One of the techs collapsed in a coughing fit, a reaction to the increasingly foul air.

Barr yelled over the roar of the flames. "Lieutenant Tennant! This is Colonel Bearkiss! How can we help?" He coughed a couple of times himself.

I doffed my helmet. "Actually, my name is Bl--"

She ignored me. "Barr, help out with that fire before another one blows!" She pointed to the bay, where several hands were making little progress against the inferno. She wiped the soot out of her eyes and turned to me. "Bearkiss, grab that beam!"

BLAM!

Two men in flight suits were blown out of a bay across the flight deck. They landed hard and didn't move. I put them out of my mind and concentrated on lifting the beam.

Even with three of us, it didn't budge. It was just too damn heavy.

"Hold it!" I yelled. They stopped heaving and looked at me, breathing heavily."Look, why don't we just turn off the grav generator under this section? Then we can get him out easily."

The lieutenant stared at me blankly. "What?"

"In fact," I went on, "we should turn off all the gravgens! Without gravity,the fires will smother themselves!" Damn, I should have thought of it sooner!"No flames in zero--"

"Hahaha! Oh, that's just fucking brilliant!" Tennant turned to the people working around us. "Attention! Attention, everyone!" They stopped what they were doing and looked at her. She pointed to me. "The brilliant Colonel Bearkiss here says we should turn off the grav generators!" She pretended to lose her balance, and careened all over the place with her arms flapping."Oops, somebody catch me, I'm floating away!"

"Bwahahahahaha!" The onlookers broke into laughter. A few wags joined in.

"Hey, let's reverse 'em! Then we can walk upside down! Hahahaha!"

"No, turn 'em sideways! Heehee!"

"Look! With my extinguisher, I could be a rocket plane! Wheee! Hahahaha!"

I just gaped in astonishment. Border Worlders weren't renowned for their intelligence, of course, but I'd had no idea they were utter cretins.

Then I got mad. I had risked my life for these morons, and here they were mocking me while their ship burned around them? "You stupid bitch!" I screamed. "I was fighting Kilrathi when you were still in diapers! Where do you get off--" I staggered as a torrent of foam hit me. Spitting foam, I spun around to find the culprit.

A grinning tech waved his extinguisher at me. "You looked a bit hot, Bearkiss. Thought you might explode. Haw haw haw!"

I probably would have killed him right then and there, if I hadn't been stopped by a small voice from the deck.

"Er, excuse me?" I looked down. It was the tech pinned under the beam. "So sorry to interrupt," he said apologetically, "but I'm, you know, still pinned here, and, uh, that fire is getting closer."

Shit! We'd forgotten all about him! I looked around frantically. Where would the grav controls be on this--

"Gangway!"

What the-- I jumped aside just in time to avoid a weapons loader coming at breakneck speed. The driver screeched to a halt in front of the hole in the bay door and dropped a huge metal plate over it. With the flames mostly blocked, the hands could close in and pour foam through the spaces around the plate.

I caught a glimpse of a short, skinny tech in the driver's seat before the vehicle backed around and brought a mechanical arm down on the beam. With a screech of metal on metal, the beam lifted, and we were able to pull our man free. The beam dropped again and the loader roared down the deck, dodging equipment and crew with reckless abandon. A glimpse of stringy, dark blonde hair under a floppy cap suggested the driver was actually a woman, but I couldn't swear to it.

I surveyed the flight deck. It looked like the worst was over. There were no more explosions, and the last of the fires were dying. Smoke was everywhere,but I felt fresh, cool air blowing on my face. The life support system was still in working order.

Captain Eisen and my wingmen were helping with casualties on the port side of the flight deck. I hurried to join them.

Oh no! The Captain had blood on his uniform! "Captain Eisen, are you all right?" I cried.

He looked up from the woman he was tending, then down at his uniform. "I'm fine, Colonel. It's, uh, not my blood." He gently closed his patient's unseeing eyes and stood up. "Good Lord, man, you're covered in foam!" He started brushing at my flight suit.

Catnap and Vagabond were easing a tech onto a grav stretcher. A deckhand pushed the floating stretcher toward an undamaged maintenance bay, where pharmacist's mates were tending casualties. Lt. Homes was in there, just setting down a patient he'd been carrying.

"Hey, Ace, I'M fine, thanks for asking!" Maniac was his usual cheerful self. He pulled out a pocket mirror and started wiping soot off his face.

I heard a voice behind me, and immediately recognized it as belonging to Gopher Leader. "Are you Captain Eisen?"

Gopher Leader turned out to be a short, not unattractive woman with tousled brown hair, wearing a scorched flight suit. She was dwarfed by her companion,a huge bear of a man with handsome features and a vacant look.

"Yes, I'm Eisen."

"This is Colonel Jacob Manley, and I'm Colonel Tamara Farnsworth."

Manley? Farnsworth? I turned to the Captain. "I know those names. They're Hulk and Panties!"

Vagabond spoke up. "Yeah, their ship was with the Victory in the Astoria campaign."

Panties turned her attention to me. "And you're 'Maverick' Blair."

Actually, I hadn't used that callsign in years, but the tag on my suit was obscured by foam.

"Er, my new callsign--"

Hulk broke in impatiently. "Hulk love get-to-know-you games, but Hulk and Panties very busy--"

"Hulk! Hulk!" A young female pilot was frantically calling to the big Border Worlder. "Archie's trapped under here! Hurry!"

The giant lumbered over to where a man in a flight suit was pinned by a toppled loader. He reached down, got a good grip, and easily lifted the huge rig long enough for the pilot to scramble out. He let go and it crashed onto the deck. The man and woman embraced tightly.

Catnap whistled in amazement. "Wow, that's incredible, Hulk!"

"Ahem." Maniac stepped forward. "I'm the Maniac. No doubt you've heard of me." He offered his hand to Panties. "Looks like you folks took some pretty heavy hits here, sweet buns."

Panties looked at his hand as if it had crawled out from under a rock. "Well, duuhhh!" she answered. Maniac had obviously made a good first impression.

Eisen spoke up. "If you could direct me to Captain Dominguez, he's expecting us, er, me, at least."

Hulk was back. "Bridge gone. Captain dead. First Officer dead. Second Officer dead. Comm officer--"

Panties broke in. "Er, thank you, Hulk. Captain Eisen, our captain filled us in on your defection. We weren't expecting the whole scout troop..." She indicated the six of us. "...but you saved our butts with that rearguard action, and you're all welcome to stay."

Hulk continued reciting. "Wombat Leader dead. Chief Engineer--"

Panties kicked him in the shin. "Shut up, Hulk! Gentlemen, Confed will becoming after us. We have to get this task force shipshape pronto! Maverick,you take charge of the flight deck. Captain Eisen, we can use you in CIC."

Wow, what a take-charge woman! She reminded me of Angel.

"Ouch!" said Hulk. He reached down to massage his shin before following the Captain and Panties.

I turned to my companions and the Border Worlders who had gathered around us."OK, most of the undamaged bays are on the port side. Let's clear all wreckage to the starboard side of the flight deck so we can resume flight operations at half-capacity. Don't jettison anything; I have a feeling we'll need stuff for jury-rigs." I just hoped this tub had a good supply of chewing gum and baling wire.

*

"Ouch! Damn! Damn!" I stuck my injured finger in my mouth and sucked on it. For the second time, the old-fashioned manual screwdriver had slipped and I had stabbed my left index finger. I was tempted to give up, but I'd be easy meat without a working stabilizer on my starboard wingtip.

Cursing, I resumed the task of fastening the new module into place. Profiting from my previous failures, I took my time, pressing hard and twisting slowly. Hah! Gotcha! With a sigh, I closed the battered cover as best I could,securing it with a generous strip of duct tape.

I stepped back and appraised the Hellcat. Despite the scorches and dents from my crash landing, it was still combat worthy, in vacuum at least. As soon as Barr and his techs finished repairs to the collapsed landing gear, I'd be ready for launch.

Lt. Tennant returned, dragging another leech missile on a manual loader. It was no easy task hauling the heavy missiles all the way from the midships magazine, but she'd done it six times, without complaint. She was, in fact,downright cheerful.

"Last missile for Colonel Gravgen!" she announced, much to the amusement of Barr and his techs. I winced. After three hours of non-stop needling, that woman had risen to the top of my payback list.

I helped her wrestle the loader into place and started jacking up the missile manually. Tennant sat down and wiped her sweaty face with her sleeve. She tried to stuff her dark, curly hair back into its bun, but it was hopeless.

Giving up on her hair, she watched me struggling with the loader. "Say, Bearkiss, why don't we reverse the grav generator and let the missile fall UP into place! Heeheehee!"

Moron. "Die, please, Lieutenant," I suggested. "But first help me with these system connectors. And I told you: it's Blair, not Bearkiss."

She stood up with a groan and started working on the aft connectors. "So,Bear--er, Blair, you got a first name?"

I was in no mood for chitchat. "Yeah: 'Colonel!'" Shit, did the Border Worlders have an incompatible version of the leech? I couldn't mate the second connector with--

Tennant gently took the connectors from my hands and deftly plugged them in. She wiped her hand on her fatigues and held it out to me. "Mine's Louise. My friends call me Lou. I work in the missile stores."

I hesitated, then grasped her hand. I didn't like being hazed, but since the Unionists obviously considered it an important initiation ritual, I could play along. "Christopher. Er, Chris." The Unionists weren't big on formality.

"Niceta meetya, Chris." She did a double-take. "Christopher Blair? Say,aren't you the guy from--"

"No! I'm not!" I quickly climbed into the cockpit for a full systems check. I'd gotten most of the vomit out, but a faint smell still lingered. I ignored it and proceeded with pre-flight. Everything was OK. Even the landing gear came up green. I signaled thumbs-up to Barr and his techs as they hauled their gear over to the next bay.

I checked the comm channels for progress reports. The third frigate, BWS THX,was up to half speed at last and following us. Nearly a million klicks from the jump point, our task force would soon be enveloped in the relative safety of the Silenos Nebula.

Just as well. We were in no shape to ride out an attack. Two of our escorts were barely able to move, let alone fight. Intrepid had resumed flight ops,but wreckage on the flight deck and damage to landing systems cut efficiency in half. Maintenance bay damage and massive casualties severely hampered fighter servicing; we had only two fighters on CAP and six ready to go. Only two of Intrepid's laser turrets were back on line.

I climbed down to help Barr hook up his tractor to my bird. I watched him spot it for launch, then headed for Catnap's maintenance bay to help him re-arm. Along the way, I fingered the vial of dirt in my chest pocket. Suddenly thrust into an unfamiliar environment, and facing a uncertain future, I needed the comfort of old memories.

It worked. As I labored under Catnap's Hellcat, I found solace in my recollections of familiar places and old friends. Inevitably, I drifted back to Zeke's first visit...

*

After Zeke's shocking revelations, neither of us had spoken for some time. Lost in his memories, Zeke continued stroking Rachel; I occupied myself with Robin. At last, I felt the time was right to end our reveries and move on.

"I thank you, my friend, for sharing the darkest of Kilrathi secrets with your old enemy. They're safe with me. But come, we're here to share old times, not wallow in them. We still have much to discuss."

Zeke roused himself from his black mood. "You're right, Christopher. We have a long history, you and I." He looked at my old-fashioned digital clock on the wall. "But it grows late. I understand your species takes its third meal of the day at about this time, and I do not wish to intrude. Let us continue at another--"

I held up my hand. "Nonsense. I insist you eat with us. Girls!" I snapped my fingers. Robin jumped up and stood in front of me expectantly. Rachel leaped off Zeke's lap and took her place next to Robin. "Besides, Zeke, I think you'll want to stay. We're having Admiral Tolwyn for dinner." I winked at the girls, who barked and meowed their appreciation for our old joke. I waved toward the kitchen and they took off.

Zeke and I followed. "Christopher, you would actually allow that man to attend your food consumption ritual? Our intelligence indicated you and he had long been blood enemies."

I put food in the girls' bowls and set them down next to each other. Rachel,of course, was by nature an all-day nibbler, but she and Robin had grown so fond of each other that she insisted on being served a small portion at Robin's feeding time, so they could share.

"Tolwyn and I have had our differences," I admitted. "But more than anything else, it was his tenacity and sheer cussedness that kept us in the war. We've developed...a certain mutual respect."

I walked out the kitchen door, motioning for Zeke to follow. We trudged down the path to the chicken house, where I stopped and pointed.

"Zeke, may I present Grand High Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn the Thirty-Seventh!"The "Admiral", a large Leghorn rooster, was busily scratching at the ground,pecking at seeds and insects, and bullying every hen within reach.

Zeke broke into laughter. "Hohohoho, Christopher! My compliments on your sense of humor! How ironic that two such wild and crazy beings should waste so much of their lives in the grim business of war! Heeheehee!"

I took my wire hook and soon captured the bad-tempered rooster. Even now, he was more mad than afraid, trying to peck my leg as I held him upside down. No,I wouldn't miss this Tolwyn at all. I had already selected Admiral Tolwyn the Thirty-Eighth, a nasty old hen that had scratched my hand two days ago.

I took my axe and headed for the chopping stump, but Zeke stopped me. "I no longer eat flesh, Christopher, so it is unnecessary to end this one's life today."

So he'd become a vegetarian after all. "Actually, I've been planning this along time, Zeke. So if you don't mind sitting at a table where, er, flesh is being consumed..."

He shook his head. "Then allow me, my friend. Your axe will not be required."Zeke carefully took "Tolwyn" from me and headed for the corner of the house. Curious, I followed. The rooster grew apprehensive when the menacing Kilrathi took possession of him, but slowly relaxed as Zeke cooed and hummed soothingly.

Once out of sight of the chicken house, Zeke held "Tolwyn" up in front of him. Without warning, he bared his fangs and loosed a blood-curdling roar right in the face of the terrified rooster. "Tolwyn" went rigid with shock, then collapsed completely. I had no doubt he was stone dead. I was nearly dead with fright myself, and I was three meters away.

Zeke gleefully held out the dead bird. "Heeheehee! I just love doing that!"

"Er, yeah, Zeke. Thanks. Your method is certainly, er, more humane than mine. Um, could you give him to the kitchen droid while I, uh, get a few things ready inside?"

I hurried off to change my underwear. Again. Damn, having Zeke around was going to take some getting used to.

*

Remembering how Lou had done it, I managed to fit the last missile connector to Catnap's Hellcat. "Try it now, Catnap!" I yelled.

Up in the cockpit, Catnap re-checked his missile status. "Yeah, that did it!Thanks, Colonel!" He signaled to Barr, who went to fetch his tractor.

Whew. Time for a break. Reminiscing about that dinner with Zeke had made me hungry. I headed for the workbench at the rear of the bay, where a deckhand had left some sandwiches and coffee. Coffee! Shit, I hadn't been to the head since I "landed!" Ohhhh, now I really had to go!

Where was the nearest can on this stupid tub? I saw a faded directory on the wall and quickly tracked down the nearest...shit, that area was blocked by wreckage. What about the next--damn, blown up! Keep looking...aaargh, it's burned out!!

No good. I ran over to the spares lockers and ransacked them frantically for--Hah! A relief kit! With a sigh, I relaxed and started attaching it to the valve in the flight suit's crotch area. Any second now...shit, it doesn't fit!Desperately, I strained to make the connection by sheer brute--

"If you're going to play with yourself, Colonel, you really should find a less public area."

I spun around, trying to conceal the relief kit behind me. It was that damn Tennant again, leaning against the bulkhead with an amused look on her face."Er, Lieutenant! Uh, I was just, uh..." Shit, give it up, Blair. I showed her the kit. "I was trying to connect the relief kit, Louise."

Her smile grew bigger. "Well, here in the Border Worlds, most of us use the head. But, if ya gotta go, ya gotta go. Here, let me help you."

"Uh, no, that won't--"

"Oh, don't be such a baby!" She grabbed my, er, valve, and dragged me to the workbench. She knelt and inspected the fitting. "Here's your problem, silly. Foam and soot in the threads. Wait a sec." She brought her lips up to the valve and blew hard to clear it out. A few drops of white retardant foams pattered her face.

That, of course, was when Catnap decided to walk in. "Colonel, my 'cat is spotted for--Yikes! Uh, sorry! I didn't know you t-two were--" He started to turn away.

Shit! "Wait, Catnap, it's not that! Come and and see!"

I wouldn't have thought his eyes could get any wider, but they did. "Jeepers,that's really SICK, Colonel!" He shot out of the bay like a rocket.

Louise blew the valve out one more time, then wiped it with a rag. She reached for the relief kit, but I wrestled it out of her hands and turned away to finish by myself. Unfortunately, my own hands were shaking too hard. Sheepishly, I turned around again; Louise was still waiting patiently. She made the connection in one smooth motion and stood up, smiling.

I turned away again, but she didn't take the hint. "Ahem! If you don't mind,Lieutenant?"

"Hmm? Oh." She turned her back. Not that there was anything to see, of course, but... Shit, I'd been a civilian too long.

Finally! Here we go...ahhhhhh! My surroundings faded as I gave myself up to the exquisite feeling of release.

Whew. I disconnected and looked for a place to dispose of the, er, contents.

Louise took it from me before I could react. She whistled at the weight."Wow, you really did have to go, didn't you? Colonel, next time you need help,just ask me, OK? I have the best hands on the ship. Ask anyone. In fact..."Her tone was inviting. "...I could arrange a private dem--"

The PA squawked to life. "General quarters! Inbound enemy fighters! This is a scramble! All pilots up! All pilots up!" The GQ alarm sounded and crewmen started running for their battle stations.

Thank God! I smiled at Louise. "Sorry! Gotta go!" I grabbed my gauntlets and helmet, and sprinted for my Hellcat.

*

Barr had spotted my Hellcat in the third row, right next to a Banshee. As I leaped into the cockpit, I was buffeted by full thrusters from the Banshee ahead of me. The launch field caught it and instantly catapulted it far into space. Its engines ignited and it disappeared.

I had the canopy secured and myself belted in when the Banshee next to me took off like a bat out of hell. Damn, these Union pilots were reckless! Well,when in Rome... As soon as Barr cleared my port wingtip with the ladder, I fired full thrusters. The launch field activated my engines and flung me out ahead of the ship.

My scope was alive with contacts. Intrepid and her escorts had gone active as soon as the alarm was sounded, and now I was getting feeds from four ships and half a dozen fighters. Automatically, I configured my ship for combat, as I tried to size up the situation.

Gant was no fool. He'd followed us through the jump point and immediately launched strike/escort teams. Figuring, correctly, that we'd make directly for the nebula, he'd spread the teams in a disc pattern centered on a direct course to it. They'd remained passive until they neared the nebula, then went active and nailed us. Now we had at least four Longbow/Hellcat strike teams converging on us from several directions.

Confusion reigned. Intrepid's fighter direction center was out of action, we had fighters from three different ships out, and so far no squadron leader had made it off Intrepid. Fighters were picking targets and engaging solo. The comm was jammed with their calls.

"Excell, take the one to starboard!" Shit, which one's Excell?

"Get 'im off my tail! Get 'im off--aaah!" A fireball in the distance put an end to that call.

"Moose, where are you?" Better yet, Moose, WHO are you?

"Where's Bearkiss?"

"Who the hell is Bearkiss?" Obviously I wasn't the only one confused.

"Maverick!" It was Panties. "Take your defectors and hit this strike group!"Brackets appeared around one of my contacts as she designated my target.

"Roger, Panties! Earthworm to Freedom Flight, follow me in!"

"Who's Maverick? That sounded like Bearkiss!"

"Who the hell is Earthworm, Maverick?" Now Panties was confused.

"Hulk ask, who Freedom Flight?"

"WHO'S MAVERICK, GOSH DARN IT?" Oops, Catnap didn't know my old callsign.

"Hulk head hurt!"

There! Two Longbows burning for Intrepid! A Banshee had pulled off one escort already, but the other three were sticking with the heavies. I changed course,hit burner, and armed my leeches. I boosted shield regen; blasters wouldn't take out a Longbow fast enough, and I'd have Confed fighters all over my ass in seconds.

"We'll take the 'cats, Earthworm!" Hallelujah, Vagabond and Maniac were just behind me on burner. Er, thanks, Winston, leave me the two toughest targets,why don't you? How can I stop two Longbows this close to their targets?

"You suck lemons, Border World lowlife!" It was a Lexington rookie, 2nd Lt. Boone "Doc" Hicks, from Fifth Longbow. Boy, he never was any good at taunt--Hey! I got an idea! I killed burner and locked a leech on the other Longbow.

"Doc, this is Earthworm! What the hell kind of torpedo approach is that?You're way too sloppy! Where the hell did you learn to fly, KAMIKAZE SCHOOL?"

"Er, sorry, sir! I don't know what..." Doc was an excellent flyer, but he'd always been eager to please in our wing exercises. It seemed old habits died hard in Lt. Hicks.

"Don't bore me with your miserable excuses, Doc! Now pull out and try again,and I just MIGHT overlook this on your efficiency report!"

"Y-yessir! Thank you, Colonel Blair, sir!" One Longbow peeled off and headed away from Intrepid.

"Doc, you stupid--Blair's on the OTHER side, nitwit!" Too late. Ungulate's pleadings couldn't bring Doc back in time.

Just you and me now, Ungulate! Closer...Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Jesus, two FFs and two IRs! Start dumping decoys! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Still two locked at twelve o'clock, high and low...roll left and pull! Whoo-- Missed! Keep pulling! Longbow ho! Hit burner and close... Jesus, he's nearly in range of Intrepid! Lock, leech! I flash back to my kindergarten days. See leech. See leech lock. Lock, leech, lock! Yes!

Bam! Bam! Shit, Hellcat on my tail! Bam! Shit, Longbow turret fire! Dance,but don't lose lock! OK, range is point blank, launch! Splat! Yaaaay!

Whoopwhoopwhoop! PULL, BLAIR! Decoy! Whoo-- Jesus, that was close! Oh shit, I can't shake the guy on my tail!

"Time to learn how cold steel is, traitor!" Steel, it's shit! I mean--

Bam! Bam! Shield failing! Dance! Dance, Blair! Shit, he'll get me sooner or lat-- Huh? Where'd he go?

"I got this one, Colonel!" Catnap! Steel saw him coming and pulled out!Catnap, I'm sorry for everything I ever said about you!

Now where's Doc?...There! Shit, I took too long with Ungulate! Burner!

Damn, Doc's nearly in range! Intrepid's shields are still down! No way in hell I can reach him, and nobody else is near enough, either!

"You won't fool me this time, B-Blair, you t-traitor! I'm gonna get you and all your t-traitor friends!" The poor kid was practically crying. It must have broken his heart when his hero defected!

It killed me to do it, but I knew how to use his emotions against him. He was scared, and angry, and hurt, and now he was alone. He was close to emotional overload, and I had to push him over the edge.

"Oh, yeah? I'm the Heart of the Tiger, kid, and you're tiger chow! RROOAARR!The Tiger is hungry! I'm coming for YOU, maggot!" Launch leech number two!No way it'll hit, but the alarm will add to his confusion. Overload him,Blair! "You're mine, sucker!" Yeah, he's jinking away from the missile, it just lost lock... "Here comes another one, you poor bastard!" Hah! He's launching his two torps at max range! At least Intrepid has a chance!

He's pulling out! Don't let him set up for another run! Gun power up, save your leeches! Get on his tail, auto-match speed, dance around the tail gun,wait...Now! Bangbangbangbang! Rapid fire, multiple hits! Rear shield down, a couple of armor hits. Wait for recharge...continuous fire! Hit! Hit! Boy,am I good! His ship's disintegrating in front of me!

"Eject! Eject, you loser! You're mine! You feel your armor going, rookie? Controls sluggish? Losing power? You're history! You're done! Say good-bye to your mama, kid! Ready...HERE IT COMES!"

"Yaaaahhhhh!" The kid ejected in a panic. Whew! I had held fire there at the end, hoping he'd jump. Thank God. A final blast and his ship was scrap metal.

What about Intrepid? She was up to full speed and turning to starboard. The torpedoes flashed past one of the frigates, but it looked like they had lost lock and--WHAM! Proximity detonation a few hundred meters behind Intrepid. She must have taken some engine damage, because she slowed noticeably. But that torpedo evasion was beautiful, just like the old Victory in the Tamayo system three long years ago.

The task force was coming my way, running from the dogfights still going on behind it. Freedom Flight was pursuing two Hellcats out of the area. I set my sensors to look for escape pods...yeah, I found Doc's a few hundred klicks off. Readout was normal. Whew.

"Doc, you OK?"

"G-go away!"

Poor kid. He thought he'd failed. "Look, Boone, we're not enemies, OK? You know there's something fishy about these terrorist incidents, kid. I'm going to get to the bottom of it, I promise."

"I-I wish I could believe that, sir."

"You will, in time." I hope. "Lexington will pick you up in a few hours,

Boone. Stay--" Shit! Bandits! All our fighters were on the other side of the task force!

I switched channels. "Bandits! Three T-bolts!" I designated the targets and took off after them. "Earthworm needs help!"

"Who's Earthworm?" Oh shit, not again!

"Maverick, go help Earthworm!" I AM, Panties, you dumb bitch!

"Bearkiss, can you help Earthworm?" I AM, Gomer, I AM!

"Hulk head hurt worse now." That goes double for me, Brainiac.

Looks like you're on your own, Blair. Dammit, I beg for heavy fighters everyday for two weeks, and NOW Lexington gets Thunderbolts! Shit! How do I hold off three heavies in a Hellcat? I might get one, but the other two will get past me and nail Intrepid! Maybe I can give them a more tempting target.

"What, only three of you? Too easy for the Heart of the Tiger! Maybe I'll put one hand behind my back."

"It's him! The traitor!" Must be a new squadron, I don't recognize the voice.

"You were always overrated, shrimp! We'll take you down like that!" I heard this guy snap his fingers.

It's working! Good! Er, I guess. "Talk is cheap, flatlander!" If I survive the first pass, they'll be hooked. Set gun recharge way down. Wiggle your fingers and get loose, Blair! Charge!

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Three IRs converging! Blaster fire! Bambambam! Jeez,forward shields down already! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy! Burner! Straight ahead! Wham! I'm hit! No, just a proximity blast. When will those dummies learn that one decoy can take out three missiles as easily as one?

Kill burner. Turn, Blair, turn! Taunt, Blair, taunt! "Haha! Missed me!Incompetents! Hey, who wipes yer asses when you shit? Yer mamas? Hahaha!"

"This time, motherfucker!" Hah, they're turning! But one guy's turning my way! Deflection shot! Bangbangbang! A couple of hits! I overshoot, then come back on his tail. Lock, leech! Bang! Bang! Hit! Just another--

Bam! Bam! Whoopwhoopwhoop! TURN, BLAIR! Decoy! Missed! Whoopwhoopwhoop!

Starboard, too close! Remember that trick Rachel taught you? Rotate! WHAMMO!Shields down, armor vaporized, but no damage! The spin spread the explosion over two shield quadrants! Stop spinning and turn, Blair, turn!

Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy! Decoy! Turn into it! Missed! Whoopwhoopwhoop!Decoy! Turn! Missed! T-bolt crossing my path! Deflection shot and turn!Bang! Bang! Bang! I hit him! Now taunt!

"Take that, loser! Hey, I'm still here, you greenhorns! Nyaah nyaah!"

Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy! Another! Turn! Missed! Must be a new record!

"Make your peace, Blair-ass! Here's an IR up your butt!"

Damn, these guys are good! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy! Decoy! Turn! Missed!Jesus Christ, what have I done? These guys won't quit until I'm dead! Time to make tracks! If Intrepid's fighters aren't back by now, it's just too damn bad!

Burner! Bam! Bam! Rear hits! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy--ALL GONE! Turn! Too sluggish on burner, WHAMMO! The instrument panel turns into a Christmas tree!Burner out! Guns damaged! Engines damaged! Bleed some power into autorepair!

Whoopwhoopwhoop! Turn, Blair, turn! Please, God, make it miss me! Whew!

"Yer not so cocky now, traitor! Hahaha!"

Damn right! I'm scared shitless! So this is how Blair gets it: "Friendly"fire, shot-up fighter, an obscure star system. Sic transit gloria Blair.

So be it! Head-on with this guy! Leech locks too slow, guns too weak, ram the bastard! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Avoid this missile and nail--WHAMMO! Blindinglight, monstrous jolt! My vision clears and I see cracks and stars in the canopy. Engines at 25%, nearly everything else gone, autorepair out. Minimal response to the stick.

Punch out, Blair! Eject! Eject! Eject...Shit! No dice! I'm coming, Angel!

Splat! Splat! Splat!

Huh?

Sensors were out, so I scanned visually. Whoa, three T-bolts were drifting helplessly! What--

"Are you OK, sir?" The comm was breaking up, but I could just discern a fuzzy outline. Catnap! Yaaay!

"How you doing, old buddy?" Vagabond! Yaaay!

"Saved your ass again, eh, Ace?" Maniac! Er, whoopee, whatever.

It took me a moment to find my voice. "Thanks, g-guys. I owe you big time. Uh, was that the last of them?"

Vagabond came on the comm. "Yeah. The rest are heading back. The capships are OK." He lowered his voice. "The Unionists lost about half their pilots,good buddy. This wasn't much of a victory."

Oh yeah? Well I was still alive. At the moment, that was all the victory I needed.

*

I was last into the barn. Since the frigates' servicing facilities were limited at best, Intrepid was taking their fighters as well as her own. By the time it was my turn, faint wisps of nebula were already enveloping the ship. I'd have to make it on the first pass, or I'd be landing nearly blind. Already shaking badly, I didn't really need any more challenges.

I crossed my fingers and activated the comm. "Need clearance, Intrepid."

A woman's face appeared through the static on my comm display. Young, not bad looking, even cute. What the hell was she wearing on her face? GLASSES?What, she was in a religious cult or something?

"HeyniceworkColonelBearkissImFirstLieutenantVelinaSosa!"

What the hell did she say? "Say again, Intr--"

"Iruntheswitchboardhereandyouarecleartoland!"

What the hell did she say? "Intrepid, say again, pl--" Shit, I was cut off!Well, presumably I'd been cleared. I just hoped she wasn't trying to warn me about anything. The 'cat would barely make it even under the best conditions.

As I wobbled in on final approach, I couldn't help lamenting my recent bad luck with comm officers. This one seemed nice enough, but jeez, what a motormouth!

*

Gingerly, I climbed down the ladder. That last missile hit had thrown me against the side of the cockpit, and now my left shoulder was starting to ache something fierce.

I walked over to where Barr was standing, looking at my fighter and shaking his head. "Y'know, Colonel, the book says a Hellcat won't even fly in that condition, let alone fight."

Jesus, he was right. My poor bird was in worse shape than the Hellcat-R I'd nursed back from Tyr VII. This one would never fly again. Barr looked at me and grinned. "But I guess you never read that book, eh, Bearkiss?"

"'Bearkiss?'" I jumped. Damn, why was Panties always sneaking up behind me?She had walked over from the next bay forward. "I thought your callsign was 'Maverick!' Dammit, will you make up your mind? No wonder that last fight was such a fuck-up!"

She glanced at my Hellcat and stopped dead in her tracks. "Jesus! Now I see why they call you the Heart of the Tiger!" Panties reached up to touch the melted port wingtip, but quickly drew her hand back. Still too hot.

I didn't care. I was exhausted, my shoulder was getting worse, and I still had the shakes. But I wasn't so far gone that I'd forgotten our desperate situation. "C-Colonel, we need some CAP around this t-task force. Lexington isn't d--"

She shook her head wearily. "Our launch field crapped out on us. We'll need at least a day to repair it. If they find us before then, we're cooked." She shrugged. "So I've ordered all flight personnel to sack out...those who are left." She looked at my trembling hands, and the way I was favoring my left shoulder. "That means you, bub."

OK by me. "W-where do I bunk?"

Barr spoke up. "Most of our living quarters were destroyed in the attack, Bearkiss. Until we can make other arrangements, most of us are bunking here."He pointed into the darkened bay. I could just make out several horizontal figures under blankets.

"Super." I stumbled into the bay, grabbed a blanket off the pile, and found myself a spot on the deck. My flight suit, once I struggled out of it, made a decent mat. I went back to my bird and pulled the seat cushion for my head. I lay down carefully on my right side. In seconds, I was asleep and dreaming I was checking into a run-down hotel. The clerk looked like a re-animated corpse.

"Welcome to the Border Worlds Hotel, sir," he said menacingly. Pleasant dreams."

End of Chapter 11

Previews from Chapter 12:

"Er, I've never seen one before. I don't know what to do with it, Colonel."

"Trust me, Velina. It's very...user friendly."

"I knew you'd need a crew chief, handsome, so I made myself...available."

"You really are the Heart of the Tiger, aren't you, sir?"

Chapter 12

I awoke to a fierce pain in my left shoulder. I quickly rolled off my left side, and the pain subsided to a dull ache. My watch said I'd been out for nearly four hours. In that time, the darkened bay had filled up considerably. I noticed that Panties had settled right next to me.

I tried to get back to sleep, but our precarious situation demanded my full attention. Without fighter cover, flying blind through the nebula, the Union task force was acutely vulnerable to surprise attack. I decided to wander forward and check on repairs to the launch field. First, though, I took a few minutes to work the kinks out of my back. Next time I had to sleep on a deck,I vowed to turn off the local grav generator.

I walked out of the bay into the glare of lights and the clamor of men and women at work. My poor Hellcat had been bulldozed into one of the starboard junk piles. Up forward, several Banshees had been spotted for launch, but sporadic flashes from welders and cutting torches further up told me the launch equipment was still under repair. I threaded my way between work parties and machinery to get a closer look.

Along the way, I chanced upon the Gopher ready room and stashed my flight suit and helmet in the adjoining locker area. The way to the nearest head had finally been cleared, so I took the opportunity to clean up and de-beard. Refreshed and feeling human again, I made my way forward. I passed two more dormitory bays, but most forward bays contained fighters in various stages of readiness.

One of the ship's senior engineers was supervising repairs to the launch gear. He noticed my Confed uniform and rank, and stuck out his hand. "Welcome aboard, Colonel. You're Blair, right? I'm Compton Ander, Assistant Engineer."

I shook his hand. "Lieutenant Commander. How are the repairs going?"

He shook his head. "Power surge from the starboard generator fried most of the electronics. We have to cut into inaccessible areas to replace some wiring. The real bottleneck, though, is in the shops. We don't have enough spares for all the electronics modules, so we're having to make our own. It'll be at least another sixteen hours."

Shit. "Look, if you just concentrate on the extreme port side, and only the manual controls, would that cut the repair time?"

He took off his cap and scratched his head. "It would, but you're already down to half flight ops already." He pointed to the piles of scrap along the starboard bulkhead. "This would cut you down by half again. I'd need to get authorization from Colonel Manley or Colonel Farnsworth. They're our senior surviving officers."

It seemed the Unionists were much less hung up on inter-service boundaries than Confed, but were no more willing to act without orders. "Com, a few hours ago I laid my life on the line for these people. You think maybe you can risk your career for them? Without fighter cover, however thin, we're torpedo bait."

It seemed we spoke the same language after all, as a big grin spread over his face. "Well, when you put it that way, sir...Come back in about ten hours."He waved one of his men over.

Better. I headed for the nearest starboard stairway. My stomach, conveniently forgetting its rude treatment of its last meal, was now begging piteously for more. As I recalled from the directory, the ship's galley was two decks below the dorsal surface, under the island. With any luck, it had survived the torp hit that took out the bridge.

Unfortunately, I had to detour around several wrecked sections. The last bypass, marked by a hand-lettered sign, took me far to starboard. There I found a secured hatch guarded by a young but earnest ensign with a photon rifle. He snapped to attention as I approached.

"What's your name, son?"

"Swensen, sir! Benson J.!"

"At ease, Swensen. What's behind the hatch?"

He relaxed a little. "Bodies, sir. Life support is out beyond here, so we're using it as cold storage until we have time to hold services."

Jesus. "Uh, how many?"

He didn't flinch from the question. "Nearly a quarter of the crew, sir. About as many more are down in sick bay. Or in the adjoining compartments." He must have had friends among the casualties, but his voice remained steady.

So many. Compared to the last war, of course, this butcher's bill was nothing. But every one of the people behind that hatch had had dreams like mine, and now they would never come true.

Swensen had been looking at my Confed uniform. "Sir? Sir, is it true that the Heart of the Tiger defected with you?"

I smiled. After all, how could the unimpressive little "Earthworm" be the legendary "Heart of the Tiger?"

"Yes, he did, Ensign. Why?"

"Well, sir, do you think he can stop this war? So that maybe my friends didn't die for nothing?"

Sorry, kid, it's not looking too good right now. "He might." I clapped him on the shoulder. "With your help, and, er, mine, maybe he can pull it off, son. Um, carry on." I left him to his lonely vigil.

*

The galley had survived the recent attack, but not unscathed. The aft bulk-head was scorched and deformed, and just forward of it, severed structural beams hung from the next deck up. Damaged tables and chairs had been cleared from under the hole and piled next to the bulkhead. There were people eating at other tables, however, so apparently the synthesizers were still working. I headed for the food dispenser.

That's when I noticed the petite dark-haired woman working intently at a nearby table. She was wearing glasses, which meant that either there were two cult members aboard, or this was the comm officer who had cleared me for landing. What was her name again? Velveeta? I decided to talk with her before getting my grub; I wanted to be on good terms with this ship's comm officers.

She was so intent on her work--making pencil notations on a thick paper(!) printout--that she didn't look up, even when I was right behind her. I leaned over to read her name tag--Sosa--and peek down the front of her uniform--shit,only so-so, if that.

I noisily pulled out a chair and sat down facing her, but she only muttered absently, "Pullupachair," and kept on with her work.

Enough. I didn't like being ignored by junior officers. I took an empty food bag from her tray, blew it up, and popped it nearly under her nose.

POW!

"Eek!" She nearly jumped out of her chair. "Oh! SorrysirbutIwasconcentrat--"

I put a finger over her lips. Then I pointed at her. "Sixty kps." I pointed at myself. "Thirty kps. Please adjust accordingly, Lieutenant SoSo."

"Yessir! I mean, yes, sir. And it's Sosa, Colonel Bearkiss. Velina."

"Whatever. And it's Blair, not Bearkiss. What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm trying to decrypt this data your captain brought us. But look at me, I-I'm stuck in the stone age. The ship's computers are all down, so I've gotta resort to prehistoric tools!" She indicated the paper and her pencils.

"By hand?" I was incredulous. "You must be a very good cryptanalyst!"

"Um, I don't mean to brag, sir, but I'm...I'm definitely one of the best."

Oh, really? If you're so damned smart, SoSo, why are you working by hand?

"But it's still slow going, sir. And then I have to balance my checkbook, send a trans to Mom, pay some bills, and..." She blushed. "...and other stuff."

"Er, don't you have a portable computer?"

She reached into her hip pocket and brought out a palmtop computer bearing the Dimtel logo. "I tried to do it on my Centium PZ, but the darn Dimensions 95 operating system keeps crashing!" She dropped it on the paper in disgust.

I reached into my breast pocket. "Why don't you try my McPuter Hypermedia?" I asked, placing said computer on the table in front of her.

She regarded it with a mixture of fascination and uncertainty. "Er, I've never seen one before. I don't know what to do with it, Colonel."

"Trust me, Velina," I reassured her. "It's very...user friendly. Here, just insert Captain Eisen's data cartridge and push the button."

"Button?" She found the button marked PUSH ME and tentatively touched it with her index finger. The McPuter responded with a single musical chord.

Suddenly we were sitting on a grassy hill, a light breeze blowing through our hair. Beethoven's 6th Symphony was playing softly in the background, as lambs frolicked in a meadow below us. In letters of fire against the deep blue sky,the computer displayed its results:

READING DATA CARTRIDGE

DECRYPTING

DECRYPTED DATA STORED

BILLS PAID

TRANS SENT TO MOM

CHECKBOOK BALANCED - MANUAL ERROR CORRECTED

PLOWBOY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTION RENEWED

Quickly she pushed the button marked END, and we were back in the galley. SoSo was blushing again, but she seemed impressed by the demonstration. She looked at her PZ, then at my Mc, and tossed the PZ into the disposal. Holding the Mc out to me, she said, "Thank you, Colonel. May I borrow it again some time?"

"Keep it. They're so cheap, I bought two." I showed her the second one in my pocket.

"I owe you one, sir." She stood up and disposed of the printout, then gathered the rest of her stuff together. "ExcusemesirbutIhavetogetthisdatatoCIC!" SoSo hurried off while I was still trying to figure out what she'd just said.

*

Half way through my meal, I lost my appetite. The food synthesizers might be working, technically, but the "food" being dispensed was hardly appetizing. I had sampled small portions of several dishes, and they all tasted like moldy cardboard. The barbecue selections were especially bad, which meant Captain Eisen would probably be taking in the waistline on his uniforms again.

I considered using the galley's manual cooking facilities, but others who had tried were no happier with the results. Apparently the synthetic raw materials were as bad as the synthetic finished products. The number of half-full trays being dumped in the recycler was mute evidence of the crew's dissatisfaction.

There were, however, two exceptions. At the next table, I spotted a couple going at their food, and each other, with unconcealed relish. I recognized the pilot, Archie, who had been trapped under the weapons loader. The woman was obviously his wife or fiancee. They would feed tidbits of food to each other,then kiss messily and giggle. Others conspicuously avoided the pair, but I found them touching. They reminded me of Angel and me when we were first falling in love. I wondered if they played the same sex games.

I sighed. No time for nostalgia, Blair. You have work to do. I logged off the GGG, where I'd been reading up on the Union Militia. As I stood up to leave, I noticed Maniac standing near the aft bulkhead. He seemed unusually thoughtful, even somber.

He heard me coming, and pointed upward. "The bridge used to be up there, Ace. Most of the berths were farther forward."

I followed his gaze. Damage control parties had sealed off the hole two decks up; only the emergency force fields had saved the ship's atmosphere during the battle. "Poor bastards." Ensign Swensen certainly wasn't guarding any bridge personnel. They'd either been vaporized or blown into space.

Maniac shook his head. "Right now this tub's being held together with scotch tape and glue. I dunno. This side we've picked to be on? It has a long hard road ahead." He brightened a bit. "Or, in your case, maybe a SHORT road, eh?"

Tapeworm. Nevertheless, I tried to reassure him. "We'll make it, Maniac. All we have to do is escape this system and we can refit at a dockyard."

"Escape? Are you kidding? Nothing's working, Ace!" Maniac put both hands behind his waist and tried to bend backwards a little. "Ow! We don't even have decent beds on this flying wreck! Mmph! Damn, I'm stiff all over."

"Well, Maniac, I guess the price of freedom is eternal backache. Heh heh."

"Ha ha, very funny." He continued to work the kinks out of his back.

"Say, Maniac, I was wondering: why did you defect in the first place?"

He hesitated a moment before replying. "I, uh, lost my head and made another pass at Doctor Crusher."

"Disch? Oh, that time in Flight Control, right? What did she do?"

"She put me down for a physical. Ace, I'd been in her clutches once already." He shuddered with the memory. "I didn't think I'd escape with all my body parts a second time. I went to Captain Gant, but he wouldn't countermand the order. I had no choice. I had to split!"

I chuckled to myself. Yeah, Maniac probably made the right decision. Disch once told me there were over fifty ways a medic could maim a patient and make it look like an accident.

"How about you, Ace? Why'd you defect?"

"Oh, uh, I found out Gant was planning to kill me--you know, on that last mission. I decided to get out while I still could."

Maniac had finished his impromptu contortions. "Whoa, no wonder you rigged his john! Well, for better or worse, we made our choice. At least I'll move up the promotion list faster. The Militia's a lot smaller than Confed."

"Oh, didn't I tell you, Maniac? Defectors' date-of-rank is reset to the day they join the Militia. You and I are starting at the bottom of the list."

Maniac was incredulous. "You gotta be shittin' me! Jesus, I volunteer to help these losers out of the goodness of my heart, and this is the thanks I get? Shit! You got any more good news for me Ace?"

"Cheer up, Maniac. At least the food is better in the Militia. I recommend the barbecue menu."

That did cheer him up. "Hey, thanks, Ace! I'll try it. I love barbecue."

*

All that talk about barbecue reminded me that I hadn't seen Captain Eisen since he'd disappeared with Hulk and Panties. After asking about a dozen crewmen--the ship's AI wasn't functioning, of course--I finally located him in the Control Bay. He was leaning wearily against a bulkhead, watching Panties and Hulk arguing in front of the holodisplay.

Panties was trying to keep her cool, but the strain was obvious. "I say we just cut our losses and pull back. This jump point is the quickest way out of this system."

Hulk was adamant. "Jump point too obvious. Hulk say, hurt Lexington. Hurt Confed. Hurt! Hurt!"

The Captain saw me and jerked a thumb at the two fliers. In response, I just rolled my eyes. Eisen finally intervened.

"Look, you too, we don't have time--"

Panties interrupted him. Through clenched teeth, she said, "Captain Eisen,you've been a great help so far, but we're running this ship, OK?"

"Yeah," agreed Hulk. He turned back to Panties. "Panties not understand situation--"

Eisen tried again. "I'm sorry, but--"

This time Panties lost it. "For the last time, butt out, renegade!"

"Yeah, butt out!"

"Shut up, Hulk! I'll tell him to butt out!"

"Panties not boss of Hulk!"

"That does it!" Panties swarmed all over poor Hulk, and they went down in a tangle of flailing arms and legs. She grabbed him by the ears and started pounding his head on the deck. Hulk got two hands on her throat and squeezed.

Captain Eisen looked at me and sighed.

I glanced around the compartment. Aha! "Er, Captain, with your permission?"He saw what I was looking at, and nodded.

With much of the automatic firefighting system out of commission, the crew had placed a number of water buckets in vulnerable locations. I took the nearest one and emptied it all over the two antagonists. I was just in time: Panties was starting to turn blue.

The two wet pilots came up sputtering and coughing. Hulk looked at himself and observed, "Hulk wet. How Hulk get wet?" Panties, also sopping wet, merely gasped for breath and glared at me.

I tried to take a reasonable tone. "Look, you two, it's obvious this ship needs a captain. I suggest Captain Eisen take over."

"WHAT?" screeched Panties. "Why the hell does this over-rated, overweight,over-the-hill DEFECTOR get to be captain?"

"Yeah!" agreed Hulk. "What she said!"

If I had ever had any doubts about Captain Eisen's qualifications for command, they would have been dispelled for good by what he did next. He drew himself up to his full height and even managed to pull in his tummy a centimeter or two. In his most dignified tone, he replied, "Because, unlike some others in this compartment, I have a military haircut!"

Well, there was no arguing with that. Panties and Hulk looked at each other,then nodded reluctantly.

"Thank you for your vote of confidence." Captain Eisen was always gracious in victory. "Now we also need a commander for the ship's fighter wing. I choose Colonel Blair, here."

Panties, who had been wringing out her hair, angrily responded, "WHAT? Why does Colonel Barfbag get to be--"

I looked significantly at the fire bucket hanging on the bulkhead next to her.

She saw where I was looking and stopped in mid-rant. "OK, OK!" She shoved past me toward the exit, muttering all the way. "Damn, damn, damn!"

Hulk suddenly clapped a hand to the back of his head. "Ouch!"

*

Gee, only my second day with the Union, and already I was Wing Commander again. I had a vision of myself becoming a general in a week, space marshall in another month. Eat your heart out, Maniac!

I came back to reality. Some Wing Commander! I didn't even have a fighter of my own! I could use another Hellcat temporarily, but they'd all be down for lack of spares after another mission or two. There was much commonality among humanity's fighter craft, of course, but sooner or later we'd need a part the Intrepid techs just didn't have and couldn't make.

No, there was no way around it. If I expected to keep my new job, I'd have to qualify on at least one Union fighter, preferably all three. I decided to go find a good crew chief first. I had learned from Rachel that techs knew things not found in any manual.

Down on the flight deck, I found Lt. Tennant and asked her about crew chief availability. She produced a smudged, handwritten list of pilot/tech/fighter assignments. Intrepid was short a number of fighters and pilots, so there were quite a few techs available.

Nearly half the names were female. Remembering that several of the techs onboard were quite attractive, I raised my eyes to Heaven. Oh, God, if you could just give me a crew chief who's brilliant and sweet and understanding, and...and REALLY cute, like Rachel, I'd be ever so grateful, really.

My prayer was answered by an incredibly sexy female voice behind me. "I knew you'd need a crew chief, handsome, so I made myself...available."

THANK YOU, GOD! I assumed a slightly bored expression, turning with elaborate nonchalance to face her. "Blair. Chris B--Yikes!"

It was the scarecrow who'd been driving the weapons loader! In my state of shock, I could only receive disjointed impressions: Buck teeth! Filthy fatigues! Scrawny figure! Freckles! Pimples, for God's sake! About the only thing this creature had in common with Rachel was the blonde hair and the floppy cap. And that incredibly sexy voice.

Ignoring my discomfiture, she walked right up to me. "I'm Chief Tech Zelda Morgenstern. I'll check you out on a simulator first, and then you can try the real thing, studmuffin." She reached up to touch my cheek.

I hastily backed up a step. "Uh, look, Chief, there's some mistake here. You see, uh, I've already picked out another--"

The hurt in her eyes was more than I could bear. She was too proud to cry, but I knew this was merely the latest in a list of rejections as long as her life. Shit! Who was I to judge this tech by her looks, anyway? Wasn't she the one who'd driven that missile loader and killed the service bay fire while we were all standing around helplessly?

As she started to turn away, I grabbed her shoulder. "OK, OK, Chief! I just want to know one thing. Are you good?"

Despite her pain, she stood proud. "I'm the best you'll ever see, Colonel!"

Shit again! Wrong answer! "OK, Chief. Will you...will you..." I couldn't say it. Come on, Blair, you're the Heart of the Tiger! Spit it out! "Zelda, will you be my crew chief?" I half hoped she was too offended to accept.

"Will I?" She leaped into my arms, slamming me back against the bulkhead."You won't regret this, snookums!"

Snookums? "I already regret it!"

As she dragged me to the simulator room, I turned my gaze upward. Thanks a lot, God! You want to play games? OK, the next church I fly over is lasertoast!

*

The closest flight simulators were near Wombat Squadron's ready room. Several pilots were engaged in exercises, but at least one of each type was still free.

I walked over to the Vindicator simulator. "What do you think, Chief? Near the end of the war, I mostly flew Thunderbolts for Confed. Maybe a Vindicator would be a good fighter to start on."

She shook her head vigorously. "Uh-uh. With your hell-for-leather style, you want a Banshee, no question about it. You can wring more out of a ship than any pilot I ever saw. You've earned the Union's best."

"How do you know--"

She looked disappointed. "You think I picked you at random? You think I haven't done my homework? Trust me, flyboy, I know your style better than you do. Now get into that Banshee cockpit!"

For the next hour or so, Zelda went over the controls with me. I ran through a series of increasingly complex exercises to familiarize myself with each instrument. Fortunately, the Banshee had a lot in common with other fighters I had flown, except that it was considerably simpler.

"Say, Chief, how come this cockpit is missing so many backup system indicators and controls? Are they automated on the Banshee?"

She shook her head. "No, we just don't have 'em." Seeing my look of dismay,Zelda quickly explained. "Look, we're from frontier planets, city boy. We have no time for all the fancy training you get on the 'civilized' worlds. We have fewer advanced engineers, so they design fewer ship types and leave off the bells and whistles. We don't have huge training facilities, so we build simple ships that take less know-how to fly and maintain. We save mass by eliminating redundant systems and apply it to engines, weapons, shields, and armor. Credit for credit, in the last war we put up more fighters against the Kilrathi than the rest of Confed."

"And suffered higher loss rates," I reminded her.

"OK, hotshot! But when the chips were down, our ships were always there! Too often, Confed's weren't! Besides, when was the last time you qualified on anew fighter type in under a week? Hmm? You'll be flying the Banshee like an ace by this time tomorrow!"

I was still skeptical, but Zelda's vehemence had half-convinced me. I was eager to try the flight simulations.

Zelda shut me up in the simulator and took a station in the control booth. We started out on elementary launches and landings. I botched the first few, of course, but gradually I got used to the new feel of the controls. The Banshee was indeed a lively ship, instantly responsive to my will. I scored my first four-oh on the sixth landing, and went on to vacubatics.

Oh, ow! This thing could fly rings around any other fighter in space! It was like the ship was a part of me, an extension of my own body. I quickly ran through the simpler maneuvers and jumped right into complex evasive flying. Purposely I pushed the envelope, exploring the ship's performance limits. Then I put on a vacubatic display that had even Zelda whistling with appreciation. Hah! On to the combat exercises!

That's when I suffered my first setback. Combat maneuvering was fine; I easily dodged simulated missile fire and got on the tail of the AI Thunderbolt. Zelda kept coaching me to fire an IR up his ass, but to me, there's no kill like a guns kill. I lined up my lasers and let 'er rip. And rip. And rip. I scored hit after hit, but the target's shields stubbornly stayed up. After what seemed like forever, it finally succumbed.

I called a time out. "Zelda, these popguns won't do. I need something with more punch."

"Sorry, love, the Banshee's not designed for heavier main armament. Just use your lasers on light fighters and take the heavies with missiles."

"No way." I expected we'd be badly outnumbered by Confed in nearly every encounter of this undeclared conflict. My experience against the Kilrathi told me that my missiles would run out all too quickly. "How about swapping in a pair of tachyon guns, Chief?" I just LOVED tachyon guns!

She laughed. "Sorry, babe, but we can't switch guns without redesigning the fighter! One of the drawbacks of the simple approach, you know. But the Banshee can mount a leech cannon and a scattergun in the ventral boom. Let me add them to your simulated bird."

We tried the first combat sim again with the secondary armament added. The Banshee was noticeably sluggish from the extra mass, but still easily out-maneuvered the simulated target.

I tried the two weapons in turn. The scattergun was fabulous. It was like having five ion cannons, but it ate up little more power than one. At long range the dispersal improved the chances of a hit; at short range multiple hits delivered devastating damage. Its only drawback was its wimpy Ploop! Ploop!sound.

The leech cannon was amazing. I had difficulty aiming at first, but when I closed in, it took my target down in just a few shots. Damn, leech technology had come a long way since the War! And I just LOVED the weapon's hearty CHUGCHUG CHUG!

"Chief, give me the scattergun, leech cannon, and eight leech missiles. Dump the lasers to offset the mass of the secondary weapons. Now let's go kick some ass!"

Over the next six hours, I ran through every combat simulation in the memory banks, and a few new ones Zelda made up on the spot. I flew alone and with simulated wingmen, against Confed, pirate, and Union types, and on every kind of mission from recon to fleet attack. Twice we broke for food and, er, relief expeditions. During the breaks, Zelda critiqued earlier exercises and offered helpful tidbits of Banshee lore. She even accompanied me to the head and yelled her advice through the door!

In the final series of simulations, I flew with and against some of the other live pilots in the simulator room. They taught me things about the Banshee that no non-flyer, not even Zelda, could teach, and I quickly matched, then surpassed their skill level. After I defeated two of them single-handed,Zelda called a halt.

I popped the simulator and found Zelda standing next to it, beaming. "I think we've created a monster here! Get out of there before you melt it, hotshot!"

I climbed wearily out of the simulator. My shoulder was acting up again, but it was a small price to pay for such thorough training. "Zelda, you are probably the best flight instructor I've ever had. Thanks a--"

Without warning, she pounced on me again, and I nearly fell back into the simulator. She gave me a big wet kiss on the lips. "You're welcome, honey!"

"Hey, Ace! Where'd you get the rag doll? Haw haw!"

Oh no, no! Maniac! Desperately, I pried Zelda off and pushed her behind me. I tasted blood where one of Zelda's buck teeth had nicked my upper lip, but I didn't dare wipe it.

"Oops, my mistake, Ace! It's your...your flight instructor! No, no, let's get a good look at her!" He reached behind me and pulled Zelda out into the open. She made no effort to resist.

Maniac looked her up and down and shook his head. "Hmm, not up to your usual standards, Ace." He made a face. "It so happens I've been practicing, too. Meet MY instructor, Lieutenant Mourne." He indicated a knockout auburn-haired beauty at his side. She had an Avenger badge on her uniform.

I was furious. Dammit, after all these years, why did this idiot still get my goat? I wanted to defend Zelda, yet if I made a fuss, she might interpret it as requited love and take even greater liberties with me. Funny, though, she was acting more like a detached observer than a wronged damsel.

Then I had an idea.

I smiled, which caught Maniac off guard. I strolled over and whispered into his ear. "Apologize to the the nice lady, TODD, or you'll be on a first name basis with your girlfriend, here."

He stepped back, aghast. "You wouldn't!" he exclaimed.

I just smiled back.

OK, OK!" He turned to Zelda, who waited impassively. "Chief, I am really FUCKING sorry I said anything to FUCKING offend you!" He glared at me."HAPPY, pygmy?"

Zelda winked at me. "Apology accepted, Major." Suddenly she grabbed Maniac by the collar and dragged him down far enough to plant a wet kiss on his cheek.

As the onlookers applauded, Maniac recoiled and vigorously rubbed his cheek with his sleeve. "Why you lousy b--"

Lt. Mourne took his arm. Eyes half closed, she cooed, "Mmm, I like a guy who's man enough to admit when he's wrong, big boy."

"Uh, you do? Say, September, what do you say we find a quiet place and, uh,discuss torpedo tactics?" Lt. Mourne nodded, and they strolled off arm in arm.

One of the techs in the sim control booth opened the door and called to me."Colonel Blair, Captain Eisen wants you in CIC."

Uh-oh. Here we go. "Uh, Zelda, CIC is...?"

"Midships, centerline, two decks down. I have a feeling I'd better prep a Banshee for you, sweetie!"

"Uh, good idea." I still didn't like the 'sweetie' bit. "Scattergun, leech--"

"--cannon, and eight leeches. Got it." She headed for the maintenance bays.

I watched her leave. As a tech, Zelda was a treasure, but her lovestruck attitude really got on my nerves. If only she weren't so...so... Maybe if I got a paper bag...

*

I found CIC without too much trouble. Captain Eisen was slumped in a chair in front of the main display. He was sound asleep. The only other occupants were two male junior officers, both engrossed in their consoles. I decided not to bother them.

The Unionists had taken down the partition between CIC and the Chart Room to make more space. I could see SoSo working over in the comm alcove. Nearby,facing another display, a young female second lieutenant stood at a makeshift helm control.

Reluctant to disturb the Captain, I wandered over to the helm instead. The display showed the task force's current status: deep in the nebula and headed toward the Corinth jump point at half speed. There was no sign of Confeds.

The lieutenant was standing stiffly erect, right hand on the helm control, left hand behind her back, eyes locked on the display. I checked her name tag.

"At ease, Lieutenant Pilotte. What's your first name?"

She relaxed a bit. "Skye, sir." She had just the faintest French accent, and my Angel's face flashed in front of me momentarily.

"Were you the one who evaded those two torpedoes in the last attack, Skye?"

"Yes sir! But, er, Captain Eisen had the conn." Aha. That turn was vintage Eisen, all right.

"Say, that's an ingenious helm control, Skye. Where did you get it?"

"That's my 'Battlecruiser 4000 AD' joystick, sir!" She smiled proudly. "It's state-of-the-art, with multiple programmable buttons and sliders, which makes it perfect for--"

"Holy shit! That game's finally out? Hot damn, I've waited almost thirty--"

She shook her head. "No, sir, it's been delayed again, so they released the joystick first. But I got an empty game box and another demo with it!"

"Er, yeah. Carry on, Lieutenant." Shit! Shit! Shit!

Now that I was feeling depressed, I had no compunctions about waking up the Captain. After a few seconds of increasingly insistent shaking, he started to come around. "Oh, not again, Mary D--Huh? Oh, Colonel! I was just, er,resting my eyes." He stood up and adjusted his uniform.

Ah, just like the good old days. "Happy to see you back where you belong,Captain," I said, smiling.

Confused, he looked at the chair before he realized what I meant. "Oh! Uh,thank you. It's good to be back, er, in the saddle... Ahem! To business,Colonel. We're in no shape for another fight, so we're getting out of this system as fast as we can, along with our escort frigates BWS Ewok, Tie, and THX. Er, the Union financed their construction with funds from Lu--"

"I'm familiar with them, sir. I own some of their stock. They have an excellent employee stock purchase plan."

Captain Eisen looked surprised. "You've worked for them?"

Oops! Think fast, Blair! "Er, no, I didn't. I, er, read that, er, on the GGG someplace. Yeah, that's it. The GGG." Whew!

"Oh. Well, anyway, we'll be capable of restricted flight operations in less than an hour. Now we have several ways out of this system..." He brought up the Silenos system on the display and highlighted nearby jump points. "...but we don't know which ones are being guarded by Confed. We'll have only one shot at it, because we can't make better than half speed. I want your fighters to check out these routes and report any Confed activity. Avoid a fight if you can. Stealth is still our best hope."

I snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, sir! Um, sir, now that you've got the ship in order, shouldn't you get some-- Sir? Sir?" The Captain's head had sagged onto his chest and his eyes were closed. Quickly I ran around the table and gently lowered him into the chair.

I yawned involuntarily. Damn, now I was getting sleepy!

*

I passed the word for Panties, Hulk, Freedom Flight, and all of Wombat Squadron to meet me in the Wombat ready room. Now that I could fly—theoretically--one Union fighter, I figured I finally had enough moral authority to take over my wing. From Zelda, I had learned that Intrepid had four squadrons aboard: two Banshee (Gopher, Wombat), one Vindicator (Turkey), and one Avenger (Skunk).Both Wombat and Skunk Squadrons had lost their commanders, and all four had suffered heavy pilot and equipment losses.

Most of the ship's internal communications were still out, but word quickly spread that combat ops were imminent. When everyone was assembled, I stood up and addressed the group.

"I'm Colonel Christopher Blair, the new Wing Commander. My callsign is Earthworm."

I saw dismay on some faces. A couple of pilots looked at each other and silently mouthed "Earthworm?" Hulk sat impassively. Panties just glared.

"Hulk will keep Turkey Squadron. Panties will remain in command of Gopher Squadron. In addition, she'll act as my deputy."

"Hey, Ace! I thought--"

"Major Marshall will command Skunk Squadron. Maniac, I expect you to earn your Avenger badge as quickly as possible, OK? Panties, you'll assist Maniac with initial flight operations." Maniac grinned and waved at her. Panties gave him the finger.

"Vagabond? Catseye? How's your training coming?"

"Ready for my Banshee solo, good buddy."

"Ready on my Avenger solo, sir. And it's CatSCRATCH, sir."

"Whatever. Lt. Homes?"

"Ready to solo a Vindicator, sir. But my shuttle training didn't prepare me for combat."

"I'll give you as much time as I can, Churlokk, but we need combat pilots desperately. Hulk, will you help him out?"

He nodded. "Hulk teach Homes to hurt! Hurt! Hur--"

"Yes, thank you, Hulk. OK, to operations. Gopher Squadron has the CAP."Panties groaned, but said nothing more. "Skunk Squadron will be in reserve. Hulk, Turkey Squadron will patrol these three routes." I indicated them on the ready room display. "Wombat Squadron will take these three. Fly in pairs,stay passive, report any Confed activity, but do not, I repeat, DO NOT engage unless it's unavoidable." I ignored the moaning from my pilots.

Now the moment of truth. "I'll double as Wombat Leader, and I'll be patrolling the Corinth route." Shocked silence. "Who wants to fly on my wing?"

The five healthy pilots of Wombat Squadron looked at each other uneasily. Finally, the tall one with the depilated head stood up.

I checked his name tag. "Yes, Moose? Say, weren't you in the sim room awhile ago?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I was going over the flight recs from your last two missions. That tractor beam stunt? Those three T-bolts?" He glanced at his colleagues. "I'd kinda like to see what you can do in a REAL fighter, sir."

"Bring it back in one piece, I hope." I smiled. "OK, any questions? No?Dismissed! Wombats, let's huddle."

*

Nervously, I ran through pre-flight on my new Banshee. I had done it several times in the simulator, of course, but this time it was for real. Zelda was standing on the ladder, watching. To her credit, she offered no comments, even when I seemed unsure of myself.

When I finished, I looked over at her. "Not bad," she answered. "You'll do better when you're not so self-conscious about it." She looked me right in the eye. "You're the best I've ever seen, Christopher Blair! You let those Confeds know it!" A quick kiss and she was gone.

As I lowered the canopy, I gingerly touched the new cut on my lip. Despite all her annoying traits, I wanted to make that woman proud of me. Then I laughed. Me, a grizzled veteran nearing forty, sucking up to a homely kid barely out of her teens!

Flight operations proceeded at a snail's pace, but finally it was my turn to launch. I tried to take Zelda's advice and lose myself in the myriad details of flight. Despite a couple of hiccups from the jury-rigged field, my launch was creditably smooth. Moose formed on my wing without comment, and we headed for our first nav point.

*

So far, it was just like being in the simulator. The real Banshee was, if anything, even more responsive. I wondered if Zelda had tweaked it for me.

We were flying passive. Since Confed was doing the searching, we counted on picking up their active emissions before they could detect us. Unfortunately,the nebula was playing holy hell with our sensors. Our margin of safety was considerably less than it would be in empty space.

"Earthworm, I'm getting a twitch to port. Looks like a couple of fighters."

"Got it. Keep steady, Moose. We need a definite make on these guys."

"Firming up. Classify as Arrows. Three...four of them. They'll have us in a second, Earthworm!"

We turned away and went to full speed. Presently the signals began to fade. One thing was sure: the Corinth route was closed to our task f--

Shit! Active signals right on top of us! T-bolts! Those Arrows must have detected us after all and vectored in the Thunderbolts! They went active when we'd be too close to escape!

"Go active, Moose!" Yeah, there they are, less than 10,000 klicks ahead.

"Enemy spotted, Colonel."

"Break and attack, Moose! Take Bandit 3!"

"Ahhh-ffirmative, Colonel." Moose was inhumanly calm.

Gotta wrap this up fast, Blair! Those Arrows will be back! No time to taunt, barely time to lock. Launch! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Two in bound! Burner! Wait...jink! Whoopwhoo-- Missed! What a thoroughbred my Banshee is! Burner off! Turn! Bandit 1 slipped his missile, but I'm coming up on Bandit 2...too fast! Remember the Banshee's speed, Blair! Adjust, locking... Bam! Watch the rear turret! Locked! Launch! He decoys...Splat!

Turn, Blair! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Burner! Decoy! Whoop! Decoy! Silence! Burner off! Turn! Shit, head on! No time for lock! Fire! CHUG CHUG CHUG!A hit! Now dance away from his return fire... He's past! Turn like hell,you beautiful Banshee!

I'm on his tail, matching speed! Save missiles. CHUG CHUG CHUG! More hits! Hurry, Blair, Arrows approaching! Damn, this guy's jinking too much and my leech cannon is eating up power! Shift power from shields! CHUG CHUG CHUG!

Break off! The T-Bolt's down to ninety kps; he's no threat, let him limp home if he can! More power to shields. "Moose, break off, Arrow on your tail! "Shit, Moose is trying to finish off his man with lasers! He must have hit him with at least one IR already, but the heavy fighter is still kicking!

Two Arrows coming at me! Leech locking on one! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Hold steady, Blair, you gotta launch at close range...Launch! Decoy! Turn! Splat! Yahoo!

"Need assistance, sir!" Shit, Moose is in trouble! He's finally broken off from his cripple, but two missiles are chasing him! Decoys blossom from his tail, one loses lock, the other might miss...BLAM! Shit!

"Status, Moose?" I fling my Banshee in his direction.

"Half the systems are out!" He's not calm any more.

"Drag 'em my way, Moose!" Bam! Bam! Shit, Arrow on my tail! His armament isn't much stronger than mine, but it's nibbling away at my shields. "Moose,you take my guy, I'll take your two!"

Here he comes! Bam! Bam! Locking on the lead Arrow, pray Moose is locking my tormentor. Bam! Aft shield failing! Whoop! Whoop! Missiles from ahead and behind! Drop decoys like there's no tomorrow! Launch! Turn! WHAMMO! A blinding light, violent jolt! Check systems! Front shields down, armor nearly gone, no damage! Tough bird, the Banshee!

BLAM! Moose's missile hits! The Arrow's limping away. My target dodged his missile, but he doesn't realize how tight the Banshee can turn. I'm on his tail, locking another leech. He's using his burner furiously, which restricts his maneuverability. I can cut the corner and stay close, but he's making it very hard for his pal to catch up.

I take my time, close in, and launch! Damn! The nimble Arrow slips lock yet again! Still time and fuel enough, close in to point blank range... locked...launch! Splat! Hah!

I killed burner and took stock. The fourth Arrow, now facing two-to-one odds,was running. Moose was damaged, and autorepair could only handle part of it. I was OK, but my forward armor was nearly gone, I'd used up much of my fuel on burner, and I was low on missiles.

I lay in an indirect route back to the task force. We'd accomplished our mission: this route was definitely too hot.

*

Whew, even the battered Intrepid looked good right now. Except that damned SoSo was probably handling clearances. I closed my eyes to relax thoroughly,then steeled myself for a supreme effort.

Ready. Go, Blair! "NeedclearanceIntrepid!"

Yeah, it was SoSo all right. "WelcomebackColonel--"

"--Goodtobeback--"

"--goodmissionsir--"

"--thankyou--"

"--you'recleared!"

"--landingnow!" Hah! I even signed off a microsecond before she did!

Whew! I had the adrenaline shakes again, just like after combat! Jeez, how did that woman do it?

*

Zelda was waiting for me at the bottom of the ladder. She looked ecstatic.

"Four-oh flying, stud! You and that ship were made for each other!"

I braced myself, but she merely wanted to help me out of the flight suit. I made no objection; I was tired, my shoulder hurt, and I welcomed her help. By the time Moose meandered over from his own battered fighter, Zelda was laying my suit on her weapons loader.

Moose stuck out his hand. "You really are the Heart of the Tiger, aren't you,sir? You won't have any more trouble finding wingmen, I guarantee it!"

I took his hand. "Thanks, Moose. You're not so bad yourself. But Zelda here should get most of the credit. She's one great--oof!" Zelda had pounced on me and was smothering my face in kisses.

"I knew you loved me, Honeyblair!" she gushed.

Ow! Ow! I fought her off and dabbed at my lip. Shit, not again! Where was that first aid kit? Maybe in the bay--

Splash! Suddenly a torrent of water soaked me from head to toe! I spun around, angrily searching-- There! Panties was grinning at me, empty fire bucket in her hand.

"Border World tradition, Earthworm. You get a dunking on your first kill for the Union!"

"Farnsworth, you moron! I made my 'first kill for the Union' on that scramble yesterday!"

She clapped a hand to her forehead. "Doh! How silly of me! Boy, do I feel embarrassed! I'm sooo sorry, Colonel!"

Except she didn't look sorry at all. Panties had just moved up a few places on my payback list.

End of Chapter 12

Previews from Chapter 13:

"Maniac, how did you smuggle all this off the ship?"

"Say, kid, did you know that shoulder's dislocated? Here, let me fix it."

"Zeke, their ship was just packed with surveillance equipment. How is it you remained ignorant of Angel's true mission?"

"Blair! I know that's you, you filthy coward!"

Chapter 13

Lt. Cmdr. Ichabod Queue, Intrepid's only surviving intelligence officer, conducted the debriefings while I scrounged a dry uniform. I rejoined him for the last few sessions.

The news was not good. Every patrol was reporting Confed activity; a few had been forced into combat. One of our Vindicator pilots returned shot up after losing his wingman. Only Hulk's patrol had failed to make contact. They had flown toward the Orestes jump point to the limit of their range without finding any evidence of Confed scouts.

As Hulk and his wingman left the ready room, my Mc finished correlating their report with the others and displayed its results. Queue and I carefully examined the projected Confed dispositions.

Presently, I turned to Queue. "What do you think, Ike? It doesn't look like we have much of a choice."

He nodded reluctantly. "The Orestes route is suspiciously convenient, Colonel,but you're right: until Intrepid and THX are up to full speed, our options are limited." He sighed. "I guess I'd better take this to Captain Eisen."

I checked the ready room display. The launch field was fully operational; with the starboard flight deck finally being cleared, we'd have full launch capacity in a few hours. We had CAP, and additional patrols were being prepared. I was due to fly my next patrol in about ninety minutes. I debated whether to eat or sleep. Sleep won; I wasn't hungry enough to face the food dispensers yet.

Checking the "dormitory" bays' status on the display, I was surprised to find they now contained fighter craft under repair. Looking further, I saw that the ship's maintenance department had improvised some new sleeping quarters. The other Confed pilots and I had been assigned to a former storage hold.

That was good news. My shoulder was aching again; it would feel good to sleep on a real mold-o-matt for a change.

*

The storage hold was on the starboard side, well forward of the galley, and one deck down. The area had received no blast damage, but it had obviously taken a heavy shock: pipes, electronic gear, and other equipment had been shaken loose from their fittings. One of the airtight hatches I passed through had been sprung by the torpedo impact.

The hold itself was poorly lit and narrow. It held about a dozen double-deck bunks, placed wherever there was room. Most of them were already occupied; now that the worst of the damage had been dealt with, people were catching up on their sleep.

Cattail was trying to choose between two equally unpromising upper bunks. Vagabond had found a lower bunk and was sitting on it, looking disgusted. "Nice. Very nice," he muttered.

"Gentlemen," I greeted them. I kept my voice low to avoid disturbing the sleepers.

"Welcome to our so-called sleeping quarters," said Vagabond.

I didn't answer. The lazy drip, drip, drip of a leaking pipe somewhere in the hold had transported me nearly seventeen years into the past, back to my first billet on the old Tiger's Claw. Back then I had bunked with seven other pilots, in a cramped compartment like this one, with a slow drip from an air purifier that maintenance just couldn't seem to fix. I closed my eyes. I had come full circle. Memories washed over me in a cascade of--

Cattail abruptly yanked me back. "You know, Colonel, I thought I'd finally feel useful, here with my own, but instead I just feel like a turncoat. What are we doing here, sir?"

Here? Here where? Oh, right. "Uh, we're doing the same thing, Cattail: trying to stop a war. We can do it just as well here as with Confed—better, maybe. Isn't that right, Vagabond?"

He snorted. "Beats me, good buddy. I was just looking for some action."

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Look, I need some cash, OK? Lexington was dead for me, and I figured the Border Worlders are easy marks--er, no offense, Catscratch."

"None taken, Captain. I've, uh, sworn off cards."

Something wasn't right. "Wait a sec, Vagabond, you always spend every credit you earn--" Then it hit me. "Damn! You've found a woman, haven't you, you old tramp!"

He hesitated, then nodded sheepishly. "OK, OK. A couple of days ago I got a trans from an old...friend. It's a long story, Colonel, but the bottom line is, I didn't marry her when I had the chance, and someone else got her."

"Let me guess: when you, er, changed careers, right?" I had to be circumspect about Vagabond's past in front of Cattail.

He nodded. "Anyway, she's free now, and she's offering me a second chance. Colonel, I'm getting so fed up with war, and death, and wandering--I just want to put down roots, like you. But I need a stake--I can't come back to her empty-handed."

Roots. Yeah, I could sympathize with Vagabond, all right. "I know exactly how you feel, pal. So when the time comes, I'll use whatever influence I have, to help get you a Militia job planetside."

He smiled up at me. "Thanks, good buddy."

I patted Vagabond's shoulder. "I wish you both a--"

"Careful, Ace!" Oh, shit. Maniac! "Don't let your girlfriend catch you with Vagabond, Romeo! Ha ha ha! She'll get jealous!"

Dung beetle. "Maniac, leave Zelda out of--What the hell is that?" I pointed at the footlocker in his hands.

Maniac pretended to notice it for the first time. "Er, this? Uh, just some of my stuff." As he knelt to shove it under one of the bunks, one end slipped out of his hand. It hit hard and burst open, scattering its contents on the deck.

It was full of Playboys.

Maniac quickly started gathering up his precious collection. Curious, I knelt and rummaged through the piles. "Hey, here's a thick one: 'Playmates of the 25th Century.' Look, holovids! 'Playmate Aerobics.' 'Playmate Vid Calendar. 'Whoa!" I held up a small box. "'Miss July Inflatable!' Wow, this I gotta--"

Maniac grabbed it out of my hand. "Gimme that!" He stuck everything back in the footlocker and pushed it under the bunk. Two other lockers were already stashed there.

Vagabond was impressed. "Maniac, how did you smuggle all this off the ship? If anybody had caught you, you'd be in the Lexington's brig right now!"

"Hey, do I look stupid or something? I just took a few at a time, stuffed under my uniform." He pulled his chest zipper down just enough to reveal the corner of a magazine.

"But Major," asked Cattail, "didn't your techs wonder why you were making so many trips to your fighter, sir?"

"Those bozos? They ignored me every chance they got!"

One of the advantages of being an asshole, I guess. "Well, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen--and Maniac--I'm going to get some shut-eye." I headed for the nearest empty bunk.

"Sir!" called Cattail. "Watch out for that ba--"

Whoops!

"--nana peel!"

Wham!

"Eeyyooww!" Oh, shit, it felt like my left shoulder was fractured! Dazed, I tried vainly to scramble to my feet. With Vagabond and Cattail helping, I finally made it.

"Sorry, sir," apologized Cattail. "I should have warned you. Primate made himself a nest up there." He pointed up to a rat's nest of blanket remnants,old cushions, wiring, and other stuff woven among the pipes and conduits.

Reeling with pain, I took a moment to focus. "Primate? Here?"

"Yes, sir. He and Marsupial transferred from that cruiser task force before we got here. Primate was wounded in the torpedo attack. The medics just kicked him out of sick bay and sent him here to recuperate."

Another banana peel fell to the deck, missing me by centimeters.

Vagabond picked it up. "Er, they gave him some bananas, too. Medication, he says."

A new wave of pain hit me. I bit back a scream. "D-dammit, he's not supposed t-t-to get bananas between missions!" Damn, that hurts! "OK, OK, forget him! Which way is the infirmary? Ow! Damn!"

*

I threaded my way among the bunks and cots jamming the corridors around the infirmary, clutching my shoulder in a death grip to avoid jolting it. A number of pharmacist's mates and volunteers were tending the wounded, but when I tried to get them to help me, they just pointed toward the main sick bay.

Despite the increasing agony in my shoulder, I paused outside the door for a moment of heartfelt prayer.

OK, God, I know I shouldn't have asked you for a crew chief like Rachel, and I promise not to waste any of your churches, heh heh. I was just joking. But if you could maybe give me a medic just a little like Lt. Disch, I'd be ever so grateful, really.

I took a deep breath, crossed my (right hand) fingers and stepped inside. Finding no one in reception, I painfully made my way to the examination area. I was about to call out when one of the curtains was suddenly and forcefully pulled open.

"Eeeeek!" The young lady on the examination table screamed shrilly and tried vainly to pull her legs out of the stirrups. Failing that, she attempted instead to cover herself, but was hampered by regen casts on both arms.

I wasn't looking. Standing in front of me was The Medic From Hell.

"Now where the hell did I leave that speculum? Oh! Hi, kid!"

It was a male: fat, gray-haired, with mustache and a gravelly voice, and about as far from Disch as you could get. Already nearly in tears from the pain, I found the disappointment almost more than I could bear.

The medic spit tobacco juice--tobacco juice, for God's sake!--into a tin cup he was carrying. He ignored his patient completely. "I'm Robert Sykes, MD, DDS, PhD. Folks call me 'Forceps.'"

"Blair." Despite the pain, I let go of my shoulder and extended my right hand.

"Pleased ta meetcha, kid." He grabbed my left hand and shook vigorously.

"AARRGGHH!" My vision went red for a second, and I nearly fainted.

Forceps was unfazed. "Say, kid, did you know that shoulder's dislocated? Here, let me fix it." He set his cup down. Taking hold of my left shoulder, Forceps put his right hand on my neck and braced himself.

I panicked. "Wait! Wait! How about a painkil--AARRGGHH!" Through a red veil of agony, I felt the shoulder pop back into place. The pain faded until it was merely unbearable. I noticed Forceps' patient wincing in sympathy, despite her own predicament. My 'treatment' did not bode well for hers.

Forceps was preparing an injection. "We lost a lot of supplies in the attack, Blair. Cyclomorphedrine's reserved for serious patients. Besides, if you feel too good, you'll use your shoulder too soon and aggravate the injury." He put the hypogun to my shoulder and injected the regen cocktail. Then he quickly prepared a sling for my left arm. "There you go, kid. Don't fly for at least a day."

"But it HURTS, dammit!"

Forceps was unsympathetic. "Jesus Christ, kid, you some kinda pussy?" He retrieved his cup and spat into it.

By now the woman had given up on covering herself, and was trying to will herself invisible. To my amazement, she actually seemed to fade out for a second, but it was probably just a pain-induced hallucination.

Forceps snapped his fingers. "Now I remember!" He went to the fridge and took out a durasteel speculum. He grinned at me. "Musta left it there when I got that beer out earlier!" He waved the speculum in the sterilizer field, then went back to his patient. I caught a glimpse of her staring at the speculum with wide eyes before Forceps drew the curtain.

From behind the curtain, I heard another shriek.

"EEEEEE!"

"Ah, don't be such a baby!"

Outside sick bay, clutching my injured shoulder, I raised my eyes again.

Two churches, God! I owe you two fucking churches!

*

I went to the Control Bay and took myself off the flight roster. Despite the pain in my shoulder, I tried to help Panties direct flight operations for a time, but the medication was making me too drowsy to concentrate. Finally, Panties tactfully "suggested" I get some rest. I didn't protest.

After a brief detour to the galley for some more tasteless food, I went back to the storage hold and found myself an empty bunk. Though old, the mold-o-matt conformed to my body reasonably well. With a sigh, I settled on my right side and closed my eyes.

That was a mistake. All the uncertainties and reservations I'd suppressed now returned to torment me. As a presumed traitor, I had forfeited all the honor and respect I'd earned in a lifetime of faithful service. Tolwyn, Paladin, Flint, Rachel...what would they think of me? Worse, I had probably lost my girls and my farm forever. Depression threatened to envelop me.

Then I remembered another time when all had seemed lost. Court-martialed and disgraced, I had been exiled to a backwater post and left to rot. Determined to vindicate myself, I had held on grimly, but the months of monotony finally eroded my will. Then, just when I was ready to give up, I had received a trans from some anonymous kid who still believed in me. My faith rekindled, I had set about preparing for the moment of redemption.

I smiled. I wasn't likely to hear from any kids this time, but I had something else. I fingered my vial of dirt, losing myself in my memories of Zeke's first visit...

*

I had a large kitchen, but with Zeke, the kitchen droid, and myself all working at once, we barely kept out of each other's way. My droid plucked and cut the chicken, refrigerated part of it, and barbecued the rest using my own recipe. I prepared the onion-broccoli casserole and the corn, while Zeke whipped up a salad from greens he found in the fridge.

Zeke helped me set the dining room table, and then we laid out the feast. Since I wasn't a religious man, and none of Zeke's deities had jurisdiction over the dinner table, we skipped grace and dug in.

Zeke was especially fond of my casserole. "Remarkable, Christopher," he commented. "Very tasty. You say none of this is from an animal source?"

"None. The cheese is from genetically engineered soybeans; the sauce comes mainly from descendants of Terran dandelions. I'll give you the recipe, if you like."

"I would be grateful. I am still new at vegetarianism, and my companions have grown tired of my uninspired menus."

I froze in mid-chew. "Companions?"

"Why, yes, Christopher. Did you think I escaped from Kilrah alone?"

"Actually, I'm amazed you got away at all, Thrak--er, Zeke. We've both had miracle escapes over the years, but I thought I had finally nailed you."

Zeke gave me the Kilrathi equivalent of a smile. "Then your Intel is still ignorant of our stealth escape pods? Yes, I had one installed on my personal fighter shortly before your last mission, never thinking I would need it. I hadn't expected your fighter's cloaking capability!"

My droid brought out the bread, fresh from the oven. I offered it to Zeke.

"Thank you, Christopher. Mmm, the aroma is irresistible! Anyway, to continue: from my pod--which you obviously did not detect--I saw you defeat my wingcats, then descend toward the surface. I noted the bulge under your ship and deduced that it was a planet-killer. After that, I thought only of escape."

Zeke passed me the salad and I took another generous helping. He had been too modest about his culinary skills; his creation was delicious.

"Although there were hundreds of ships in orbit that day, it took a very longtime for a corvette to answer my distress beacon. Expecting to die at any second, I followed the frantic reports from our air defense command as they tried to to track you all over the planet--200,000 klicks at least! Tell me,Christopher, why such an intricate bomb run? Was it just evasive flying?"

The answer involved Angel, and I needed a moment to prepare myself. Despite Zeke's sincere wish for peace between us, I found it hard to discuss my beloved with the creature responsible for her death.

"Angel worked out the flight path, taking into account the target location,ground defenses, terrain, and so on. It was, um, a tad indirect."

"Indirect! My friend, Kilrah was only 53,000 klicks in circumference!"

I was reluctant to speak ill of the dead, but Zeke deserved the truth. "Angel had...a fault common among human females: she had no sense of direction."

Perhaps sensing my discomfort, Zeke was tactful. "Such a characteristic could prove...inconvenient at times."

"Don't get me started!" I thought of that time on Vespus when I fell asleep while Angel was driving. I woke up to find us on the third moon! Angel just stared straight ahead and said, through clenched teeth, "Not one fuckeeng word, Chrees, or you weel be humpeeng your hand for ze rest of our leave!"

I noticed Zeke's glass was empty. "More orange juice, Zeke? Or would you like to try prune juice? Some humans call it a true warrior's drink."

He made a face and put a paw on his stomach. "I have tried it before. It did not agree with me." He looked thoughtful as he poured OJ. "Then Angel's, er,'gift' probably explains the mystery of her capture. The responsible officer swore that he had taken them when they stopped to ask directions. It was so improbable that I always suspected he was lying, but now..."

I nodded. "Angel must have been driving. Male humans, of course, would rather die than ask." I finished my chicken--except for a few morsels for the girls--and licked my fingers. "Zeke, their ship was just packed with surveillance equipment. How is it you remained ignorant of Angel's true mission?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Er, they had an extremely elaborate cover story prepared, Christopher. We were unable to penetrate it." Zeke took an ear of corn and pretended to be absorbed in devouring it.

"Cover story?"

"Uh, yes." He avoided my eyes. "They, er, said they were making a National Geographic documentary. Colonel Devereaux very nearly got away with a fine and a warning."

Yeah, that fit. Zeke's kind were brave and skillful warriors, but the dumbest rutabaga in my garden had more brains than the average Kilrathi. The wonder wasn't that Angel had deceived the cats, but that they had caught her in the first place...

*

Thud!

I awoke with a start. What the--

"Ow! Goddamned banana peel!" I stared bleary-eyed at Lt. Homes, who was rubbing his hindquarters and cursing in the direction of Primate's nest. There was no answer. Primate was either gone or keeping mum.

I checked my watch. Wow, I had slept almost six hours! Reluctantly, I swung my feet down and lurched out of bed. My shoulder was feeling much better, and I had work to do.

I interrupted Churlokk's inspired ranting and offered him my bunk, which he gratefully accepted. He fell asleep almost instantly. Poor Homes had been flying simulators and fighters almost non-stop, in a crash effort to earn that new Vindicator badge now displayed proudly on his uniform. He'd done well to qualify on fighters so quickly, but he was still far from being a combat pilot.

As I turned to go, I noticed my Confed uniform hanging neatly by my bunk. It had been cleaned and pressed. Someone had applied a Union Militia patch to the right shoulder, and a Banshee flight badge over the left breast pocket.

Damn, it had to be Zelda. That lovestruck kid just couldn't do enough for me. If only she weren't so...so... I sighed and put on the clean uniform. Not to please Zelda, of course, but, er, because I had slept in the other one.

I checked in at the Control Bay, but there was no news. The task force was still heading for the Orestes jump point, and our patrols had lost contact with Confed forces. Hulk was directing flight ops while Panties got some rest. He seemed to be doing all right, so I got some chow--ugh--and went looking for Zelda. I couldn't fly yet, but I could at least start the simulator phase of my Avenger qualification program.

*

I discovered Zelda in "her" workshop in Bay 27. She was surrounded by the remnants of at least one Hellcat, probably two. As I watched curiously, Zelda carefully removed the core from an inertial damper unit and placed it in a magnetically shielded spare part container. With a sigh of satisfaction, she straightened up and stretched her cramped muscles.

She reminded me of Rachel, after polishing off a field mouse or two. "Well,Chief," I said. "You seem pretty proud of yourself."

Zelda turned her head and gave me a lazy smile. "I am, honeybunch. As spare parts, those Hellcats of yours will put six of our fighters back in space. And I can use some of their armor on that Vindicator that came back with its ass shot up. And this core here goes into one of my pet projects. Here, I'll show you."

I followed Chief Morgenstern as she carried the part container to another bench behind several porta-potties. Sitting on the bench was a...a contraption of some sort with a rounded cylinder sticking vertically out of it. With its slight bulge at the tip, it resembled nothing so much as a nightmare electronic dildo, except that it was a bit too big.

"Uh, what is it, Chief? It looks like a--"

"No, silly! It's a cloaking device!"

Yeah, right. "Pull the other one, Chief. I saw the cloaker they installed in my Excalibur for the Kilrah run, and this looks nothing like it. For one thing, mine was much bigger. Uh, the cloaker, I mean."

"That's because those Confed eggheads were blindly copycatting the Kilrathi nitwits who invented it. How close did you get to that fiend, Thrakhath,before you uncloaked and blasted him to hell?"

Hey, that 'fiend' is my neighbor! "Uh, about two hundred klicks."

"You see? To defeat sensors at that range, you need raw power! The cats also designed their cloakers to ambush at close range, but given the power-to-massratio, they had to install them on those flimsy Strakha deathtraps. Confed used an improved design which could handle the mass of an Excalibur, but the unit was still huge and complex."

I began to see what she was driving at. "So you accepted a lower cloaking threshold, hence a smaller, simpler, cheaper unit. But the inverse-square law is in your favor. So what's the effective stealth range?"

"About ten to twenty thousand klicks, depending on the sensor and the mass of the fighter."

Shit. "Uh, don't call us, Chief, we'll call you."

She gave me a knowing smile. "Laugh away, skeptic. You'll come crawling to Zelda soon enough."

"Actually, I'm crawling now, Chief. If you have time, I want you to help me start my Avenger qualification."

She made a face. "Why do you want a pig like the Avenger, hot stuff? You were born to fly Banshees."

"In the long run, I can't command this wing unless I can fly every fighter init. Look, if you don't have time, I can always get Lt. Mourne..."

"No, no," she said hastily. "I'll help you. If your shoulder's OK, that is."

"It's fine," I lied. "The sling is just a precaution. Old Forceps is such a mother hen."

She snorted. "It's a good thing you fly better than you bullshit, snugglebuns. OK, iron man, let's hit the simulator." She grabbed my hand before I could hide it in my pocket, and refused to relinquish it until I climbed into the simulator.

*

Zelda was right: compared to the Banshee, the Avenger was a real pig to fly. It was, however, a bit faster and more nimble than the Longbow, and its four-torp salvo was an improvement over the Longbow's two by two; I had seen too many Longbows toasted while trying to make a second torpedo run. On the other hand, the Avenger paid for its improvements with thinner armor, weaker shields,and half the Longbow's missile load.

Frankly, I was disappointed. A little extra speed and agility wouldn't turn the Avenger into a dogfighter, but a bit more firepower and protection might make all the difference on a torpedo run. If I'd taken an Avenger against the pirate frigate or the cruiser task force, I probably wouldn't have survived.

With my left hand essentially immobilized, I concentrated on pure flying, which I could do mostly with my right hand. When I could spare it, I used my right hand on left hand controls, such as throttle and weapons panel, but mostly Zelda ran them from the control booth. Progress was about as good as one could expect, given my temporary handicap. Zelda figured I'd be ready to solo as soon as we reached Orestes.

We were examining flight recordings of Avenger torpedo runs when Panties stuck her head in the sim compartment.

"Mav--Earthworm! Get your butt down to CIC! Patrol's just detected Confed fighters ahead of us." She popped out before I could reply.

Shit! Intrepid was in no shape for a fight. Our only hope had been to sneak away to a dockyard, but now, with more patrols undoubtedly closing in behind us, we'd be detected and--Hmm. I had an idea.

"Zelda, how would you like to meet Captain Eisen?"

I caught her by surprise. "Uh, OK, sweetie. Are you sure this is, uh, the right time?"

I smiled at her. "Oh, yes!"

*

"Colonel Blair, are you out of your cotton-picking mind?"

I stood firm. "It's the only way, Captain. We know Lexington's fighter wing has been reinforced. We won't have a prayer in a stand-up fight."

I was right and Eisen knew it, but he didn't like it at all. "Colonel, can you really fly an Avenger?"

Zelda and I exchanged glances.

"Like he was born in one, Captain," said Zelda decisively.

Eisen still wasn't convinced. "What about your shoulder?"

I slipped off the sling and wiggled my fingers. I hoped the pain didn't show on my face. "Nearly 100%, sir. The sling's just a precaution. Old Forceps--"

"--is such a mother hen, Captain!" continued Zelda smoothly.

"Very well." Captain Eisen knew when he was licked. "We'll do it your way,Colonel. Good luck."

Zelda and I saluted smartly and headed for the door. We were halfway through when Eisen called out to us.

"Chief Morgenstern! Does that contraption of yours really work?"

She didn't blink an eye. "Like a charm, sir!" she said cheerily. Zelda kept smiling until the door slid shut, then she turned to me and wiped her forehead.

"Whew! You sure like living dangerously, dead eye! We'll be lucky if we're not court-martialed for that little performance."

"Cheer up, Chief. If we don't perform as advertised, we won't live to see the inside of a brig."

"Comforting thought. OK, I'm gonna prep your Avenger and install the cloaker. Maybe it'll actually work this time!"

Her grin was contagious. "Comforting thought." I turned serious. "Uh, Chief? Why'd you back me up in there?"

Her smile faded. "You know why," she said quietly.

Shit. "Look, Chief, there's no way you and I--"

She shook her head. "No use fighting it, Honeyblair. We were meant for each other. You'll realize that, sooner or later." She turned and walked off.

Shit. She was a nice kid, and a top tech, but Chief Morgenstern was too...er, she wasn't very... Well, for one thing, she was too young!

*

My squadron leaders didn't like the plan either, but I outranked them. "The task force is taking a detour to the Orestes jump point," I said. "Just keep scouts ahead of you. If all goes well, the most you'll run into is a patrols or two. If I fail..." We all knew what that meant. "Just don't wait for me. If I'm not back by the time you jump, it means I've been caught or killed."

Hulk held out his hand. "Hulk wish Earthworm good luck."

"Thanks, Hulk." My right hand practically disappeared in his huge paw. "Yeow! Easy, Hulk, I only have one left! Er, right."

Panties was still unhappy. "We have a dozen pilots on this ship more qualified for this mission, Colonel. You're risking hundreds of lives just so you can fly it like a fucking Boy Scout!"

No, I just didn't want it flown by someone indifferent to the lives of my friends on the Lexington. "I told you, Colonel Farnsworth: if we play too rough, this thing will get out of control. As for qualifications, I'm the Heart of the Tiger, remember? I eat missions like this for breakfast, girlie!"

Maniac pre-empted her retort. "Just don't be late to the jump point, hero! Can't keep your little grease monkey waiting! Ha ha ha!"

Spirochete.

*

"Come back to me, my love."

Zelda handed me the thermos of tomato soup and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before scrambling back down the ladder. I checked my cheek for wounds before donning my helmet and closing the canopy. Pre-flight had gone well. A little flexing had loosened up my left arm, and now I placed the hand carefully on the throttle. The fingers were still a bit stiff, but I could reach all the buttons. Cleared to launch. OK, take it nice and easy...

Whoops! My stiff left hand overadjusted the thrusters, and the Avenger leaped forward! I caught the launch field and the Avenger vaulted into space. I was still fighting the thrusters when the engines ignited and sent me into a pair of CAP Banshees. Frantically, I pulled on the stick, missing them by a hair's breadth! Heart in my throat, I shakily settled into stable flight.

Five thousand klicks out, SoSo commed me on a tight beam. "Wow, spectacular launch, Colonel! How'd you get so good on the Avenger so fast?"

"Uhh... Hey, I'm the Wing Commander, remember? Um, I'm cloaking now." Zelda had installed her device in the space normally occupied by the fighter's secondary weapons. I painfully set the cloaking controls with my left hand and engaged Zelda's device.

The effect was less pronounced than what I remembered from the Excalibur,though it was still unmistakable. A cloaking field absorbed little inbound EM,but almost all outbound. My sensors registered reduced input, and the star-light coming through my canopy dimmed.

"It's working, Colonel!" SoSo's signal had also faded. "Your return is much fainter!"

We calibrated the effect using tight beam active sensors from the Intrepid, then corrected for nebula effects. In combat, detection range would depend on the sensor types arrayed against me. Under those conditions, SoSo estimated maximum detection range at fifteen to twenty thousand klicks.

I set off at the Avenger's best cruise speed. From the pattern of active contacts our patrols had encountered, we had a vague idea of Lexington's position, but I had to pinpoint her. I prayed that Gant was using his capship active sensors to augment the search for Intrepid. He had outsmarted us once already, of course, but I knew he was under intense pressure to deliver decisive results.

*

For the next few hours, I carefully threaded my way between Lexington's far-flung patrols. I was beginning to despair of finding the carrier, when I caught a faint echo of ship-to-ship comm chatter. Quickly, I turned in the indicated direction, and soon I was picking up more. I couldn't descramble it,of course, but it guided me like a beacon. Soon I left the nebula and its dampening effects behind, and picked up Lexington's active sensor signature.

And more. The entire task force was present, disposed in a vast triangle with destroyers at the points and Lexington in the center. The formation's face was toward the nebula. Distance was hard to estimate from passive data, but as I cruised at a safe range, my AI could take parallax readings.

If the entire task force was here, roughly between my launch position and the Orestes jump point, the patrols behind Intrepid must be coming from units of the Third Fleet. Gant was apparently patrolling with no more than two fighter squadrons, leaving four to strike the Unionists when found; the task force CAP was being provided by Hellcats from the three destroyers.

With firmer distance data from my AI, I took up a position between the two leading destroyers, about 50,000 klicks from each and well ahead of Lexington. Keeping an eye out for stray CAP or returning patrols, I settled down to wait. Every hour Intrepid went undetected put her an hour closer to safety. I began to hope we could escape without a fight.

My hopes were dashed within minutes. SoSo suddenly came on the comm.

"EarthwormConfedpatrolhasfoundus!" She caught herself and went on more calmly."Task force going active! Launching fighters and running for the jump point!" She gave a position just outside the nebula and only two million klicks away."Good luck, Colonel!" SoSo signed off.

Captain Gant would start launching within minutes, so I had to act fast. I turned the Avenger toward Lexington, went to full speed, and armed torpedoes in salvo mode. Thirty thousand klicks...twenty-five...twenty...active emissions were steadying on me...fifteen--shit! They had me!

Uncloak! Activate sensors! Gun power to shields! Torpedoes locking! CAP coming after me, but they're way behind! Ten thousand! Lexington's firing all she's got! Bam! Bam! Evade, Blair--No! Don't lose lock!

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Jesus, how'd they get close enough to--no, they're just trying to distract me. Bam! Bam! Shit, they did! Corkscrew--oops, almost lost lock! Careful, Blair, you're not an ace with this bird yet!

Five thousand! Nearly locked! Steady up, Blair, you gotta hit this ship head on, and it's a damn small target from this angle! Bam! Bam! Clang! Shield's failing, transfer some engine power! Locked! Steady...launch! Clang! Clang!Crack in the canopy! Comm damage! Shit, guns damaged! Engines max, the rest to shields! Turn, Blair, turn!

I switched views to keep Lexington in sight. Yeah, rows of fighters were lined up, ready for--shit, they're launching already! Here comes a Thunder--

KERBLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM! Four warheads exploded simultaneously against the bow!Lexington seemed to slam into a neutronium wall. Pieces of Thunderbolt emerged from the near side of the fireball.

I steadied on a course for the Orestes jump point and lit the afterburner. No point in setting an indirect course when Gant knew the Union ships' location.

I still had a few seconds before the CAP closed in on me. I stole a quick look back at Lexington--yes! No explosive decompression, minimal debris, no bodies, and no secondary explosions. The bow was crumpled and twisted, but transverse force fields further aft must still be intact. The launch gear, however, would need a dockyard to restore. With only his few destroyer-based fighters still available, Gant had lost fighter superiority at this end of Silenos.

I was content. Lexington was no further threat, my former comrades aboard were almost certainly safe and sound--especially Disch!--and, whatever happened tome, Intrepid and her escorts should make their escape unmolested. All in all,a good day's--

"Blair! I know that's you, you filthy coward!" Lemonlips was calling me on the general channel! Oh boy, could this possibly get any better?

"You can't escape, traitor! We'll nail you, and we'll get all your barbarian friends!" I could see other comm personnel crowding behind him, eager for a peek at the notorious traitor.

OK, time to taunt the pants off--Wait a sec! This guy could be useful...

I activated the comm. "Vinny, honey! Thank God you're still alive!"

"Huh?" The shock on his face was comical.

"Oh, Vinny, when I think of those long, sultry nights we shared in your cabin,I miss you so much, darling!"

Garr's colleagues were starting to edge away from him, or shooting him strange looks. In confusion, Garr turned from one to the other. "No! It's not true!He's lying! It was Gant, not Bl--Oops! I mean--"

I pretended to be hurt. "Oh, Vinny! And you said I was the only one! You bitch!" I killed transmission. Four Hellcats were coming up on my six, and I wanted to go out in a blaze of--Wait! They were falling behind...

"Hahaha! Hey, Vinny! I'd like to spend some 'long sultry nights' in your cabin, sweetmeat!" My AI identified a lagging Hellcat as the source.

"No, Vinny!" broke in his buddy, in a convincing falsetto. "Choose me! I'll wear my new lace panties! Hahaha!"

Another Hellcat pilot, a female, came on the comm. "Oh, Lt. Garr, I had no idea you were so sensitive! How about a threesome with me and my wingman? Heeheehee!"

Now other pilots were joining the fun. Even the destroyer comm officers chimed in. Garr answered each taunt with a savage fury that only provoked his antagonists to greater efforts. The CAP pilots had completely forgotten about me in their zeal to roast Garr.

I killed afterburner and sat back to enjoy the show. To suggest that the universally despised Garr could be attractive to anyone--of either sex—had been an inspiration. The result was a masterpiece of irony, with my archenemy cast as the very instrument of my escape. This was definitely one for the Guinness Book of Taunts!

Twenty thousand klicks from the nearest Confed sensor, I activated cloak and redirected power to autorepair. Reaction was setting in again, but I took it in stride. This latest miracle mission should convince the remaining skeptics in the wing, even Panties. My qualifications to be Wing Commander would be undisputed now.

Still, though, I was never one for half-measures. Was there something more I could do to further cement my position? I considered all I had learned about Border Worlders in the last few days, and decided there was. Thank goodness I had brought along tomato soup today--it was the only thing from the food dispensers that didn't taste like liquefied cardboard.

*

I found the task force some distance from the jump point, but I didn't reveal myself right away. While shadowing the capships and accompanying fighters, I made final preparations for the dramatic return of the Heart of the Tiger.

As it neared the jump point, Intrepid began taking its fighters back on board. That was my cue. I increased speed and decloaked. Flying erratically, I came up on Intrepid from the rear. Intrepid immediately tried to contact me, but I didn't answer, even as the attempts grew more and more insistent.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. I activated the comm and quickly assumed my pose.

SoSo's face appeared on my screen. Obviously relieved to contact me at last,she bubbled over with emotion. "OhColonelthankGodwethoughtyouwere--" She froze in shock.

I was slumped in my seat, head lolling to the side, helmet off. Tomato soup ran from my hair down my left forehead, over my closed left eye--which I had blackened with grease--and down my left cheek. More soup covered the left shoulder of my flight suit, and my hand, which I held out in supplication, was slathered in simulated gore.

"EEEEEEEK!!!" SoSo burst into frenzied activity. "Medic! Medic! Flight deck, incoming wounded! Hang on, Colonel, we're--"

Weakly, I parted my lips, and more soup trickled from the corner of my mouth. As SoSo watched in horror, I tried piteously to speak. "Urk...ung..." I collapsed and made no further movement.

"NOOOOO!! Oh God, Chris, please don't die on me!" SoSo was almost in tears."We need you, Chris! We--What the hell?"

Grinning, I sat up and started wiping my face with with a handkerchief. "Why, SoSo! I didn't know you cared!"

For several seconds, SoSo didn't make a move, not even a twitch. Then, I swear, the whole comm screen turned red to match her apoplectic complexion. In a voice I hope I never again hear this side of Hell, she screamed,"GoddammitColonelIhavenotimeforthisshit!!" and broke the connection.

"Hey! Where's my clearance?"

*

Probably half of Intrepid's surviving crew was down on the flight deck to welcome me. When I popped the canopy, they broke into a deafening ovation,punctuated by cries of "Bravo!" and "Encore! Encore!" I waved from the cockpit, then quickly climbed down the ladder. I gratefully accepted a towel from a grinning Barr. Zelda pounced on me joyfully and hugged me so hard I could hardly breathe. I high-fived deckhands and accepted a hug from Lt. Tennant. When Lt. Mourne tried to embrace me, however, Zelda quickly stepped between us.

The cheering crowd parted as Hulk cleared a path for Panties. Smiling, she walked up to me and stuck out her hand. "Welcome back...Wing Commander!"

I took her hand gratefully. "Thank you...Tamara." At the mention of Panties' first name, Zelda shot me a warning look. I quickly let go of her hand.

"Excellent performance, Colonel," continued Panties. "I was nearly in tears. I assume your mission was just as successful?"

"Mission?" For a moment I was confused. "Oh, the mission!" I turned to look at my battered Avenger. The leading surfaces were pocked and warped by laser fire, and the armor had burned through in several places. I turned back to Panties.

"Piece of cake..." I put my arm around Zelda. "...thanks to Chief Morgenstern here." Zelda smiled up at me with a look of gratitude on her face that I'll never forget--though I'll certainly try.

End of Chapter 13

Previews from Chapter 14:

"The missing transmissions seem to relate to that biochemist and the Masaspacelab."

"Suppose I stop in some time to inspect your equipment."

"Woo! One less Confed!"

Chapter 14

We were relatively safe in the Orestes system. The Union maintained a modern surveillance array there, which meant we could suspend flight operations entirely. That gave us a chance to hold our long-delayed memorial service.

Captain Eisen himself presided. The religious revival that had swept most of the Confederation had not fared well among the rugged Border Worlders, so the Militia still conducted the less emotional traditional rites. Nevertheless, I was deeply moved by the ceremony, perhaps because we were saying good-bye to so many.

Maintenance had forged some of Intrepid's debris into a crude mass sarcophagus propelled by a Hellcat engine and thrusters. When the Captain had solemnly intoned the names of the dead, Ensign Swensen, their faithful guardian, performed his final service for them. With the press of a button, he sent the sarcophagus on its infinite journey through interstellar space. As it shrank to a dot in the distance, the honor guard fired its salutes, and Captain Eisen led the company in a traditional Border World hymn.

"Ninety-three bottles of beer in the wall, ninety-three bottles of beer..."

I approved of the hymn's symbolism: We, the survivors, figuratively downed a brew for each of our fallen comrades. Early in the Kilrathi War, the Border Worlders had matched the word with the deed, but ever-lengthening casualty lists had quickly made that impractical.

The Union task force headed for Orestes III, where we could put into an orbital dockyard for repairs. In addition, we badly needed replacement pilots and fighters, crew replacements, and supplies. Most important, we needed repairs to the food dispensers; our bland diet was beginning to affect morale.

My shoulder was acting up again--Forceps was right, I shouldn't have flown so soon--so I headed for the storage hold to get some rest. I should have known others would have the same idea. My search for an empty bunk took me all the way to the back of the hold. That was where I found Lt. SoSo.

She was kneeling in front of a box on which a single candle was burning. It stood in a multicolored pool of frozen wax, which told me this wasn't the first time she'd come here. SoSo was staring at the flame, seemingly mesmerized, or perhaps just lost in thought.

I hesitated, reluctant to disturb her, but I had already made too much noise. She turned with a start. "Oh, it's you," she said coldly. "Have you come for more jokes, Colonel?"

Whoops. Border Worlders generally admired a good practical joke, but SoSo was apparently more sensitive than the others. Having long ago learned that the best response to an emotional female was abject capitulation, I attempted to smooth things over.

"Lieutenant SoSo, I am so sorry for hurting you like that." My head hung in simulated shame. "I was thoughtless and insensitive, and I'll never do anything like that to you again." I turned to go.

"Wait, Colonel."

Yes! She bought it!

"It was a good joke, sir, it just...came at the wrong time. Please don't go."

I returned and sat down next to her. "Holding your own service, Lieutenant?" I inquired.

SoSo turned back to her candle. "I joined Intrepid near the end of the War, Colonel, when we were fighting to keep the cats out of the Styx Cluster." Her voice reflected the strain of that time. "We lost people nearly every day. The wing had fifty percent c-casualties in t-two weeks. Three planets fell to the c-cats, and there wasn't time to evacuate... I was just out of school. I started coming here, to...to remember the dead in peace."

"Then you haven't been here in over two years?"

She nodded. "I'd hoped that was all over with. But now--" She smiled without humor. "You know, this box was still here. Nothing had changed... and I guess n-nothing has changed out there, either..." She put one hand over her eyes.

"Tell me about them, Velina."

She wiped her eyes and looked at me blankly. "Wh-who?"

"Your friends. You want to remember them? Remember them to me."

SoSo swallowed. "Well, I guess the one I miss most is Audrey--Lt. Ames—my cabinmate. We came aboard at the same time..."

For nearly an hour, SoSo talked about her departed comrades. Though I had seen far more death than she, I was touched by her accounts. She painted such vivid pictures of her absent friends that I could almost see their faces. Moreover, in telling her stories, SoSo was revealing more of herself than she realized. Open, trusting, vulnerable, she readily formed emotional bonds--too readily for wartime, when they could be ripped asunder in an instant. Yet she took her licks and still hung on to her fragile emotions--emotions that war had burned out of me a long time ago.

Finally, she ran down. "Sorry to bend your ear for so long, Colonel. Um, I'm due on watch. Thank you for listening, sir." SoSo leaned over to blow out the candle stub.

I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Leave it, please? I'd like to watch it for a time." SoSo looked at me for a second, then nodded. She stood up and left without another word.

I climbed into the adjacent bunk. Staring at the candle, I began my own roll call. So many. So many. Spirit, Iceman, Angel...no, better to think about the living, the lucky ones who had survived the war. Robin, of course, and Rachel. Vababond, Eisen. Melek and Thrakhath, or rather, Zeke. Yes, Zeke...

*

After our first meal together, Zeke and I had adjourned to the front porch,where we could watch the suns go down. I had given him a small plate with the chicken leftovers, and now he was feeding tidbits to my girls.

"Christopher!" His voice was filled with delight. "I believe your canine trusts me at last!" Robin was resting her forepaws on his leg as she reached up for a dangling morsel.

I was happy Zeke had finally made friends with Robin, but I was also impatient to hear the rest of his story. "So anyway, Zeke, you were picked up before Kilrah..."

Reluctantly, he turned his attention from my pets to me. "Yes. A corvette took me aboard. And that was when I realized that a special destiny awaited me. All twenty-seven aboard were females! In their prime!"

Huh? "Whoa, Zeke! We never encountered Kilrathi females--"

He held up a paw. "I was surprised myself, Christopher! It turned out that among our females, a kind of 'feminist' movement was growing toward the end of the War--one with certain similarities to your own of several centuries ago. Too proud to exploit males for support, enough of them enlisted in the Navy--against the opposition of the other females--to crew a new corvette. As soon as I was brought aboard, I ordered the ship to the nearest jump point. Just in time, too! Even with our head start, we were damaged by fragments of our...our home."

Zeke paused for a moment, overcome by grief. "No, save your sympathy, friend Christopher. Retribution for our crimes was inevitable." He wiped a tear from his eye before continuing. "Having led my race to ruin, I was a dead cat in Kilrathi territory. We proceeded into human space, to the uninhabited Pythagoran cluster. There, Destiny intervened again."

My droid came onto the porch with an assortment of fruits and nuts from my orchards. Zeke selected a juicy peach and savored the taste for a time before continuing.

"We were in the Lemma system, making repairs, when a Terran transport popped through the Theorem jump point. We prepared for battle, but it turned out they were just traders. Our corvette was equipped with experimental cloaking gear--with our old equipment, of course, we could only cloak light fighters--and they were interested in buying it."

Zeke finished his peach and neatly spat the pit onto his plate. He next tried an almond. "I had told my companions of my old dream for Kilrah—agricultural, egalitarian--and they were captivated by it. So we exchanged our corvette for the transport and enough cash to establish ourselves on a farming world. It took nearly a year of wandering to find a suitable place--Kilrathi are not welcome in much of the galaxy--but here we are!"

I shook my head. "Neighbors! A year ago, who would have thought it!"

Zeke lovingly stroked my two pets. "Incredible, is it not? That is why, when I learned we were neighbors, I knew I was fated to offer you the olive branch. "He looked at me expectantly.

I thought for a long time. I didn't believe in fate, but I did believe in seizing whatever opportunities chance threw my way. Here was my opportunity to make peace with my own past, to banish my own demons forever.

I extended my hand. "I'm glad you came, Thrak--er, Zeke."

Zeke grasped my hand in his paw and squeezed, gently so as not to crush me. "Thank you, Christopher." His voice betrayed the profound emotion he must be feeling.

I only nodded. Not trusting myself to say more, I went back to watching the sunsets.

Presently, with the second sun half below the horizon, Zeke turned to me again and sighed.

"You know, Christopher? It just doesn't get any better than this!"

*

I awoke to find SoSo's candle burned out. Feeling more refreshed than I had in a long time, I yawned and stretched. To my surprise, my shoulder felt fine. Perhaps Forceps really did know what he was doing.

I was hungry, but first I had to consult with the Captain about replenishing the wing at Orestes III. Since Eisen practically lived in CIC, I checked there first, and found him in the comm alcove with Lt. SoSo.

SoSo was impatient with her jury-rigged equipment. "Come on!" She pounded on the console's keyboard in frustration. "Hah! You see, sir, there it is, right there!"

I peered over Captain Eisen's shoulder at the images and text flashing in the display. "Yes, Lieutenant, I see it," he admitted reluctantly.

I was baffled. "What are you guys doing with all those porno images and online comic books and--"

SoSo stared at me as if I needed remedial classes. "Colonel, that's supposed to be eighteen hours of secret Confed transmissions."

Huh?

Captain Eisen cleared his throat. "It's my fault, Lieutenant. To cover my tracks, I broke into several personal computer systems on the Lexington and used--" Seeing my dismay, he hastened to reassure me. "No, Colonel, I hadn't yet gotten around to yours."

Whew! Just in case, though, I'd better erase those retouched holopics of Barbara Dahl. Too bad. A couple of them were quite spectacular.

Eisen continued. "Anyway, these records are from when I used Major Marshall's PZ to take over one of the official comm channels. Unfortunately, it seems the Major had also broken into the same channel for his own purposes. Probably wanted higher download bandwidth than he could get over the GGG."

"FOR EIGHTEEN SOLID HOURS?" I knew about Maniac's "hobby"--everyone did--but I didn't know he was such an enthusiast.

The Captain was deep in thought. "The missing transmissions seem to relate to that biochemist and the Masa spacelab. They're crucial to our case against Covert Ops."

SoSo snapped her fingers. "I got it! When Orestes III voted to join the Union, her sister planet voted to remain with Confed. I'll bet just about any sizable Confed installation on Orestes IV will have the comm recs we need!"

Eisen was elated. "Good work, Lieutenant Sosa! Our course to Orestes III takes us within three million klicks of Orestes IV. Find a suitable target on the planet, then see if Chief Morgenstern can get a ground team in and out."

"Aye aye, sir!"

*

It looked like I had a mission to plan. Before that, however, I had to get something into my stomach, even from the malfunctioning food dispensers.

I made it to the galley with my appetite intact, but I was sidetracked on arrival. Panties was standing by the galley window, gazing out at the stars. I had a momentary vision of my lovely Flint, standing in the Victory's cathedral-like main gun control, lost in the beauty of the cosmos. Perhaps it was just the ache in my heart for my lost love, but I felt a sudden attraction to this stranger who was my second in command.

She must have heard me walk up next to her, but she said nothing. Her pretty face bore a look of profound sadness. The funeral must have hit her hard. For a time we just stood side by side, silently sharing the view. Finally, Panties broke her silence.

"It's never going to end, is it?" There were no tears, just sad resignation.

I shook my head. "Wars always end, one way or another, Colonel."

She went on, as if she hadn't heard. "I spent seven years fighting the Kilrathi. And then I thought it was over, and humanity was united, right? But now we're on the edge of a new war! And after this one, what? Another? And another, and another..." She turned at looked right at me. "We are smart people," she said earnestly. "We should be able to think of something better to do than all this killing."

She was right. I could think of a number of better things to do, most of them involving Tamara, a bed, and half a dozen common household items.

Then I remembered the story Flint had told me one time in the Victory's lounge."Did you ever hear of the ancient Trojan war, Tamara? For ten long years, the city of, uh, Troje was besieged by the...er, the Geeks. I bet the Trojans thought their war would never end, either."

I had piqued her curiosity. "What happened, Chris?" she asked.

"Well, according to legend, the Geeks finally got into the city in a giant Trojan condom...or something. They--" Oops.

"Go on, Colonel."

Damn. "The Geeks, uh, sacked the city, killed the men, and enslaved the women and children," I finished lamely.

Panties frowned. "Let me get this straight, Colonel. The Trojans fought, and sacrificed, and bled, and died for ten heartbreaking years, and then at the end they were all killed or chained? Way to cheer me up there, Earthworm!" She turned and stalked out of the galley.

Shit.

*

I tried to put Panties out of my mind by concentrating on my food selections. Over the last few days I had discovered the least unappetizing offerings, and I loaded up my tray with those. I wasn't in the mood for company, but when two of my pilots waved me over to their table, I pretty much had to join them.

I recognized the one called "Archie," remembering him from that first time in the chaos of the flight deck. Next to him was the one I assumed was his wife. Opposite was...uh-oh, it was the young lady from Forceps' examination table! As I neared the group, she turned beet red and avoided my eyes. Well, I had failed with Panties; perhaps I could do my good deed here.

"Archie" stood up and shook my hand. "Hi, Colonel. I'm Lieutenant Archibald Ardent. This is my wife, Valentina, and this is Tech Yokely." Valentina smiled brightly, but Yokely only mumbled "Hello."

OK, Blair, time for an Academy Award performance. "Say, Yokely, have we met before?" I stared at her in mock puzzlement.

The tech flushed again, and muttered, "In the, uh, infirmary."

"Was that you?" I hoped I wasn't overdoing the surprise. "I was hurting so much I couldn't see straight." Actually, that wasn't far from the truth.

She finally looked straight at me. "You couldn't? I could tell you were, uh, in pain, but..."

I shook my head. "If I hadn't heard your voice, I wouldn't even have known anyone was there. What were you in for, Yokely?"

Yokely was smiling with relief. "Please, call me Yanni, Colonel. I had two broken arms and shrapnel up my--er, shrapnel wounds."

"Ouch! You must have been in agony yourself. And yet you still worried about me! I'm impressed, Yok--er, Yanni." This was going well. Yanni was a swee tkid. The situation had possibilities...

I glanced at Valentina and Archie, who were watching my performance with barely concealed amusement. Obviously I wasn't fooling them one bit.

Yanni was embarrassed by my praise. "Er, no sir, Forceps gave me a painkiller. But I've always been, well, a bit empathic. All my friends thought I'd be a medic, but I didn't have the grades, so I went into the Militia as a--"

"--a gunner, right?"

Astonished, she could only stammer "H-how d-did you know, sir?"

I gestured vaguely. "Well, you have to know these things when you're a Wing Commander. So anyway, Yanni, where's your station?"

"'A' Turret. Starboard bow, dorsal side. We're still making repairs."

I leaned closer to her. "Suppose I stop in some time to inspect your equipment--the turret equipment, I mean."

"W-why that would be wonderful, Colonel! I--we would be happy to have you. "She was obviously flustered at all the attention from the famous Heart of the Tiger. "Um, I'm due back, sir. It was, er, good to talk with you."

Archie and I both stood to see her off. "See you soon, Yanni." I shook her hand, holding on just a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She smiled and headed for the hatch, glancing back occasionally and colliding with two chairs and an ensign on her way out.

Archie watched Yanni leave, then grinned at me as we resumed our seats. "Smooth, Colonel. Very smooth." He put his arm around Valentina.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," I replied, smiling modestly. Noting the flight badges on my companions' uniforms, I ventured, "So you two fly Vindicators?"

Valentina nodded. "Uh-huh. Archiekins and I always fly wing." She and her Archiekins exchanged a quick kiss.

"Newlyweds?" I hazarded.

Archie lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Why, yes. Four months. How did you know, Colonel?"

"Hey, I'm the Wing Commander, remember?"

He nodded wisely. "Of course. Well, Tina and I met in flight school. One thing led to another, and at graduation, we requested matching assignments. Here on the Intrepid, we just grew closer." He looked at his wife, who smoothly picked up the narrative.

"We were married here, on board, by Captain...uh, Captain D-Dominguez." She looked at Archie and reached for his hand, seeking comfort.

I imagined how I'd feel if I ever lost Captain Eisen. "Your captain was quite a leader, I hear, Lieutenant."

Archie hugged his love and gently kissed the top of her head. "He was, Colonel. And from what I've seen of Captain Eisen, he's from the same mold."

Valentina checked her watch. "Oh, Archie, honey, it's time for you to see Forceps. Do you mind if I stay and talk to the Colonel?"

"Of course not. You can tell me all about him later." The two lovebirds kissed passionately while I pretended to be interested in my tasteless food.

Archie offered me his hand again. "See you later, Colonel. Good to meet you. "He stood and headed for the exit. At the hatch, he blew Valentina a kiss before disappearing.

"He's a good man, Valentina. You two are very lucky."

"Call me Tina. Yes, we are lucky. So how come you're not married, Colonel? Or do you prefer seducing schoolgirl gunners?" She smiled impishly.

"Chris, OK? Actually, I was almost married once, but, well, she didn't...make it through the War." I thought of Robin and Rachel. "Actually more than once, but I screwed up royally, I'm afraid."

Tina reached over to touch my hand. "I'm sorry, Chris. I guess I'm just so happy with Archie that I...I want everyone else to be happy, too. So you have no one special waiting for you, back home?"

"Well, Robin's pretty special to me." I was grateful to Tina for reminding me of my beloved golden retriever. "She's beautiful, smart, and affectionate. Fearless, too. One time she and I were out in the fields, looking for an Arcturan megamole my neighbor had seen. I'd been sampling my own moonshine a little too much, and I was slow to react when I was jumped." I shivered at how close I had come to a horrible death.

"And Robin...?"

"Didn't hesitate a second," I declared proudly. "She went for that beast like a shot. Kept him busy long enough for me to pick myself up and blast him with my photon rifle! Robin was pretty torn up, though, and I was afraid I'd have to shoot her--"

"What?"

"--but old Doc Witherspoon fixed her up, almost as good as new. She still limps a little, but she's just as beautiful as ever. And just as cuddly, and soft, and--"

"Um, yes, that's, er, good, Chris."

"Then there's Rachel."

"You have TWO?" Tina's eyes were wide as saucers.

What was eating her? "Sure. You know how, after the War, the economy was down the tubes and refugees and homeless were wandering the streets? Well, I found Rachel in an alley in Port Glomerulus, filthy, starving, and injured. But I could see she was a fighter. I took her in, and she's filled out nicely. She still remembers, though; won't sleep anywhere but my bed."

"Oh, my! Uh, what does Robin think about..."

"Oh, at first they fought like cats and dogs." I chuckled at my little joke, but Tina didn't seem to get it. "Then, as they got used to each other, they became inseparable. Now they even sleep together."

Tina choked on a bite of "vegetable surprise." After a short coughing fit, she asked incredulously, "They, er, SLEEP together?"

"Yeah. I'm glad Rachel turned out to be so friendly." Tina coughed again and reached for her coffee. "Of course, Rachel still has a lot of the alley cat in her. I finally had to have her fixed."

Tina sprayed a mouthful of coffee all over her tray. "Fixed? FIXED?"

"Well, yes!" What was with this silly woman? "Look, if it was good enough for Robin--"

Tina jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over in the process. "You fucking SICKO! No wonder no one will marry you! Keep away from me!" She threw her coffee in my face--thank God it was only warm--and ran from the galley calling plaintively, "Archie! Archieeee!"

I just sat there, wiping my face with my napkin, completely bewildered.

Moose and Lt. Mourne brought their trays over from the food dispenser and sat down across from me. "What was that all about, Earthworm?"

I shook my head. "Beats me, Moose. I was just telling her about my girls." I sat down and started poking at my food.

"Girls?" asked September.

"Yeah. Back home. You see, there's Robin..."

*

"Ouch!"

"Hold still, kid!" Forceps carefully, but not gently, rubbed more regen crème on my black eye. "Jesus Christ, first a dislocated shoulder, now a beaut of a shiner! How'd you get this one, Blair? And why do you smell like coffee?"

"Ouch! Um, a misunderstanding with Lt. Mourne. I cleared it up and she, um, apologized. So did Tina."

Forceps reached for a small bottle and put a few drops into my eye. My vision improved almost immediately. "Ya shoulda decked 'em, kid. Somebody whacks ya, ya gotta show ya can't be intimidated!"

Remembering the tender "I'm sorry" kiss September had planted on my eye, I had to disagree. Man, things were certainly looking up. First Yanni, then--

The speaker overhead squawked to life, startling the tech who was working on it. Flailing his arms, he fell off the grav ladder onto the deck. "Aarrgghh! My wrist!" he howled.

Forceps spit into his cup. "Dammit! Can't I get any peace in this playpen?" He hauled the moaning tech over to the next examination table.

The speaker squawked again, but this time SoSo spoke slowly enough that I could understand most of it. "Colonel Blair to CIC! Emergency!"

Uh-oh. Trouble.

*

I skidded to a stop in front of Captain Eisen's briefing table. The bulkhead display showed our task force and two other groups of ships about two million klicks distant from us. One was Confed!

"Oh, shit!"

Eisen turned away from the display. "Yes, Colonel. A Macedon-bound Union convoy was caught defying Confed's interdiction order in the Thessaly system. They escaped here, to Orestes, but a Confed destroyer and a frigate followed them. The convoy's only escort is an old frigate with four fighters."

I jumped as he swatted the table with his swagger stick. Damn, I thought he'd left that on the Lexington!

"According to the distress call, they'll be under fire in an hour. Proceed with all due haste, Colonel. That convoy needs our help!"

I jumped to attention and saluted. "Right away, sir!" I turned to go.

Panties rushed in, out of breath. "What's all the--Whoops!"

I grabbed her hand and dragged her along. "Come on, Panties, we've got to see if anything's ready to fly!"

*

"Two Banshees, Chief? Is that all?"

Zelda didn't budge a millimeter. "You ordered flight operations suspended, remember, SIR? Catch up on our maintenance, you said, SIR! You're lucky I cheated a little and prepped even two!" For the moment, at least, there was no trace of her infatuation with me.

She was right, of course. "OK, OK, I'm sorry I yelled at you, Chief." And I'm sorry I have to fly another suicide mission now! Shit!

Panties glanced at the second Banshee, where Lt. Tennant was just fitting the last leech missile. "How long to prep a couple of heavies, Chief?"

Zelda shook her head. "At least an hour." No longer angry, to me she said, "Sorry, Blairbear."

Panties wasn't one for regrets. "That's it, then. Zelda, prep four more Banshees and two Avengers. Colonel, let's get into our suits. Maybe we can hold 'em off long enough for the cavalry to arrive."

I shook my head. "No, Panties, I want you to lead the second wave. I'll get another Wombat pilot to--"

"How about me?" I turned, to find Blade leaning casually against a workbench. "After all," he went on, "why should Moose have all the fun of flying with the Heart of the Tiger?" He grinned.

I had to hand it to these Border Worlders: they certainly were brave. Stupid,but brave.

"Say, Earthworm," he said curiously. "Where'd you get the shiner?"

"It's a long story, George. Better go suit up!" And make out your will.

*

We pre-flighted and launched immediately. Time was critical, so we used our afterburners lavishly. Even so, we nearly arrived too late.

The battle was joined while we were still a hundred thousand klicks out. From the confused montage coming over our comm systems, we gathered that the Union Banshees were outnumbered two to one. They fought superbly, barely keeping the Confed fighters off the transports, but they couldn't last long. Meanwhile,though badly out gunned, the Union frigate interposed itself between the Confed capships and the convoy. The Confeds met it with an avalanche of gunfire.

As Blade and I approached, four Hellcats broke off and came after us. The Union frigate, trailing debris and flaring with secondary explosions, slowly pulled out of the line of fire. Its guns were silent. The Confeds ignored it, instead boring in on the convoy. It looked like the destroyer was lining up for a capmis shot.

Our mission seemed hopeless, yet Blade was undaunted. "Victims in sight,Earthworm," he called calmly. I took heart. Maybe the Heart of the Tiger could pull off another miracle!

"Blade! Arm leeches, volley mode! We gotta take out that destroyer! Ready on burner again?"

"Roger."

"Go!"

"Taking it to them, Earthworm!"

My Banshee leaped ahead. As we streaked at them, the four Hellcats launched a volley of missiles and plastered us with gunfire. Our nimble Banshees were difficult targets, however, and a swarm of decoys kept the missiles off us. Then we were through, at the cost of a few minor hits.

"Status, Blade?" I called.

"I'm fine...and ready to do THEM damage!" God, I loved this idiot!

The Hellcats were falling behind, though not too far behind for missile shots. Ahead, the Confed capships were putting up a wall of fire. Blade and I tried to concentrate on our missile run while evading laser fire and decoying the missiles behind us.

Bam! Bam! Taking hits! Leeches locking...Whoop! Whoop! Decoy! Whoop! Decoy! Silence. Bam! Damn, corkscrew! OH SHIT, CAPMIS LAUNCH! Whoop! Whoop! Decoy! Locked at last! Range eight thousand! Launch!

"Launch, Blade! Cover me, I'm going for the capmis!" I wrenched the Banshee into a tight afterburner turn, with the inertial dampers screaming at me all the way! The capmis was streaking off into the distance. Could I still catch it?

Splatsplatsplat! Hah! At least six leech hits had completely disabled the destroyer. No more capmis launches!

Splat! What the--

"Next victim!" Jesus, Blade had leeched a Hellcat! What a flyer!

"Status, Blade?"

"Nothing that'll stop me from getting my quota of bad--" BLAM! "--Earthworm!I got enemy up the ass, sir! I could use some help!"

I made a split-second decision. There could be dozens, even hundreds of people on that transport ahead.

"Evade! I gotta get that capmis!" I switched to scattergun and upped my gun energy. Come on, come on... Ploop ploop ploop! KABOOM!

"Hang on, Blade, I'm coming!" I switched back to leech cannon.

"It's getting too hot, Earthworm! I need to pull ou--" KABOOM! "—she's breaking up! Ejecting!" Fire blossomed ahead.

Damn! Alone, I was too vulnerable. There was only one Union Banshee on the scope. I changed course to join up, but I had little hope. Most Union pilots weren't that--Whoa! He just smoked a Hellcat!

In an achingly familiar voice, the Banshee pilot proclaimed her victory.

"Woo! One less Confed!"

Ohmygod! Flint?

"Flint! Form on my wing!"

"Maverick? MAVERICK? Roger that, Maverick!"

We shot toward each other, using our speed advantage to outdistance our two groups of pursuers. We turned at precisely the same instant, and Flint settled on my wing as if she'd been born there. I felt a surge of elation. Those poor Confed bastards didn't have a prayer now!

We turned into the five remaining Hellcats and tore them to shreds. Flint took out two with IRs and I disabled two with leech cannon and missiles. The last one limped off in panic, trailing debris behind him.

Now for the frigate. It was already within extreme range of the convoy, and starting to fire. Flint was down to her last IR. I had two leeches left.

We caught up on burner, approaching from the vulnerable stern. "Flint! Go in and weaken those shields for me!"

"Taking it to 'em!" She pulled ahead.

I came in a few hundred klicks behind. Dancing like a ballerina around the frigate's return fire, Flint blasted away with lasers and fired her IR at pointblank range. With Flint drawing most of their fire, I raised gun power and rapid-fired the leech cannon. I launched my missiles and pulled out with half my front armor vaporized. Splat! Splat! Just as the BW freighter's shields collapsed, the frigate lost all power.

Whew! Just in time. My fuel was all but gone.

Flint commed me. "You really nailed him, Maverick!"

"WE nailed him. Uh, Flint, I gotta pop the top here. I'm out of gas."

"Wait, Chris! Follow me. I have a surprise for you." She headed for the closest of the four transports.

Curious, I followed. Did she want me to eject nearer their ship?

The comm activated again. Oh God, it was Rachel, radiant as ever!

"Hi, Stallion! Excuse me, I mean, COLONEL Stallion! Download this and activate autopilot, please."

"Uh, OK, Rachel." What the--Holy smoke, they had adapted their aft dorsal cargo module into a fighter hangar! As I watched, Flint was tractored neatly inside. A minute later, so was I. The landing field deactivated my engines,already on minimum, and I settled to the deck with a minor jolt.

I popped the canopy and scrambled down the side of my fighter. I threw down my helmet and ran toward Flint's fighter, parked less than a meter ahead in the cramped hangar. Flint collided with me, and I hung on for dear life as she sobbed with joy.

"Chris! Oh, Chris!"

"Robin! Dear, dear Robin..."

Rachel must have already been on her way from the flight deck, because she ran into the hangar less than a minute later. As Robin grudgingly let go, Rachel slammed me against the Banshee, stuck her tongue down my throat, and grabbed at my crotch. Fortunately, the flight suit protected me from major damage.

As we probed each other's tonsils, I noted that my dear, sweet, gentle Rachel hadn't changed a bit!

*

"So why'd you name your ship 'Sappho,' Robin?"

Robin was standing at the food dispenser in the transport's tiny galley. "Sappho was a Greek poetess, Sixth Century BC, from the island of Lesbos." She punched in an order for mushroom soup. "It seemed appropriate."

She took a steaming bowl from the dispenser. "More soup, Chris?"

My mouth was full, so I just nodded. Robin smiled, and punched up another portion. Setting one in front of me, she settled with her own into the seat across the diminutive table.

I pushed my empty bowl aside and dug into the new one. Oh, God, I'd forgotten how good real synthetics could taste!

Robin regarded me with amusement. "My God, Chris, don't they feed you boys in the Militia? No wonder you're so thin!"

"Robin, you wouldn't believe the crap we're subsisting--"

The door slid open and Rachel slipped in. She kissed me on the forehead and squeezed in next to her partner. "Fattening him up, Robin? Good! He looks like a refugee from a death camp!"

Good old Rachel. "Har har, very funny. What's the situation outside?"

"Well, partner, the gig from BWS Friggit picked up a bunch of Union and Confed pilots, including your wingman. He's fine, and chowing down like there's no tomorrow! They're heading for Orestes III and a dockyard."

"Their status?"

Rachel's tone grew solemn. "Chris, they took nearly forty percent casualties. They wanted to toast those two Confed ships." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I was tempted to cheer them on--Chris, they were firing at US!--but I knew you wouldn't approve. So I convinced them not to. I think."

Robin and I exchanged glances. On our last tour, vengeance was all I had lived for. If she hadn't talked me out of that deathmatch with Thrakhath in the Loki system, I wouldn't be here.

"Blood begets blood," I said at last. "If they lose their heads, their own families will pay the price."

Rachel knew I was right, but it didn't make her any happier.

"How about the Confeds, Rachel?"

"Life support is functioning." Unlike civilian craft, most warships were built with electrically isolated life support systems. "Orestes IV is sending tugs, but those two won't be bothering the Union for a few months."

"And the cavalry?"

She nudged Robin and smiled. "I commed your girlfriend and explained the situation. She's taking her fighters home. So, Chris, you boinked her yet?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Rachel!" My smile faded, and I fidgeted with my spoon. There seemed to be nothing more for us to say. Or maybe too much. "Well, I guess it's time to go. I'll see that you're paid for my fuel."

Robin looked at Rachel, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed Rachel's hand and looked me right in the eye.

"Chris, were you really happy on your farm?"

There it was: the question I'd been asking myself ever since I came aboard. "I thought I was, Robin, but even then I knew my life was incomplete. Now, seeing you two again, I don't think I could go back there without...someone."

Rachel spoke up. "Robin and I feel the same way, Chris. We have each other, of course, but without you, we're still...incomplete."

Robin put her free hand on mine. "Chris, we want you back. Both of us. No conditions this time."

"No rules," said Rachel, taking my other hand. "We'll make them up as we go along."

"It could be so good, Chris," said Robin earnestly. Her eyes held the promise of all that was to come.

In the back of my mind, a little voice was screaming at me. Oh boy, kiss them!

Instead of kissing, however, I temporized. "Your business barely makes a living for two. Could it support three...or more?"

Robin was ready for that one. "OK, we had a hard time at first, what with the economy and all..."

I could see that for myself. They were both thinner, and new worry lines were etched on their lovely faces. Yet there was a sparkle in their eyes that I had never seen on the Victory.

"...but with war in the air, customers are so desperate they're paying double. A couple more runs, and we'll have enough to go into privateering."

"Chris," said Rachel, "however this insane Border World secession turns out, interstellar space will be topsy-turvy for years. A good privateer team could clean up!"

I smiled. "The Three Privateers?" I was only half joking; this was the best offer I'd had in ages.

"Yes, Chris," said Robin seriously. "One for all and all for one."

Well how about it, Blair? You've been a pilot, a mechanic, a programmer, a diplomat, a farmer... You can be a privateer, too.

Then I remembered my keepsakes from the Annabel Lee. They were back on the Intrepid, in my footlocker in the storage hold.

I sighed. "Robin, Rachel...I can't answer now, because I still have a job to do. But if I survive this business, I promise I'll give you a straight answer this time. How's that?"

Robin looked at Rachel before nodding decisively. "OK, Chris. That's all we ask."

*

In the hangar, we shared tender farewell kisses. Robin's took me back to that long-ago parting in the Kilrah system, when I had to leave her and her damaged fighter at the last depot before flying off to blow Zeke's homeworld to hell. Now, as then, I wondered if I'd be coming back to her.

I climbed into my Banshee and did a quick preflight. As I lowered the canopy, Robin and Rachel joined hands and waved. I tried to burn their images into my memory: Robin Peters, who flew with her head and lived with her heart; Rachel Coriolis, healer of fighter engines and human souls.

A touch of reverse thrusters sent me into space. The exit field ignited my engines, and I steered clear of the ship before throttling up for the long trip back to Intrepid.

I kept the cockpit view centered on the Sappho long after it had shrunk to a pinpoint and disappeared.

*

"Great mission, sir!" For a change, I could actually understand SoSo. "All I can say is, we're lucky to have you on our side, Colonel! You have clearance, sir. Sir? Colonel, are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah, Lieutenant. Just...thinking."

*

Zelda met me at the bottom of the ladder. Taking my helmet, she said, "Panties tells me you ran into some old...friends." She looked at me keenly, perhaps trying to divine from my expression what had transpired on the Sappho.

"Yes," I replied absently. "Very dear old--" No, that's no good, Blair. You'll never make it back to them if you don't concentrate on the here and now.

"But I'm back, now, Chief," I continued briskly, "and we have work to do."

End of Chapter 14

Previews from Chapter 15:

"Uh, nice john."

"Nice try, Vag, but Lady Luck is my bride!"

"Hey! Watch where you point that thing!"

Chapter 15

Zelda helped me off with my flight suit. Her help wasn't strictly necessary, of course, and it definitely wasn't part of a crew chief's official duties, but after a long hard mission, it was much appreciated. Zelda was, in fact, an ideal crew chief in almost every way. My fighter was always configured properly, and I had yet to find even the slightest fault in any of the systems. If only she weren't so... Maybe if she were a little more, er, like Rachel.

"Thanks, Chief. Uh, I'd better check if SoSo has found--"

Zelda grabbed my arm. "Whoa, Honeyblair, I have something to show you." I followed her to her workshop, a place I was beginning to think of in terms of the legendary Lockheed "Skunk Works" from the Twentieth Century.

We stopped in front of one of the porta-potties I'd first seen when Zelda showed me her cloaker. "Here it is, sweetie!" proclaimed Zelda, beaming with pride. "What do you think of it?"

Well, what COULD one think of a porta-potty? "Uh, nice john," I said lamely.

She laughed. "No, silly! Not john; JON. J-O-N. Stands for 'Jettisonable Operations Navpod.' I modified it from a standard porta-potty."

That's it, I thought. She's round the bend. "Er, so you invented a navigable toilet, Chief? Very, er, resourceful."

Zelda just shook her head. "Blairbear, sometimes you can be SO dense! Look,sometimes you want to insert an operative into an area that's too hot for a shuttle or even a Marine lander. The JON fits on a torpedo hardpoint; that way, it's protected by the fighter's shields until launch."

"Launches like a torpedo, then? Same lock time?"

"No, less. The JON travels so slowly, you don't have to worry about shield penetration."

"And at the target?"

"In space, the JON grapples to the target; on the ground, it soft-lands. The occupant jumps out the door and sneaks in to his objective, or blows his way in with shaped charges."

Zelda opened the tiny hatch to show me the interior. I saw an acceleration chair with restraints surrounded by controls, life support equipment, power supply, and racks for weapons and gear. A light enviro suit was hanging inside, ready for use in airless or toxic surroundings.

"Watch, honeybunch," said Zelda. She reached in and flipped up the seat, then pushed a button on the control panel. I heard a flushing sound.

"It still works?" I asked incredulously.

Zelda smiled proudly. "Uh-huh. That was the hardest part: retaining the original function while adding the new capabilities. Of course the capacity is much smaller now, and there's only room for one roll of paper. Now, look here." She pointed to a rack beside the seat.

"Cosmo, GQ, Reader's Digest? You provided reading material, too?"

She nodded happily.

I regarded Zelda and her creation with undisguised admiration. "Chief, you are undoubtedly the most deranged individual I have ever met!"

"Why, thank you, Honeyblair," she said demurely.

*

After Zelda's demo, we hustled to CIC. Our closest approach to Orestes IV was in about eight hours, so we had to have a target and a mission plan long before then. I prayed SoSo had found something suitable.

As we entered CIC, I noticed a sleeping bag and mold-o-matt on the floor behind the briefing table. The Captain was tucked cozily into the bag, snoring away through all the activity in the compartment. An empty can of synthobeans stood on the table next to a nanowave heater. On call at all times, the Captain had done his best to make a home in CIC. Except, of course, for—no, he had that covered, too. A porta-potty--a real one, not one of Zelda's—was located just outside the comm alcove.

Speaking of Zelda, she was staring at the empty can and licking her lips. Too late, it occurred to me that some tasty Sappho takeout would have been much appreciated by certain nubile females on the BWS Intrepid. Damn!

We found SoSo in the comm alcove, working away on her Mc. As we entered the hypermedia field, I discovered that she had replaced my pastoral background with a glitzy bar. Two muscular male strippers were grinding away on the stage to a sensuous popular tune. Scattered everywhere were translucent vertical projections of Orestes IV detail maps, building diagrams, communications codes,and Confed patrol patterns.

Just as one of the dancers was undoing his G-string, SoSo noticed us and quickly shut down the computer. I blinked at the sudden brightness. SoSo, who had been in darkness longer, took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She looked tired.

"I've checked every comm center on the planet," she said, replacing her glasses. "You're not going to like this." SoSo brought up a display of the fourth planet, then zoomed in on an isolated building several klicks from a medium-sized city.

"All but one of them are located in populated areas, or in highly secure bases, or inside orbital forts. The only one we have a chance of getting into is this communications research center. Unfortunately, what with the tensions of a divided star system, it's fenced and heavily guarded by Marines stationed at these posts here, here, here, and here."

It looked bad, but I wasn't ready to give up. "How about one of the orbiting stations, SoSo? With a cloaker, I can get close enough to dash in, knock out the local defenses, and fire in a couple of JONs--"

"JONs?" asked SoSo.

"Infiltration capsules," explained Zelda. She shook her head. "Won't work, snookums. They'd spot the JONs on their sensors. If you knock out sensors, then they'll know someone's inbound. Either way, the Confeds will know they've been robbed. At the very least, they'll change their codes; they may even check their archived comm data."

"OK, the research site, then. The sensor post would spot the JONs there, too, so JONs are out. Maybe we can just walk in openly. SoSo, can you work up some fake IDs, card keys, and so on?"

She shook her head. "Once inside, I can get all kinds of codes along with thecomm data. But not before."

"Then we take out a guard post quietly and steal their keys." We were supposed to meet a detachment of Marines at Orestes III, but that would be too late. We'd have to go in ourselves, with silenced weapons...

SoSo shook her head again. "The whole place is ringed with combat sensors."She displayed the defense plan and pointed out some of the units. "Unless you're incredibly lucky, any attempt to take out the guards by force will alert the whole place."

Shit. "OK, good work, Lieutenant. Chief, go install your cloaker on a shuttle. We'll just have to think of some way to neutralize those guards."

Zelda gave me a peck on the cheek. "You'll think of something, dear."

I watched gloomily as she left the compartment. I didn't share her confidence in me.

*

On my way out of CIC, I stopped at the armament station to check on our fighter weapons stores. Despite the crew's strenuous firefighting efforts, many missiles had either cooked off in the fires, or were rendered useless by foam. We would need major replenishment from the Orestes III depots.

As I turned to leave, I noticed Hulk napping at the engineering station, his feet propped up on the console. His posture looked extremely uncomfortable, so I strolled over to see if I could rearrange him a bit. On other occasions,Hulk had proved all but impervious to stimulation, so I was surprised when he stirred at my first touch.

"What? Who? Hulk awake! Hulk hurt somebody! Hulk-- Oh. Blair."

"Sorry, Hulk, I was just trying to make you more comfortable."

He smiled at me. "Hulk thank Blair."

"Look, Hulk, why don't you sack out in one of the hold--er, dormitories?"

He shook his head. "Hulk come here to think. Hulk have problem. Ask Blair. Yes. Blair wise."

"What is it, Hulk? Trouble with your shoelaces again?"

"Ask Blair, how he like being back in combat?"

Good question. "Well, for one thing, my life is a lot simpler. On the farm,I had a thousand things to worry about. Here, I just worry about life and death, victory and defeat."

Hulk nodded sagely. "Hulk understand. Hulk like simple life. Peace not good for Hulk. Confusing. Hulk miss Kilrathi war, happy for trouble now. Hulk wonder: Blair liked killing Kilrathi?"

I pondered for a minute. Hulk had asked a simple question--of course—but there was nothing simple about the answer.

"I guess I've always liked being good at what I do. In the Academy, it was scholarship and flying. In the war, it was accomplishing the mission, not the killing--which incidentally is the difference between me and Maniac. Over the years, I've tried to be a good act--er, flyer, diplomat, farmer, and now...Now I just want to prevent a war."

Hulk looked disappointed. Either that, or he hadn't understood a bloody word I'd said.

"Uh, how about you, Hulk?"

He replied sadly, "Killing all Hulk can do. No good in peace, out to pasture. To live, Hulk must kill. Kill! Hurt! Maim! Mangle! Burn--"

"Hulk! Easy there, big guy! Whoa!" Poor Hulk was, in his way, as rigid as the Kilrathi had been, and he would inevitably follow the same road to ruin. How could I get around this obsession with fighting? Maybe...

"Look, Hulk, do you have any hobbies?"

He scratched his head a moment, then brightened. "Hulk used to stuff Kilrathi corpses. Then beat stuffing out of them! Much fun! Huh-huh huh-huh huh-huh!"

I winced. Taxidermy was out. Think, Blair!

"Uh, Hulk, did you ever think about raising livestock? Like rabbits, maybe?"

"Rabbits?" For once, it seemed I had Hulk's full attention. "Cute little bunny rabbits? Hulk like bunny rabbits. Soft, warm, furry. Hmmm. Blair have good idea. Hmmm..."

"You should think about it. I can give you advice...Hulk? Hulk?" I shook him, but there was no response. He just sat there with a smile on his face,occasionally muttering, "Bunnies!"

I left Hulk to whatever passed for his thoughts. I had a problem of my own to solve. Maybe some so-called food would help.

*

With Intrepid's crew quarters and recreation facilities unusable, the crew had moved most of their leisure activities to the galley. Several card games were in progress when I entered, but one in particular had drawn a large crowd. Curious, I joined the kibitzers.

I wasn't surprised to see Vagabond playing; no doubt he was taking advantage of the Unionists' supposed incompetence at cards. I was surprised, however, to find Maniac at the same table, since Vagabond had badly beaten him many times,both on the Victory and on the Lexington. And I was positively floored to see Lt. Mourne standing behind Maniac, with her hands caressing his shoulders.

I turned to the woman next to me, a Gopher Squadron pilot whom I knew only by her callsign.

"What's the game, Excell?"

"Bellybutton. Five card stud. Kid Shark is--."

"'Kid Shark?'"

"Yeah, that's what Maniac calls himself when he plays cards. Anyway, he's winning."

Huh? Vagabond should be wiping the floor with these guys! I craned my neck for a better view. This could be a historic match.

The pot already held over a hundred credits. Panties was dealing the fourth card. Turbo had already folded. Maniac had a pair showing; as I watched, he got the King of Marvin Gardens.

Tex had two watermelons up. His fourth card, a baker's dozen, was no help.

Vagabond got the loin of pork. His hand was not promising.

Panties dealt herself the cadet of space. That neutralized her ace of space and Kimberly cards, and made her visible cards worthless.

Maniac had high hand. Obviously savoring the moment, he cockily picked up some bills from his pile. "Kid Shark isn't greedy. He'll just bet one, two, three, four, FIVE big ones! Fifty credits to you, Tex m'boy!"

Tex folded without a word, disgust written all over his face.

Vagabond, despite his dubious hand, reached for his money. "Your fifty, Kid, and fifty more." There was a sharp intake of breath in the crowd. What was he up to? Maniac's pair couldn't be neutralized by another card.

Panties threw in her hand. "Fifty to you, Kid."

Maniac had been surprised when Vagabond bumped the pot, but his confidence was unshaken. "You're bluffing, old man. Here's your fifty. Deal, sweet buns."

"Last card," said Panties. The onlookers leaned closer. A couple of the other card games had broken up as the players joined the spectators.

Maniac got another king. Now he had two pair showing. He tried to conceal his joy behind a poker face, but his leg was jumping and he was humming "God Save the King." His hole card must be a doozy.

Vagabond's last card didn't help him at all. No, on second thought... Bellybutton was extremely complex, with wild, semi-wild, and tame cards, and some that changed value depending on the presence or stacking order of others. Yes, Vagabond had a chance after all, but there was only one card in the deck he could use. Did he have it, or was he bluffing? I tried to read Vagabond's face, but, as always, I failed.

"Two pair bets, Kid," said Panties. She was trying to remain calm, but her voice betrayed her excitement.

Maniac counted his bills, then put them all into the pot. "Let's get this over with, old-timer. Kid Shark bets three hundred twenty credits."

Murmurs erupted from the crowd. More crewmen crowded around the table. I felt someone shoving in next to me, and made room for Yanni. She took my hand, but she was watching the card players. No, she was watching Maniac!

After a moment of thought, Vagabond started counting his money into the pot. He didn't have enough in front of him, but he pulled a wad of cash out of his hip pocket and laid it on the table. "Here's your money, Kid, and five hundred more!"

More excitement among the onlookers. Vagabond was trying to buy the hand! He must have garbage! Kibitzers, especially the females, were shifting slightly toward Maniac's side of the table.

Maniac didn't hesitate. "Nice try, Vag, but Lady Luck is my bride! Will you take my marker, or you gonna make me go through the motions of raising the dough?" He tore a page out of his little address book and wrote on it.

Vagabond thought for a long minute. If he tried to make Maniac put up cash, everyone would know he was bluffing. I noticed Yanni was holding her breath. Her grip on my hand was becoming painful.

Barr leaned over and whispered in my ear. "The Kid's got him, Bearkiss!"

I shook my head and whispered back. "Twenty-five on Vagabond."

"You're on!"

Finally, Vagabond said, "OK, Kid, I know you're good for it." Yanni exhaled loudly. So did a number of others. Lt. Mourne rubbed Maniac's shoulders in encouragement. I glanced at Panties. Even she was caught up in Maniac's impending triumph.

Maniac gleefully threw in his marker. "OK, the Kid calls!" Not waiting for Vagabond, he eagerly turned over his hole card. It was the Elvis of Presley!

"Read 'em and weep, Vag! Three kings and two garbage cans! Ha ha ha!" He reached for the pot.

I closed my eyes. I usually enjoyed seeing Maniac humiliated, but sometimes it was just too gruesome to watch.

"Not so fast, Kid," said Vagabond calmly. There was a pause, during which he must have turned over his hole card. Then I heard Barr exclaim, "Jesus Christ! A royal salami!"

Stunned silence. I opened my eyes.

Maniac was staring blankly at Vagabond's hole card. A slight twitch at the side of his mouth was the only sign of life.

"That's five hundred you owe me, Kid," said Vagabond, deadpan. He didn't bother to rake in the pot.

Vagabond leaned back in his chair, took out a cigar, and lit it. "You're good, Kid," he said. He took a puff on his cigar. "But as long as I'm around, you're second best. You might as well learn to live with it."

The crowd started breaking up, the spectators muttering in disgust. Lt. Mourne gave Maniac a contemptuous shove and headed for the exit. Barr smiled at me, shook his head, and handed me twenty-five credits. Then he went over to Maniac and gently shook him. "Hey. Game's over. Come on, Kid."

Maniac allowed himself to be led away. As he passed me, I heard him muttering, "Nobody's invincible to Maniac moves. What the hell happened?"

Yanni was looking at me in awe. "H-how did you know, Colonel?"

"I'm the Wing Commander, remember?" I answered absently. I'd just had an idea, and I was trying to work it through.

Yanni moved closer and lowered her voice. "I-I have the duty in 'A' turret in a few minutes. Alone. If you want to have that...inspection now?"

"Can't," I answered shortly, still absorbed in my thoughts. Noting the hurt in her eyes, however, I snapped out of it. "Sorry, Yanni, I was a million klicks away." I smiled and kissed her forehead. "Take a raincheck? I have a mission to fly!"

She smiled with relief. "I'll be waiting for you to cash it, sir." She headed for the exit.

I walked over to Vagabond, who was stuffing his pockets with cash. "Congrats, Vagabond. That was a masterpiece."

Vagabond gathered the last of his winnings and stood up. He flung the cigar into the disposal and looked warily around the galley, which was now deserted. Without warning, he suddenly shouted, "YIPPEE, I WON! WAHOO!" Vagabond danced a little jig in front of me. He chickenwalked a few steps away and moonwalkedback. We high-fived, low-fived, and mid-tenned. He raised one arm straight up and shouted, "OWOOOO, I'M BAAAD!"

I laughed at the antics of the usually cool card player. "Hey, Vagabond, take it easy, buddy!"

He grinned back at me. "You don't understand! Today's my lucky day! Look! "Vagabond pulled a trans slip out of his breast pocket and handed it to me.

I read it out loud. "Congratulations! You have won the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes Grand Prize of TEN MILLION--"

"Here!" he said, handing me another slip.

"The Militia of the Union of Border Worlds hereby grants an Honorable Discharge to Captain Winston--"

"And this!" Another trans slip.

"My darling Winnie, of course I'll marry you! Rich or poor, you're the only man for me! I can't wait to feel your strong arms around me, to take your long, hard--"

Vagabond snatched the sheets back. "You see? I'm on a roll! Everything is--What's wrong, partner?"

My face must have betrayed my disappointment. "Well, I'm happy for you, Vagabond, really I am. It's just that I needed you on the next mission. But now, with your discharge and all..."

"Hey!" he exclaimed, putting his arm around my shoulders. "You think I'd pass up my last mission with my best buddy? Besides, it's my lucky day! I'll probably find a gold asteroid or something!"

I had to swallow a lump in my throat. "Thanks, pal," was all I could say.

"You're welcome. One thing, though. If you can possibly make the wedding, you gotta be my best man, OK?"

I took his hand and squeezed warmly. "Deal!"

*

SoSo, Zelda, Vagabond, and I gathered in front of the briefing table. Captain Eisen stood bleary-eyed and stubble-faced on the other side. SoSo had awakened him from a sound sleep and explained the situation to him, but she had no more knowledge of my plan than he did.

"All right, Colonel," said Eisen in resignation. "There's supposed to be a detachment of Marines waiting for us on Orestes III, but Lieutenant Sosa here tells me we can't use them anyway. So what hare-brained scheme have you hatched this time?"

I smiled confidently. "OK, this site is guarded by Confed Marines, right? So what is it that Marines care most about, Captain? What occupies all their waking hours to the exclusion of all else?"

"That's easy. Combat, sex, and--" Understanding dawned on him. He looked sharply at Vagabond, then back at me. "Why, that's brilliant, Colonel!"

"Of course it is," I said modestly.

"What is?" asked SoSo. She still didn't get it.

I ignored her. "We'll cloak the shuttle at launch and stay cloaked most of the way, there and back."

"Meanwhile," said Eisen, "we'll stay on course. We won't do a thing to make Orestes IV suspicious. That means you'll be on your own if there's trouble."

"Captain, this whole mission depends on Confed not even knowing it's been robbed. If we're spotted, the mission's a failure, regardless of what happens to us."

SoSo spoke up again. "Colonel, aren't you forgetting the guards at--"

"Leave that to me," said Vagabond, cracking his knuckles. "They won't feel a thing!"

*

Reluctantly, I stood stiffly at the shuttle hatch and let Zelda kiss me good-bye. At the last second, I presented my cheek instead of my lips, but I still got nicked.

"Be careful out there, Chris." She backed down the ramp and waved.

I gave her a perfunctory wave and headed for the cockpit, checking to see that SoSo was secured in one of the passenger seats.

I strapped myself into the pilot's seat and started pre-flight. Vagabond, in the co-pilot's position, reached over and dabbed at my wound with a tissue.

"Well," he said, smiling. "A few more of those and we'll have to start calling you the Purple Heart of the--"

I glared at him and he shut up.

*

Zelda's cloaker worked like a charm. We were well past Orestes IV's outer defense sphere before Confed sensor emanations approached the detection threshold. We held our breaths when I switched off, but no one challenged us. There was too much shuttle traffic, and no one was very alert that far inside the outer zone.

We set down in the rear parking lot of the research building at about 0100 local time, perhaps ten meters from the guard post. Taking our time, we debarked and wandered casually toward the guards, laughing and joking as if we hadn't a care in the world. We were all wearing Confed uniforms.

One of the guards, a female, shouted at us. "Halt! State your business!"

I smiled at her. "We're picking up a friend here. She's getting off work in a few minutes. We're going on a double date!" I indicated Vagabond and SoSo, who laughed and waved.

The guards relaxed and let us approach. At close range, I could see all three were female, tall and attractive, if a bit beefy. They were wearing combat fatigues and gear, including helmets. I indulged myself in a brief bondage fantasy--oh, to be tied up and abused by these Amazons!--before returning to business.

"Mind if we wait inside?" I asked innocently, feigning a chill. The first Marine, a blonde, shrugged and waved us in. The guardhouse was quite homey,with mini-fridge, a cot, chairs, and more than enough room for all six of us.

Inside, I tried to make small talk. "So, Corporal..." I checked her name tag. "...Orney, you from Orestes IV?" She didn't bother to answer. I noticed that she and her companions--Privates Ott and Evvey--were making eyes at Vagabond. So much the better.

I nodded slightly at Vagabond. He took my cue and reached into his pocket for a deck of cards. "Say, how about a little bellybutton while we wait? I could use some extra cash for the bars tonight!" He pretended to leer at SoSo.

I knew it! The Marines' eyes lit up like sparklers! This would be easy as--

"Can't," said Cpl. Orney. "No cash. Blew it at the strip club last night."She and her companions desperately searched through their pockets, but found no money.

"Er, then for matches...or something," said Vagabond. It was no good. The game had to be exciting enough for SoSo to grab the cardkey on the rack by the door and sneak into the building unnoticed.

The Marines just shook their heads dejectedly. I had to come up with something brilliant, or the mission was doomed! Think, Blair! Combat, sex, and cards. Combat, sex, and...SEX!

"How about strip bellybutton?" I suggested, with forced calmness. Jesus, what was I saying?

SoSo and Vagabond looked at me as if I'd just gone stark raving mad. The Marines, in contrast, practically jumped up and down with excitement. "Now yer talkin'!" exclaimed Private Ott. She eyed Vagabond as a starving man eyes a steak.

"NOT ME!" yelled SoSo. "No fucking--"

Pvt. Evvey lifted little SoSo by her collar and sat her on the floor with one hand. "Shaddap and play, beanpole!" Evvey was grinning with anticipation.

Vagabond directed one last, pleading look at me before reluctantly sitting on the floor with the Marines and SoSo. I joined the circle, and the game began.

Under the rules of strip bellybutton, when a player lost the last article of clothing, he or she could force another player--of either sex--to strip also. The two would then generally go off for a little private fun and games. I did my best to build losing hands without being too obvious about it. SoSo, to her credit, put the mission above her personal scruples and did the same. Vagabond helped us out when it was his deal.

I came in for considerable ridicule when my Official Battlecruiser 4000 AD Underwear was revealed; SoSo drew a number of disparaging comments when her bra came off. I had in fact been overly generous in judging her so-so; no-no was more like it.

Finally, SoSo and I were down to one item each. Vagabond had dealt me a decent hand, which meant that SoSo would lose first. When we laid down our cards, however, I was low. I glared at Vagabond, who merely grinned and shrugged.

Amid calls of "Take it off!" and "Let's see it, shorty!" I reluctantly stood up. I dropped my drawers with as much dignity as I could muster, despite guffaws and catcalls from the Marines.

Though shriveled with embarrassment, I tried to leer convincingly at SoSo. "OK, uh, honey, let's, er, play some 'pattycake' out back."

Forcing a smile, SoSo also stood. Her hands, however, remained over her chest.

"Here, let me!" said Cpl. Orney helpfully. She reached for SoSo's panties, and in an instant, SoSo was as bare as the day she was born. Reflexively, SoSo adjusted her hands. That drew more laughter from the Marines.

"Come on, uh, honey," I said, moving toward the door. SoSo, gritting her teeth, followed.

"Here, Romeo!" called Cpl. Orney, throwing a condom assortment pack at me. "Should be one SHORT enough in there for you, shrimp! Haw haw!" She turned back to the game.

Short? Enraged, I started for her, but SoSo grabbed my hand. Right. Mission first. Next time, bitch!

We both grabbed for the cardkey, but SoSo got it first. Holding it over a strategic spot, she led the way toward the back entrance of the institute.

SoSo was muttering bitterly to herself. "'Vagabond will play cards with them, 'he said! 'You can sneak out while they're playing, ' he said! Did he say I'd end up stark naked? Nooooo!"

In contrast, I found myself relaxing as we ran across the darkened lawn. The feel of grass on my bare feet reminded me of the night Angel and I had played moonlight golf on Vespus. On the seventh green, we'd made passionate love. And on the eighth. And the ninth.

I was well into the back nine when we reached the door. Watching me warily, SoSo unlocked the door as quickly as she could and immediately returned the card key to its former duty.

As expected, the building was all but deserted at such a late hour. SoSo led the way down the hallway toward the computer room. Both of us were hugging the wall.

What was that? Somebody behind us? No, false alarm. While my head was turned, however, I bumped into SoSo, who had stopped at an intersection.

She whirled on me. "Hey!" she hissed, "Watch where you point that thing!"

"Sorry."

After checking both directions, we hurried across. SoSo was as keyed up as I was. Discovery meant certain capture and--worse--exposure.

We came to a long window set in the wall. Cautiously peering in, we saw a large electronics lab. Two bored-looking technicians were repairing a small holovid unit. We pulled back, and SoSo looked at me inquiringly. I made crawling motions. We'd have to negotiate this section on hands and knees.

Creeping behind SoSo, I noticed a tattoo on her, uh, stern transom. Curious, I got closer and tried to decipher it. Property...of...Hell's--

"Ouch!" Again, SoSo had stopped without warning. Tentatively, I touched my nose. Was it broken?

"NOW what the hell are you doing?" whispered SoSo.

"Reading your bumper sticker. I couldn't make out the last--"

SoSo turned white. Fast as a cat, she sat straight up against the wall, butt flat on the floor, hands concealing as much as possible. "That's it, buster! YOU go first!"

We made a right at the next intersection and found the computer room two doors down. I held my breath as SoSo inserted the card key, but the door opened smoothly. Hah! Our problems were over. Quickly, we sneaked inside.

I had forgotten that the fastest computers, even in the 27th Century, required cold operating environments.

I bit my lip to keep from yelling as my feet touched the floor. Aiyaa! Like ice! SoSo clapped both hands to her mouth, but a muffled scream still slipped through. She looked at me, her eyes pleading. I could only shrug. We had to complete the mission at all costs.

Already shivering, SoSo ran over to the main console. Wincing, she gingerly sat her bare bottom in the cold operator's chair and went to work.

As the minutes passed, I hovered nearby, hopping from foot to foot and blowing on my hands. I glanced at SoSo's chest, noticing that--thanks to the cold—she was finally developing a hint of a figure. Seeing me staring, she ventured a look just south of my navel base, but it did her no good. I now had the cardkey, which was--again thanks to the cold--perfectly adequate concealment.

SoSo tapped the keyboard decisively, then wrapped her arms around herself. "D-download in progress. Fifteen m-m-minutes." By now, our teeth were chattering, and both of us were shivering uncontrollably.

I knew neither of us could stand another fifteen minutes of, er, exposure. There was just one chance. "S-S-SoSo, you know what we have to d-d-do."

The very thought made her sick. "You m-m-mean..." She couldn't say it.

I nodded, reluctantly. I didn't like it any more than she did. "We have n-n-no choice. It's the only w-w-way to k-k-keep warm!"

She was desperately trying to think of an alternative, but there was none. Finally, she resigned herself to it. "OK, let's g-g-get it over with," she chattered. I took her hand and led her to an open area of the floor...

*

The data came through on schedule, which was good, because SoSo and I were too exhausted to continue. We were warm, finally, but I didn't think I'd ever feel clean again. SoSo must have felt the same way. She shoved a stick of gum in her mouth--now where the hell had she gotten that?--and chewed furiously as she retrieved the loaded terabyte data cartridge.

I stared at the cartridge with envy as SoSo immediately put it to use as a fig leaf. I had the cardkey, of course, but hers was bigger than mine.

We returned the way we had come, stopping to check at crossways, and crawling under the lab window. At the last intersection, I caught the sound of distant voices and froze. As I crouched, straining my ears, SoSo touched the back of my shoulder.

"Aiyee!" I hissed. "Dammit, SoSo, your hands are still cold!"

"Sorry," she whispered. "Um, Colonel?"

"What?" Shit, were those Marines down there?

"You won't tell anyone what we, uh, did, will you, sir?"

Huh? I turned to face her, fighting down my anger. "Oh, right, Lieutenant! I'm going to report how we scampered around this installation buck naked and did calisthenics in our birthday suits, just like one of Maniac's idiot Playboy' aerobics' vids! Oh, yeah, I'm just dying for us to become the laughingstocks of the ship!" I paused for breath. "Velina, I don't think so!"

She shrank under my wrath, but her relief was obvious. In a very small voice,she said, "Thank you, sir."

I cautiously stuck my head around the corner. The coast was clear. We dashed through the intersection, back to the exit, and out into the night.

As we approached the guardhouse, I prayed that Vagabond had managed to keep the guards busy, despite our lengthy absence. I listened for voices, or perhaps the sounds of card play, but I heard nothing. Thoroughly alarmed, I carefully sneaked into the guardhouse, expecting the Marines to pounce at any second. I needn't have worried, however; Vagabond had done his duty well--too well.

The Marines were sprawled on the floor, naked, asleep, and snoring lustily. Scattered all around were used condoms--I lost count at eleven. In the middle of it all was Vagabond, or rather, what was left of him. He lay on his back, naked, unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling. His hair had turned white and stood straight up. An idiot grin was frozen on his face.

Fighting tears, I knelt and gently closed Vagabond's eyes. Then I reached for his last hand of cards, knowing what I would find. Yup, it was the Dead Man's Hand: aces 'n apes; the same hand Spirit had drawn before her last mission.

SoSo was nearly dressed. Sadly, I put my own clothes on, then both of us hurriedly dressed Vagabond. We carried him out to the shuttle and took off before the guards came to. The mission was a success, but at what a cost!

SoSo had said nothing since we left the institute. She could only huddle in the co-pilot's seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Once, when I tried to reach over to her, she slapped my hand away and went back to sit with Vagabond.

Though we were behind schedule, I still had to complete Phase II of the mission. After a brief flight, I set the shuttle down in the parking lot of the local Kwik-E-Mart convenience store. SoSo wouldn't leave Vagabond, so I dashed inside alone and loaded up with six-packs, bananas, and other essential food items.

The trip back to Intrepid was uneventful. I cloaked as we approached the planet's perimeter defenses, and once again no alarm was raised. On the long flight home, I went over and over the mission in my mind, trying to find someway I could have saved Vagabond. I came up with nothing, but that didn't remove the weight of guilt from my shoulders.

*

Captain Eisen himself greeted us on final approach. "How did it go, Colonel?" he asked anxiously.

I tried to maintain a professional calm, but my voice refused to obey. "M-mission accomplished, sir."

His relief was profound. "Whew! You don't know how happy that makes me, Colonel. I don't mind saying, your plan sounded a bit half-baked--" Seeing my expression, Eisen suddenly stopped. "Any complications?" he asked sharply.

I nodded. "V-Vagabond, sir."

The Captain's face fell. "I'm truly sorry, Colonel. I know he was a close friend. Um, you have clearance. Report to me as soon as you land."

"Aye aye, sir." I broke the connection.

*

In his short time aboard, Vagabond had made a lot of friends among Intrepid's crew. A large crowd was silently gathering around the shuttle as I cracked the hatch. Zelda was waiting, and immediately ran up the ramp to embrace me. This time, I hugged her back.

Forceps and an orderly hustled inside with a blanket and a grav stretcher. A few minutes later, they emerged, Forceps gently guiding an unresponsive SoSo, the orderly pushing the blanket-draped stretcher. The crowd parted for them, then closed in behind as they passed.

I gave Zelda a final squeeze and headed for CIC. Still second-guessing, I cursed myself for taking the mission so lightly. Yet Vagabond had been so sure he was coming back, so convinced he was on a lucky streak! His confidence had been infectious. Then I realized that, ironically, Vagabond had been right in a way: he had indeed gotten "lucky" with those three guards.

A little too lucky.

End of Chapter 15

Previews from Chapter 16:

"Wake up, sir! We're in trouble! Again!"

"'Scuse me, feller, kin yew direct me to the wormbat ready room?"

"In other news, the Terran Confederation has lost one of its greatest heroes."

"Hey, Gomers! Knock knock!"

Chapter 16

Though I was dead tired, Vagabond's funeral couldn't wait. We were only a few hours out of Orestes III, where dockyards were waiting for Intrepid and our damaged escorts. BWS Friggit, the badly wounded escort from the Sappho's convoy, would also make repairs at Orestes III.

While the crew was assembling, I stopped at sick bay to pay my last respects to Vagabond privately. By now most of the wounded had been returned to duty and the extra beds in the corridors removed.

I found Vagabond's coffin on the deck in the surgery. Seeing no one around, I knelt and lay my hand on top of it. Vagabond had been a skillful pilot, a courageous warrior, and a loyal friend. He was a hero in the truest sense of the word, and I owed him my life many times over.

Indeed, thanks to Vagabond, the Heart of the Tiger would live on to earn even greater glory. As my legend grew, so would the mountain of corpses it was built upon. Enemies dropped like flies, friends fell all around me, but I would go on and on, and the body count would grow and...

I caught myself. This was no time for self-pity. Vagabond had known the risks and accepted them. He had done his duty, not for me, but for all mankind. I had to respect the choice as I respected the man.

Rest in peace, old friend.

I stood up to leave, only to find Forceps standing in the doorway. He was casually stuffing a pinch of tobacco into his mouth.

"Sorry 'bout yer friend, kid. I can tell he meant a lot to ya." He put his tobacco can into a back pocket and reached for a clipboard hanging on the bulkhead. "But I got my job ta do, and I gotta ask ya some awkward questions." He produced his ubiquitous cup and spat into it.

Uh-oh. Warily, I said, "Ask away, Forceps."

"Well, kid, I read your debrief 'bout how he got overexcited playin' cards with the Marines and keeled over in the shuttle. But when I was preparin' him fer the coffin, I noticed he was wearin' some mighty strange under-duds fer an hombre, if ya take my meanin'."

Shit, we must have put a Marine's panties on him by mistake. We were in such a hurry, and the clothes were scattered all over--

"Another thing, Blair: He had a buncha scratches all over his back--just like Kilrathi claw marks, only a lot smaller and shallower. And he lost nearly four kilos on that mission. Ya ask me, he died from overexertion of the bedroom variety, if ya take my meanin'. So, kid, you wanna tell me what REALLY happened on that planet?"

I thought for a moment, then shook my head. "Man to man, Forceps: Vagabond died while performing above and beyond the call of duty. I don't think anyone needs to know any more than that, if you take MY meaning." Forceps still looked skeptical, so I threw in the kicker. "How about I bring a six-pack by sick bay after the funeral and help you rewrite your report?"

Forceps tore the report from the clipboard and tossed it in the disposal. "You got it, kid!"

*

"Colonel Blair will now add a few personal remarks," said Captain Eisen. He stepped away from the podium, and I took his place.

"Thank you, Captain." I surveyed the ship's company for a moment before speaking. Everyone who could be spared from watch was gathered on the flight deck. SoSo, however, was missing. Forceps said she had left sick bay as soon as she'd recovered from her shock, but no one had seen her since.

I cleared my throat and began. "My friend Vagabond was a wanderer, partly by nature, and partly because of a past he couldn't leave behind. The tragedy of his life is that he was cut down at the very moment he'd found the home and the bride he'd sought all his life." I signaled to Maniac, who stepped forward to push the launch button. For once, the irrepressible pilot was solemn and subdued.

"Vagabond spent his life roaming the cosmos," I went on. "His body will continue to do so for eternity." I paused as the coffin floated off into space. "But in a sense, Vagabond has found a home at last, for his memory will live in our hearts." I signaled again, and the company began singing the special hymn I had chosen.

"You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to..."

*

I stumbled into the hold, thoroughly exhausted. Forceps had insisted I share the six-pack with him, and--no longer used to alcohol--I was now half drunk as well as worn out. When I noticed the flicker of candlelight, however, I felt I should say something to Lieutenant SoSo. I continued unsteadily toward her little shrine.

That was a mistake. As soon as she heard me coming, she blew out the candle and jumped up. Wiping her tear-stained cheeks as she brushed past me, SoSo made a beeline for the hatch and slipped through. I dimly recognized that she was still sore at me for that damned card game.

Bitch. I fell on the nearest empty bunk and was asleep almost instantly.

*

"Wake up, sir! We're in trouble! Again! Sir? SIR?"

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" It was a lie, but at least I got Catspaw to stop shaking me. I propped myself up on the bunk, taking as long as I could and savoring the last lingering moments of sleep. "What is it?"

"Confed's coming for Orestes III! The Captain wants you in CIC. NOW, sir!"

Oh, shit, would we never have any peace? "Lead the way, Catspaw."

"Yes sir! And it's CatSCRATCH, sir."

I yawned as I followed him through the hatch. "Whatever."

*

Eisen was in the comm alcove, leaning over SoSo, who was working her magic on the keyboard. Lt. Pilotte was at the helm. She smiled at me, and I replied with the Official Battlecruiser 4000 AD Secret Hand Signal.

Captain Eisen saw us and motioned us over. "Ah, Colonel. It seems we owe Vagabond more than we imagined. Lieutenant Sosa here has discovered something disturbing." He nodded toward her.

If SoSo had seemed tired before the mission, now she looked like death warmed over. Her voice was weak, and she spoke at what was, for her, a halting pace.

"While we were in the computer room," she said dully, "I downloaded recent comm traffic as well as the archived data Captain Eisen requested. I decoded the new stuff first, and that's when I discovered Confed's plans for Orestes." She put up a display of the Orestes system. "In 48 hours, the Third Fleet jumps in through these points." Task force markers appeared at most of the Orestes jump points. "They plan to take over Orestes III and trap our task force at the same time."

"That's it then!" exclaimed Catspaw. "It's war!"

"No, not necessarily," said Eisen thoughtfully. "Remember, this system's loyalties are divided. The fourth planet voted Confed, and there's a large Confed minority on Orestes III. No, the warships are for us, not the planet. Confed will just waltz in and take over without firing a shot. Hmmm."

He pondered a moment, then came to a decision. "All right, then. We absolutely have to get these ships into dock, but with the invasion coming, we can't afford more than a day. We'll need top priority in the yards and round-the-clock shifts. Engines first, then weaponry, then anything else we have time for."

He pointed at the display. "With our engines repaired, all four ships--five, counting the BWS Friggit--can just make it to the Pasqual jump point. Colonel, while we're in dockyard, I want you and your pilots to scour the planet for every pilot, every fighter, every spacehand you can lay your hands on. They're about to join the Militia! Meanwhile--"

Without warning, SoSo collapsed, falling out of her chair. She revived as I caught her, however, and finding herself in my arms, she pounded me with her fists and shouted, "No! No!" Catspaw knelt on her other side, and she clung to him fiercely.

Eisen was all concern. "Here, Catscratch, put her in my rack." He followed as Catspaw carried SoSo to the sleeping bag. "Poor kid," he said. "It's my fault. I pushed her too hard."

Catspaw tucked her in gently. He tried to stand up, but SoSo refused to let go of his hand. The Captain put a hand on his shoulder, and Catspaw sat down next to her.

Eisen turned to me. "You have your orders, Colonel. If we can't get this can shipshape in twenty-four hours, we're lost!"

*

Our task force arrived at Orestes III less than an hour later. The planet had three orbiting dockyards, only one of which was large enough--barely--for the Intrepid. As the carrier eased into the dock, BWS Tie and BWS THX headed for the yards on the opposite side of the planet. BWS Ewok took station near Intrepid, where she could make minor repairs on her own.

Technically, the Union High Command had given us the power to draft anyone we needed at Orestes III, but I rejected that approach out of hand. In the difficult days to come, it would be hard enough to hold on to volunteers, let alone unwilling conscripts. I gave my people strict instructions to use persuasion only, but to be VERY persuasive.

Tactless pilots, like Hulk and Maniac, I assigned to scavenging fighters. Pilots with more advanced social skills went to Militia stations or Reserve armories. I saved the tough jobs, such as the Merchant Marine union halls, civilian flying clubs, and spaceport bars, to the more, er, charismatic flyers. For example, I took Catspaw and Lt. Mourne to the planetside taverns. Patrons who weren't thrilled at the prospect of serving with the Heart of the Tiger might still succumb to September's charms or Catspaw's boyish good looks. As it turned out, my team reeled in the second highest number of volunteers: sixteen mechanics, spacehands, engineers, and pilots.

Top honors, however, went to Lt. Tennant. She persuaded an Orestes III news crew to come up and shoot her as she performed routine service on hundreds of arriving missiles. I caught part of it in a spaceport bar. Fascinated, I watched as Lou's beautiful hands softly caressed a blunt leech warhead, or deftly thrust into an IR combustion chamber, or languidly smeared protective sealant over an FF guidance module. She took a break once, wiping her sweat-beaded face with the back of her hand before slowly drinking a glass of water. Excess liquid ran from her lips, down her neck, and soaked into her non-reg cut-off tank top, as the holocam practically slavered.

Over ten thousand would-be recruits called during that show, ranging in age from ten to ninety-five, all male. After separating the wheat from the chaff, we wound up with twenty-two veteran volunteers, including one of the news crew.

*

Returning to Intrepid's dockyard with the new recruits (and another stash of goodies), I had to fly a holding pattern for about fifteen minutes before getting clearance. The whole area was a beehive of activity, with shuttles constantly coming and going. I noted that BWS Ewok had been joined by BWS Tie, which had ceded its dock to BWS Friggit.

While we orbited, I watched the Union repair crews replace Intrepid's entire starboard engine assembly--in keeping with the Border Worlds' modular design philosophy, the whole thing was one unit. It occurred to me that if we had made it to a Militia fleet base, they might have simply replaced the entire starboard hull, a full one-third of the ship.

Once aboard, I parked in one of the few available spaces on the flight deck. Supply shuttles were unloading all around us. I wondered why they hadn't been dragged out of the way, until I noticed the bays were all occupied by fighters. It seemed our scavengers had scrounged a full complement of fighting craft, from battered old veterans to shiny new models.

Harried representatives of the ship's departments met us as we debarked, and took charge of the new recruits. An Orestes III pilot brushed past me on his way up the ramp into my shuttle; he took off just as I cleared the safety area. Already, an incoming shuttle was making for the spot he had just vacated.

I headed for Wombat Squadron's ready room, where Panties was conducting orientation for our new pilots. As Wing Commander, I wanted to get acquainted with them and begin planning their train--

"'Scuse me, feller, kin yew direct me to the wormbat ready room?"

Startled, I spun around. The voice was familiar, yet I couldn't quite place it. It belonged to a guy about my height, with short-cropped dark hair, a prominent nose, and a hang-dog look. Maybe if I pictured him in a flight helm--No! It couldn't be!

"Clem?"

His expression changed to astonishment and then to joy. "Chris! Is thet really yew?"

I pumped his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. "Clem! You're alive! I thought you were history!"

He shook his head. "Nope. Ah accidenticly rejected mahself jest as yore missul hit. Ah felt purty stoopid, but then the damn ship blew, 'n then ah felt purty durn smart! Still, it nearly kilt me. Ah jest got outter the hopsitul yesterday."

"Well, you look great! I bet Bobbie Jo can't wait to make some more kids with you, you lucky devil!"

His face fell. "Bobbie Jo 'n I won't be havin' no more yung 'uns," he said sadly.

Oh no! Modern medical science could work miracles, but sometimes regeneration therapy still failed, even after repeated attempts. Sweet Jesus, I had turned poor Clem into a eunuch!

"No, Clem! You don't mean--"

He nodded. "Yup, she left me. Took up with a travelin' holographer."

"Left you? Oh, thank God! I-I mean, that's terrible!"

He didn't seem to hear me. His tone turned contemptuous. "Shootin' the local bridges, he said! Bridges mah ass! He was jest lookin' fer poor innocent wimmin t' seducify! An' him a Kilrathi, no less!"

Kilrathi? After their defeat, the Kilrathi had scattered to the four winds, making a living any way they could, but this was bizarre even for a cat. "Did you catch his name?" I asked curiously. A cat from an architect clan, maybe?

Clem nodded again. "Yeah, it was 'Halgha rar Nolles' or some such." He all but spat out the name.

My heart skipped a beat. Dare I hope? Trembling, I grabbed Clem's shoulders and demanded, "Clem, could it have been 'Ralgha nar Hholles?'"

He thought a second. "Yeah, thet's it! Yew know thet dood?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I met him once," I replied absently. Hobbes was alive? How was it possible? After he'd killed Cobra and Vaquero, I had blasted his ship without mercy. Maybe I missed his escape pod because of my sensor damage. But then who picked him up?

Clem was still talking. "Anyhoo, Chris, mah kids are with mah folks, so ah kin keep on fahtin' fer the Union! It's good t' be fahtin' t'gither now!"

What? Clem? Fighting on MY side? I shuddered. The only humans stupider than Clem were the ones willing to fly with him.

I put a hand on his shoulder. "Clem," I said earnestly, "with their mom gone, your kids need you more than ever. Go home. I'll handle things here."

He looked doubtful. "Are yew sure yew kin handle it alone, Chris?"

"You have the word of the Heart of the Tiger."

*

Two hours after I got back, and twenty-five hours after arrival at Orestes III, the task force got under way again. Now back to full speed, all five ships raced for the Pasqual jump point. Behind us, the dockyards went up in a series of spectacular explosions as the Unionists blew up anything that could be of military use to the Confederation. Fast courier ships, including Clem's, blazed for the system's few safe jump points with key Militia personnel. Most of the Militia, however, stayed behind with their families.

Although our repairs were far from complete, we had full weapons stores, full fighter and pilot complements for all five ships, and crews at about ninety percent strength. Unfortunately, we were still critically short of experienced officers, and many of our recruits were badly in need of training.

Worst of all, our food dispensers had stubbornly resisted all efforts to repair them. Fresh food and even preserved goods had been in short supply in orbit, and shipments from the surface had been pre-empted by higher-priority cargo. In desperation, Eisen had ordered a new set of food dispensers, but through some bureaucratic cock-up we had instead been sent two thousand assorted durasteel pots and pans. Fortunately, a number of the crew--including me-- managed to scrounge supplies, and gradually food supplanted money as ship's currency.

On the bright side, the yard crews had restored life support in part of the crew quarters and refurbished several of the double cabins. Captain Eisen held a lottery in which eight-hour shifts were randomly assigned to individual crew members. A lucky winner could take a cabin alone and get a good night's sleep, or invite a companion of the appropriate sex and get a good night's, er, whatever. We had enough berths for each of us to get a cabin at least once a week, not counting invitations. Cabin shifts soon rivaled food as legal tender aboard ship.

*

Having squared away our new pilots, arranged training schedules, and set up the CAP, I headed for the galley. I wanted to sleep for a few hours before Confed showed up, and I had noticed that I seemed to sleep better with some of the ship's unappetizing fare in my stomach.

Most of the crew was sacked out, leaving the galley nearly deserted. Among the few present was Maniac, who was sitting alone and forlornly drawing cards from a deck. I made my selections and took my "food" to his table.

Maniac drew a card and contemplated it thoughtfully. "It's my fault, you know," he said.

"Fault? Dammit, Maniac, what have you done this time?"

He looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "Vagabond. My fault. If I hadn't lost that hand, he wouldn't have gone."

"What in heaven's name are you talking about?"

"I heard him talking in the locker room. He thought it was his lucky day, that nothing could happen to him. I shouldn't have let him win. I should have played better."

I had to laugh; I couldn't help it. "Maniac, you dope, as if you could ever hope to beat Vagabond! Besides, he was the only one who could have pulled off that mission. He would have gone anyway, lucky day or not."

He was obviously unconvinced, so I took a different approach. "Look, Maniac, if you want to do something for Vagabond, why don't you send that money you owe him to his fiancee? They were never married, so she doesn't get his death benefits, or sweepstakes, or anything. And add a few words about how much you admired him. I'm sure it would be a comfort to her."

Maniac perked up immediately. "Good idea, Ace! I'll send a trans that'll make him look like a saint! Er, but I can't send the money. I already paid up."

What? Had Maniac turned over a new leaf? Usually getting money out of him was like dragging a medal out of Admiral Tolwyn. "Already?"

"Yeah. I wrote him a check and stuck it in the coffin."

"Well, good for y--Maniac!"

*

Confed's Third Fleet jumped into Orestes about two hours ahead of schedule. No doubt they had moved up their timetable when Orestes IV reported our early departure. I prayed that Confed Intel wouldn't suspect their codes and communications had been compromised.

It would be a near thing, but none of the incoming ships were close enough to catch us before the jump point. Nevertheless, we kept up our CAP and scout activity, just in case. Meanwhile, my senior pilots and I mercilessly drilled our new fighter jocks.

During one of the breaks, I took my Wombats--both newbies and vets--to the galley for chow and drill debriefing. As it turned out, however, we didn't do much debriefing; the holovid was working again, and Lt. SoSo had piped in a recent broadcast of the TCN Nightly News.

Barbara Dahl, beautiful as ever, was anchoring. "In other news, the Terran Confederation has lost one of its greatest heroes. Captain Aaro Gant, holder of the Dissembly Medal of Honor, was killed in combat with Border Worlds forces." A 3-D still image of Gant appeared behind Barbara. "When told of Gant's death, Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn said, 'He was a man I always had faith in. He was a man who defined honor and dedication. He was a man who will be deeply missed.'"

So I had killed that bastard Gant in my raid on Lexington. Surprisingly, I had mixed feelings about it. Personality aside, for most of his life he had lived up to the finest ideals of the Confederation. Yet, at the end, he became a traitor to all he had believed in. What could have twisted him so?

Barbara continued, "Captain Gant's ship, the TCS Lexington, has just arrived at Confederation Starbase Halcyon after suffering heavy damage in combat with the Union Militia. We now go live to correspondent Dam Blather. Dam?"

I smiled, noting the subtle way she twisted Blather's name into an epithet. Apparently the rivalry between those two was worse than ever.

A section of the starbase interior appeared next to Barbara's desk. Blather was standing in the foreground, near one of the base's main locks. He took over from Barbara with practiced smoothness.

"Barbie, any moment now, Starbase Halcyon will welcome the first of the wounded from the TCS Lexington. Naval spokespersons have informed us that the carrier was ambushed by overwhelming forces under the infamous turncoat Christopher Blair. The Lexington was assisting Union forces against local pirates when-- Wait! I think they're coming now!"

The holocams zoomed in on the lock, where injured crewmen were now entering the station. It was a terrible sight. Some were able to walk--or hobble--but most were being pushed on grav stretchers, swathed in blood-stained dressings. Many were moaning in pain, or worse, lying ominously still.

I was horrified. Despite my efforts to minimize casualties, I had killed or wounded many of my old shipmates! As I stared, heartsick, at the display, a few of Intrepid's crew turned and looked at me accusingly; they knew what it was like on the wrong end of a torpedo attack.

Blather lowered his voice and continued gravely, "The Lexington suffered over two hundred casualties in the ambush. We haven't been allowed to shoot aboard ship, but the damage is said to be exten--" He paused as a naval officer whispered in his ear.

"Barbie," he said excitedly, "I've just learned from the base PR Officer that we'll be allowed to interview--exclusively--members of the crew!" When he thought the cam was off him, he stuck out his tongue at the other media types pressing against the cordon of Marines around the lock area. Too late, the holocam switched to the Lexington crewmen approaching the press. They were escorted by two beefy, grim-faced Marines, photon rifles at the ready.

I recognized the Lex people immediately. Leading the way was Lt. Disch, bloodstained regen dressing draped over the left side of her face. Behind her limped Croissant, right arm in a sling, right leg trailing stiffly. Lt. Auer lay on a stretcher, chest wrapped in a bloody dressing. Ensign Watt, seemingly unhurt, pushed the stretcher. I noted with alarm that their guards were cookie-cutter Covert Ops "Marines."

Blather, practically drooling, pushed through the Marine cordon and pounced on Lt. Disch. "Doctor, what was it like during the attack?"

She raised the back of her hand to her forehead, and choked out her story between sobs. "Oh, it was horrible! One moment everything was fine, and the next there were explosions, and the ship was shaking, and there was fire everywhere! The wounded started pouring into sick bay, and I had to treat them, but I was hurt myself, and...and..." With a tiny moan, she collapsed into the arms of the guard behind her. The second guard quickly moved to help her.

The instant the guards were distracted, Croissant removed his sling and waved his arm vigorously at the holocam. He danced a quick little jig, showing his leg injury to be a sham also. At the same time, Lt. Auer whipped out a hand- lettered sign, which read "COVERT OPS!!!," and pointed at the "Marines." Ensign Watt was holding her own sign: "6 dead, 22 wounded." Below the message was a large stylized red heart with a beautifully drawn tiger bursting through the center. She kissed her finger and pressed it to the tiger.

Intrepid's crew leaped to their feet and cheered. After weeks of discouraging news, the Unionists finally saw concrete proof that they had allies in Confed; allies willing to risk their lives to stop the war.

Dressings replaced and signs stashed, my friends assumed their former positions just as Disch theatrically struggled back to her feet. The guards suspected nothing. If the journalists were smart enough to play along, they just might get away with--

"What the devil is going on here!" exclaimed Blather. Shit, that idiot would ruin everything! I watched in horror as he tore away Disch's dressing, revealing the rest of her beautiful--and uninjured--face.

Reacting instantly, the first "Marine" jammed his rifle butt in Blather's gut. As the correspondent doubled over, the guard tried to grab the holocam. The second guard shoved Disch to the deck and pointed his rifle at her.

That was a mistake.

With howls of fury, Lexington's "wounded" shed their fake dressings, leaped off their stretchers, and tackled every guard in sight! Disch was worshipped by every heterosexual male on the Lexington, and they weren't going to stand by while she was manhandled! The guards fought back fiercely, but Lex's "wounded" were reinforced by waves of "dead" crewmen from the ship.

Croissant took down two Marines going for Blather, while the smaller Lt. Auer slammed his stretcher into the one struggling for the holocam. Ensign Watt jumped Disch's tormentor, a trained killer three times her size. For all his combat training, however, he couldn't free himself of the screaming wildcat before Disch went for his groin. As every man in Intrepid's galley winced, he crumpled to the deck in agony.

Blather, somewhat recovered, was yelling hysterically at the cameraman. "Are you getting this? Are you g--Yikes!" He yelped in fear as Disch grabbed him by his lapel.

"Get THIS, moron!" she yelled.

"AAAUUUGGGHHH!" howled Blather. Someone on the base must have cut off the feed at that moment, because the scene froze on a closeup of Dam Blather, face contorted in anguish.

The view switched to Barbara Dahl, who was still watching the frozen frame and trying not to smirk. "Oooo, I'll bet that hurt, Dam!" she said cheerfully.

*

That broadcast gave us a real morale boost, which was good, because we still had a monumental task ahead of us. Despite vigorous training efforts, only half our pilots could be considered combat-ready. Even when the pursuing Confed ships turned back, the pressure was still on. Militia HQ had plans for us as soon as we cleared the Pasqual system, and those plans would undoubtedly involve fighting.

I pushed my pilots relentlessly. When they weren't flying the simulators, they were flying in dogfights against our escorts' fighters. I followed Zelda's lead and hounded them even in the head. Training was halted briefly for the jump to Pasqual, then immediately resumed at an accelerated pace.

I pushed myself as hard as anyone, if only to avoid thinking about my friends from the Lexington. Covert Ops did not take kindly to people who thwarted its plans. On the other hand, with the press now tipped to the charade, I told myself Covert Ops wouldn't dare kill them. When I tried to grab some sleep, however, I had a terrifying dream of Disch being carved up by that knife psycho from the Lexington. It was a relief when Catspaw woke me up with the news that we'd received an SOS.

*

I arrived at CIC out of breath. To my surprise, Maniac was waiting with the Captain. I had no time for questions, however, because Captain Eisen immediately began the briefing.

"Colonel, we've received an SOS from this convoy." He indicated a group of ships nearly four million klicks distant. "They're being pursued by pirates, a Bingo-class frigate apparently modified--"

"--into a hemi-carrier!" I finished. Damn! Shades of the Hellespont system! Where were those damn pirates getting their ships?

"Correct. The convoy's only escort is a frigate and four Dralthi VI fighters."

"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Maniac. "They're CATS?"

Dumb-ass. "Watch the news once in a while, Maniac!" I admonished. "Melek's faction of Kilrathi survivors moved to Pasqual. I hear more are coming all the time." In fact, Zeke and I had followed the career of his former toady with great interest.

Eisen continued, "With Confed's trade embargo, the Kilrathi are the Union's only source of certain key electronic components. Union HQ has ordered us to get those shipments through."

I looked at the display again. "Then we have to go now with whatever we have. Those pirates may already be launching. Who's available to come with me?" I looked at Eisen, but he refused to meet my eyes. Maniac was grinning from ear to ear. Oh no! No! NO!

"Maniac, you're not Banshee-qualified!"

He looked smug as he pointed to the Banshee badge on his chest. "Au contraire, Miami! Flew my solo while you were flat on your back. Come on! Last one there's a Kilrathi!" He dashed out of CIC. I heard a crash out in the companionway, followed by cursing.

I turned to the Captain, pleading, but he just shrugged.

Shit!

*

As I climbed into the cockpit, I noticed something on the seat. It was a paper bag, with holes cut out for eyes and mouth. Zelda's name was written across the top.

I stood on the seat, paralyzed with rage. God DAMN that Maniac! Then I remembered that I had considered the same solution to Zelda's, er, "problem," and my face burned with shame.

"Whatcha got, sweetie?" asked Zelda innocently. She had, as usual, followed me up the ladder.

Quickly I hid the bag behind my back. "Er, nothing, Chief," I said.

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" she cried playfully, grabbing at my arm. Then she saw the bag and froze. Trying to sound casual, she asked, "Major Marshall?"

"Look, Zelda," I said hurriedly, "This was directed at me, not you. Maniac and I have been at each other's throats for--"

She shook her head. "It's all right, dear. Give it to me. I'll add it to my collection." She wore the same neutral expression as in the simulator room, when Maniac insulted her before.

She took the bag and gave me her usual good-bye kiss. I knew Maniac was watching from his cockpit, so this time I kissed her back. It cost me another cut lip, but it was worth it.

I looked over at Maniac. Not to be outdone, he jumped up onto his seat, grabbed Lt. Tennant--who had just handed him his helmet--and held her in a long kiss despite her struggles. When he released her, she aimed a roundhouse right at his nose, but Maniac had already jumped down into the cockpit. Louise missed her target, overbalanced, and fell off the ladder.

*

When we were about halfway to the Kilrathi convoy, Lt. SoSo called us with the Kilrathi comm codes and transponder settings. She added the welcome news that Moose was about fifteen minutes behind us with four more Banshees.

Flying flat-out all the way, we barely arrived in time. As we came into sensor range of the convoy, two groups of incoming fighters showed up on our scopes. The four defending Dralthi were already moving to intercept.

A Kilrathi--a female!--appeared on the comm screen. Even my AI's flat translation couldn't mask the fear in her voice. "Heart of the Tiger! Once again we are in your hands!"

I designated the first group of two Razors and two Arrows. "Direct your Dralthi against this group! We'll take the second!" Less chance of friendly fire if we fought separate actions.

"Hey, Ace!" yelled Maniac. "You're taking us up against two T-bolts and two Arrows!"

"I'll try to cut down the odds, Maniac!" I switched to the general channel. "Hey, Gomers! Knock knock!"

The reply came immediately, but it wasn't what I expected.

"Fuck you!"

Shit! They were Confeds! We'd have to do this the hard way!

"Break and attack, Maniac! Keep those Arrows off my back!"

"Watch and learn, Colonel!" Maniac hit burner and pulled off at an angle to draw the Arrows off.

I stayed at full speed, but kept off burner; my leech needed time to lock. I had to take the leader out with the first shot, or the two of them would wear me down.

Closing fast! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! I swear I'm going strangle that damned missile alarm! Stay on the leader! Gotta launch at close range, don't dare miss! Oh God, those missiles are getting closer! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Steady... Five thousand klicks! Launch! Bam! Shield hit! Roll and pull! Decoys, Blair, decoys! Burner! Miss me, please miss...Hah! Lock broken! Burner off!

Splat! Yeah! The leader's history! Damn, that was easy! Now for his buddy! Turn and-- Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Turn, Blair! Decoy, Blair! Pray, Blair!

OK, missed! Come on, Banshee, let's get on his tail! Haha, he's on a torpedo run against the frigate! He's not afraid of my lasers! OK, asshole, try THIS on for size!

CHUG CHUG CHUG! Damn, I love those leech cannons! I'm taking hits, but he's wallowing like a drunken pig! CHUG CHUG CHUG! Heehee, ignore my Banshee, will you! CHUG CHUG CHUG! Just a couple more--

WhoopwhoopwhoopWHAMMO! My Banshee staggers as if it's been hit by a planet! Momentarily dazed, I yank the controls by sheer instinct. I'm dimly aware of a proximity explosion from a second warhead as I turn. Who the hell--

Ohmygod! It's an Arrow! They must have gotten Maniac! This guy sneaked up without firing his guns, caught me napping! Turn, Blair! Turn, turn, OK, I'm out of his missile envelope, keep going...Hah! He's turning the wrong way! Get on his tail, hit the burner...OK, match speeds and shoot! CHUG CHUG! CHUG CHUG! Hah, he's slowing! CHUG CHUG!

He's limping at a hundred kps, easy target! Now, motherfucker, eat ions! Ploop ploop ploop! Chunks fly off his ship; his starboard wingtip is glowing red hot! Ploop ploop ploop! Ambush me, will you! Ploop ploop! You're gonna die slow, you--shit, he ejected! Get a grip, Blair, pods are off limits. Relax.

I checked readouts and sensors. My aft armor was nearly gone, but all systems were go. The wounded T-bolt was limping off, accompanied by a Razor. Two Dralthi were milling around near the convoy. Maniac was about ten thousand kl--Maniac? MANIAC WAS OK???

I was barely coherent as I screamed, "Maniac, you motherfucker, where the hell were you?"

"Hi, Ace!" he called nonchalantly. "Just chasing down that Arrow. Had to get my kill, ya know! Boy, you wouldn't believe what a hard time I had with HIM! I--"

"You idiot, his pal nearly nailed me!"

Maniac was indignant. "What, that's MY fault? Hey, you took that wimp out, didn't you? Now MY guy, he was really tough! I had to--"

WhoopwhoopwhoopWHAMMOWHAMMO! Blinding light, tremendous double jolt, red lights all over the instrument panel, searing pain in my butt! Again, I react on instinct! Full speed, shift gun power to autorepair, drop decoys, turn like hell!

Check sensors--Where did those two Arrows come fr-- Thank God, Maniac and the Kilrathi are coming--Jesus Christ, THE ARROWS ARE CLOAKING!

Desperately, I drag my Strakha drill out of dusty memory bins. Keep up speed, watch the scope, arm FFs--too bad I don't have any!--and turn, always turn, always a different way!

I alternate between readouts and sensors. I took two FF blasts on my ventral shields and armor. Fragments pierced the floor of the cockpit and the armor of my seat. Both suit and cockpit self-sealed, though; I still have air. The suit should have auto-injected anesthetic and regen drugs, but the pain is growing, not diminishing.

Burner, missiles, decoys, and leech guns are out. Shields and comm are being autorepaired. I love you, you beautiful tough little Banshee!

Arrows on scope! Lock and turn into 'em! Power to guns! Lasers and particle gun barrages bracket the Arrows! Two missiles head for the Dralthis! They must be Kilrah's best, however, because they slip missile lock and return to the fray. The Arrows retreat into cloak again.

Except that I score an ion hit just as one of them disappears. As his shields flash momentarily, I spray the area with scattergun fire. More sparkles! Keep firing, Blair! Flash! Flash! He's pitching up! Flash! Now right! Flash! Flash! His pal uncloaks on my tail, but the Kilrathi pounce on him instantly. Maniac, the jerk, is trying to hit my quarry, and only gets in the way!

Flash! Flash! How long can I keep hitting him? During the War, my best string on a Strakha was three. Power fading, switch shields to guns. Flash! Glowing debris appears out of nowhere! Flash! Hah! He's reappearing! Must have damaged the cloaking gear!

"Maniac, switch to leech guns, we need--

BangbangbangKABOOM!

"--him intact...Damn you, Maniac!"

"Hey, just doing my job, Ace. Let's see, that's TWO kills for me, ONE for you. Any time you want lessons..."

"Fuck you, Maniac!" I checked sensors again. The second Arrow took damage from the Dralthi and re-cloaked. He probably headed for home, too.

The Kilrathi comm officer called me. "Thank you, Heart of the Tiger. We owe you our lives. Again."

I grimaced, fighting down the pain. "You're welcome. S-stay on course for our task force. We're g-going back to our ship, but m-more of our fighters will be here any minute." I signed off.

Maniac commed me again. "Gee, Ace, you look pretty shot-up. But don't worry, Mama Maniac will nursemaid you home. Haha ha!"

"I'm OK, Maniac, it's not as bad as it looks. You go on ahead and prep Skunk Squadron for a strike on that pirate frigate."

"OK, Ace, it's your coffin. Last one back's a rotten Colonel!" He lit burner and took off.

Good riddance. According to regs, I should have kept him with me, but right now I just didn't need another pain in the ass!

*

An hour later, I was sorry I'd let him go. My wounds were minor and blood loss minimal, but suit sealant had gotten into them and they hurt like hell. Two manual doses of cyclomorphedrine barely took the edge off the pain; I dared not try more. I longed for the anesthetic effects of Maniac's "Yo' Mama" jokes.

I couldn't rest, even though the constant pain was wearing me down; autopilot was flaky and autorepair couldn't fix it. Finally, as I had so done many times before, I called up my memories of Jeanette. Like a guardian angel, she soothed my pain and led me home.

*

"Nice work, Colonel."

SoSo's voice was so cold that I shivered involuntarily--just like in that damn computer room. Would she never forgive me for that mission?

"You have cl--"

"Lieutenant," I gasped. "Call the m-medics. I'm hurt--"

She regarded me with disgust. "Yeah, right! Whatever!"

Shit, she didn't believe me. "Check the readouts, d-dammit! I'm really--"

She shook her head in amazement. "You are some piece of work, Colonel! Do you really think it's funny to hurt people who care about you? Well you can go to hell!" She switched off.

Damn damn damn!

*

I managed a creditable landing; I even managed to nurse my crippled bird into the correct maintenance bay. After popping the canopy, however, I was just too damn worn out to do more. I sat motionless, trying not to provoke more pain.

Zelda's head popped up beside the cockpit. "Great flying, stud! Come on down and take a bow!" Then she saw the blood on the seat.

"Medic!" she screamed. "Get a stretcher!" She carefully removed my helmet, then gently cuddled my head to her--well, technically it was her bosom, but it felt more like a washboard. Her murmured endearments, however, were surprisingly soothing.

I must have passed out for a minute, because the next thing I heard was Hulk's voice. "Move, Zelda. Hulk get Colonel." As if in a dream, I felt myself floating effortlessly out of the cockpit.

Unfortunately, blood clots, sweat, and sealant had effectively glued my butt to the seat. As Hulk ripped me loose, I came wide awake.

"Yeeooowww! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Hulk slid down the ladder smoothly and set me on the grav stretcher.

"No, Hulk, not on my back! Not on my--yeeooowww!"

"Oops. Hulk sorry." He flipped me over.

"Oof!"

Zelda knelt beside me. "Courage, my love. You'll be in sick bay in no time. Forceps will take care of you."

Yes, I thought hopefully. Forceps will take--Forceps? FORCEPS?

"Nooooooo!"

End of Chapter 16

Previews from Chapter 17:

"Oh, that's OK, Colonel. I don't mind a little raw man-meat."

"Can it be so simple? The answer that has eluded us for generations?"

"SSSHHHIIITTT!"

Chapter 17

Zelda got me to sick bay in record time. Forceps, alerted by the techs, met us just inside. Cheerful as ever, he helped Zelda take me into the surgery. They raised the grav stretcher and Forceps easily heaved me onto the table.

"Good thing yer such a shrimp, kid!" he said.

"Oof! Who are you calling a--ow!"

Forceps examined the flight suit readouts. "Yer lucky, kid. No vital area shit, but I'll bet yer ass--get it?--it's pretty painful."

"Brilliant deduction, Holmes. I had--ow!--one autodose of regen, and three of CMD, but the pain just got worse. I--"

"Hell, kid, that wasn't cyclomorphedrine!" He turned on the table's sterilizer field. "Damn bureaucrats at the dockyard only delivered two hundred doses of the stuff!" He reached for a laser scalpel. "I'm saving it for emergencies."

"WHAT? Well what's in the suit medkits?"

"Tylenol." He used the scalpel to cut away my suit and uniform, starting at my neck.

Tylenol? I buried my face in my hands. Why me, God?

When he had finished slitting my clothes, Forceps put away the scalpel and sprayed solvent on my hindquarters. As the sealant dissolved, the sting was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Zelda knelt in front of me and took my hands. Boy, for once it was nice to have her--Zelda? Shit, Forceps was exposing my, er, wounds in front of her!

"Um, Zelda," I said hastily. "If you d-don't mind, I'd rather you waited outside, OK?"

She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not leaving you, Blairbear!"

"Good!" said Forceps. "You can help me get his clothes off."

"Uh, no! Just wait out--" She ignored me. Shit! I blushed at the indignity of being undressed by my crew chief.

With the sealant dissolved, my clothes came off easily enough. Forceps washed me down with sterilizer fluid, which also cleaned off the dried blood. Zelda gasped, but whether it was my buns of steel or the steel in my buns that impressed her, I couldn't say. I only know the pain subsided somewhat when the sealant was gone. I nearly sobbed with relief.

"OK, kid," said Forceps. "Nearly done. Gonna yank out that shrapnel, patch you up, 'n put you to bed."

Oh good, I could use some sl--er, yank?

"Yeeoowww!" The metal fragments were small and shallow, but they burned like red-hot coals on the way out. "Ow! Ow!" Zelda came back and held my hands again. Desperately, I tried to distract myself by counting her pimples. One,two--"Ow!" One, two--"Ow!"--seven, three...

The door slid open and Panties stepped in.

Jesus Christ, God, what did I ever do to you? "Goddammit, Panties, can't you see I'm--"

"Oh, that's OK, Colonel," she said cheerfully. "I don't mind a little raw man-meat."

"Panties, will you get the fuck out of--Ow!" Shit.

"Just wanted to report, Colonel. Moose ran into another wave of pirates."

"Oh?" That got my attention. "How did it--Ow!--go?"

"Well sir, it was--" She glanced at my butt. "--pretty HAIRY there for awhile. Hee hee! But he waxed two and didn't lose anybody. I don't think they'll try again; Intrepid's too close."

Well at least that was--Ow!--good news.

Panties left to supervise the search for the pirate frigate. Wounds dressed,but weak as a kitten, I was helped into a gown and then into bed. Zelda stayed with me, massaging muscles sore from hours tensed against the pain. Lulled by her soothing touch, I fell asleep in minutes.

*

I woke slowly, with a wonderful feeling of well-being. As my eyes gradually focused, I could make out Panties sitting next to the bed.

"Hi, Tamara," I said, smiling lazily.

"Hi, sleepyhead," she replied, matching my smile. Damn, she should smile more often. It lit up her whole face.

"Sorry I yelled at you earlier, Tamara. I was just--"

"It's OK, Chris. I've been there myself."

Her smile lasted another moment, and then she was all business. "Colonel, I just stopped by in case you were up. Turkey and Skunk Squadrons took out that pursuing frigate; no losses. The cat convoy has joined with us, and the Kilrathi commodore has just come aboard. He's with the Captain in CIC if you want to talk with him." She indicated a fresh uniform hanging beside my bed.

I was fully awake in an instant. "Why didn't you say so, Panties?" I jumped out of bed, ignoring my not-quite-healed wounds, and reached for the uniform.

"I, uh, have to get back, Colonel," said Panties. She hesitated a second before heading for the door.

I stopped dressing to watch her as she left. Strange, for a minute there she had seemed unusually...friendly.

*

I made my way to CIC as quickly as possible. SoSo was working at her console, surrounded by Eisen, Hulk, and...Melek!

Memories flooded through my mind. After Melek's surrender, I had remained on his dreadnought for nearly two weeks. Since the Kilrathi Empire was now leaderless, technically Melek could only surrender his own clan. His was now the largest surviving clan, however--the Emperor's was mostly wiped out on Kilrah--so he was able to arrange an armistice. One by one, the other clan leaders returned to Kilrah's ruins to offer their own capitulation, but only tome, personally.

During my time aboard, I used all my powers of persuasion on the clan leaders, arguing against the policies that had led them to ruin, and touting Melek as the one to lead them into the future. About half the clans agreed; the others scattered into the galaxy or returned to the ways of war. Over the next few months, Confed would hunt the latter down like vermin.

I took full advantage of this golden opportunity to observe the cats as never before. To be sure, there was all of the savagery and stupidity that I had expected, but I also saw much of the compassion, altruism, and honor that I had found in Hobbes and his small band of defectors. That final night with the Kilrathi, Melek and I talked of his plans for his people into the wee hours,and the next morning we parted as friends.

Back among my own kind, I interceded with Confed on behalf of the defeated cats, much to the amazement of my shipmates on the Victory. Thank God I had insisted the cats be allowed to retain a few frigates and light fighters for defense. Now these were all they had to oppose the surprisingly well-armed pirates.

I came back to the present as Melek advanced to meet me.

"Heart of the Tiger," he said, with a tremor in his voice. "Never did I expect our paths to cross again."

"Melek, my friend." We met halfway and began the ancient Kilrathi ritual of the Heroes' Greeting, as adapted for humans. Melek bent over to scratch my back, while I reached up to scratch behind his ears. His contented purring was soon accompanied by my own cries of delight.

"Aaaahhhh, just a bit left, Melek...a bit more...ooooooh!"

Eisen, growing increasingly impatient, finally intervened. "AHEM! Gentlemen,if I may interrupt this little scratch-fest..."

Reluctantly, we parted. Melek flicked his ears and shook his head vigorously,scattering fur all over. I followed him into the comm alcove, feeling all warm and tingly. Damn, nobody could scratch a human back like a Kilrathi!

"Now, Colonel," said Captain Eisen, "if I have your FULL attention, I'll bring you up to date. Melek here has been telling us of the increasing pirate activity in this system. Recently, however, the Kilrathi have obtained evidence that more than mere piracy is at work here." He nodded to SoSo, who activated the holodisplay.

The view was of space, with a scattering of stars. Suddenly a gray fighter—of a type unfamiliar to me--appeared in the field of view. There was a blinding flash, and then the stars were tumbling rapidly off the display's upper bound.

SoSo paused the rec. "This was taken by a Dralthi guncam," she said. "It miraculously survived the destruction of its fighter and continued recording. Since it was tumbling, I've edited out everything but the frames when it was pointing at the convoy." She resumed playback.

The ships of the convoy were shown advancing--jerkily because of the editing--past the guncam. Another gray fighter zoomed into view and sent a round,flattish object tumbling toward one of the transports. The ship appeared at first to be unharmed. Then at least one airlock must have opened, because debris and bodies began spewing from amidships. The ship gradually lost power and began tumbling end over end. A moment later, the ship passed out of view. SoSo paused again.

Melek continued the story. "The next day, a frigate arrived on the scene. The ships themselves were undamaged, but all aboard were dead from decompression or extreme exhaustion. Because of the ion trails the frigate found, we assumed a capship was involved, until we found the guncam."

I looked at the Captain. "That's probably the same weapon that was used on the Amadeus and the Annabel Lee. Remember the capship ion trails we found?"

He nodded. "Now watch this, Colonel."

As the playback resumed, another gray fighter flew into view. It stopped in relation to the guncam, popped a mine, and surfed away on the blast wave. SoSo reversed and paused just before the fighter left the field of view.

"Shades of Orlando!" I exclaimed. "I've seen that before!"

"Hulk see too." We all looked at Hulk in surprise.

"Where?" I asked.

"Near end of war, Hulk command squadron. Rookie surf mine blast all the time, against Hulk's order. Hulk try to court-martial, but Covert Ops take rookie away." He thought for a minute. "Call himself Theether. Never talk much, butal ways carry G.E.D. certificate; very proud of it."

"Of his high school equivalency diploma?" asked SoSo incredulously.

Hulk shrugged. "He only pilot Hulk ever see, can surf mine shock wave."

"Then this is it!" I said excitedly. "This ties Covert Ops to three acts of terrorism! We can--"

"Not so fast, Sherlock!" warned SoSo. "Watch!" She unpaused again.

A second gray fighter flew into view and performed the same stunt, this time with a half twist.

"OK," I said hopefully, "if only two pilots can do it..."

Two more fighters showed up and surfed off a single mine blast, one with a full twist, the other with a backflip.

"You were saying, Colonel?" said SoSo dryly.

I looked accusingly at Hulk, who hung his head in shame.

"Hulk lie," he admitted. "Hulk only pilot in squadron, could not do trick. "He lay his head on SoSo's shoulder and began sobbing.

The Captain looked like he was about to join him.

Hastily, I said, "Well, I've got to check on flight operations! Hulk, why don't you give Melek a tour of the ship?"

Hulk raised his head and wiped his eyes. "No! Hulk not do! Hulk hate--"

"Rabbits!" I said desperately, "I'll tell you more about the rabbits! OK?"

Hulk brightened immediately. "Hulk do!" He started for the door. "Here, kitty!" he called to Melek.

As they left, two cleaning droids came in and went for the fur on the deck.

*

I met Panties in the Control Bay. Skunk and Turkey Squadrons were returning, to be met with the usual excitement and hoopla. I took Panties down to the flight deck to help me debrief the crews.

I found most of Turkey Squadron grouped around Tina and Archie, who were locked in an embrace, as usual. I shook hands all around and took some preliminary reports. The Turkeys had made one torpedo hit and accounted for two Razors.

Zelda intercepted me on the way to Skunk Squadron's bays. "Oh, Honeyblair, you're all right!" she cried, nearly squeezing the breath out of me. Out of gratitude for all she'd done, I let her kiss me a couple of times before I fended her off. I tasted blood from at least two cuts.

"Um, Chief, I want to thank you for--"

"It's OK, dear. I love taking care of you. But right now, I have to service these birds." She took a small box out of her hip pocket. "Could you give this to Major Marshall for me?"

I accepted the box reluctantly. "Er, Chief, it's not, er..."

"Explosive?" She giggled. "No, sweetie, it's harmless. But it's something he really needs!" She hopped on a nearby weapons loader and drove off. I went to find Maniac.

Said pilot was, as usual, boasting of his exploits to any and all who would listen. He leaned casually against his front landing gear and spun his tale.

"--so there I was, way ahead of my fighter cover, frigate in my sights, and two Razors on my tail! I decided to--Hey, Ace! Come for your lesson? Ha ha ha!"

"No, Maniac," I replied calmly. "Just dropping off a present from Chief Morgenstern." I held out the little box.

He was instantly on guard. "From 'beaver-bite?'" He backed away about half a meter. "Er, you open it, Ace," he said suspiciously.

I shrugged, pulled off the top, and looked inside. Without saying a word, I held out the box and turned it upside down.

Two small durasteel ball bearings fell out and bounced noisily on the deck. The onlookers burst into raucous laughter.

"Guess she knows what YOU need, Maniac! Hahahaha!"

"Bigger than yours, that's for sure! Heeheehee!"

"Hey, Maniac, can I polish your balls? Hawhawhaw!"

"Whatsamatter? Did yours RUST? Harharhar!"

Maniac looked around in bewilderment. "What?" he cried. "What the fuck are you--" As realization hit, Maniac turned the color of a ripe tomato. "That damned chipmunk BITCH!" he screamed, kicking his Avenger's landing gear. The laughter promptly redoubled.

Maniac stomped off amid taunts and catcalls. A deckhand had retrieved Zelda's ball bearings, and I held them up, calling after Maniac, "Hey, Major! You forgot your balls!"

*

After debriefing the pilots--except Maniac--Panties and I adjourned to the galley to plan our next move against the pirates. To spice up the tasteless food, I brought along some of the soy sauce I had purchased at the Orestes IV Kwik-E-Mart. We chose an out-of-the-way table and sat down--with considerable care on my part, of course.

Catwalk showed up a few minutes after we began eating. He seemed to have something on his mind, so I invited him to sit with us. With the impatience of the young, he got right to the point.

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, sir, but when I was growing up, I dreamed of nothing but fighting the Kilrathi. How can I forget all that and help them out now?"

I considered my answer carefully. "Correction, Catwalk. Your dreams were of fighting the ENEMY. That's EXACTLY what you did today, when your squadron nailed that pirate frigate. Even better, now you have the chance to win a new ally for your race. What better way to fulfill your childhood dreams?"

Catwalk was taken aback. "I-I guess I never thought about it that way, sir. "He poked aimlessly at his food, clearly confused.

"Well think about it, partner. And let me know what you decide, because I have to know if I can count on you." To show there were no hard feelings, I loaned him my precious bottle of soy sauce.

I noticed Panties was looking at me the same way she had in the infirmary. "What about you, Panties? Do you think we should be helping the Kilrathi?"

"All those years," she said, a faraway look in her eyes. "All those missions. I devoted my life to knocking Kilrathi out of the sky." She looked me in the eyes. "But I never liked the killing, the way Hulk does. I did it because I had to. Yeah, I want to help the Kilrathi. Maybe...maybe we can build something good out of that awful war."

It was only then that I realized what had changed between us. Despite my attempts to avert the impending war, she had still suspected the fierce Heart of the Tiger was, deep down, just another killer. Only when I risked my ass--literally--for my former enemies could she finally believe in me.

Had I found a kindred spirit at long last? Well, whether I had or not, the possibility was certainly worth pursuing.

"That's good, Tamara. Um, here, have some more soy sauce."

*

We were just finishing our meal when Hulk brought Melek into the galley. Poor Hulk looked worn out, so I signaled for him to leave and get some sleep. I excused myself to my companions and headed over to where Melek was waiting. I had some very important news for him.

Maniac was making some selections from the food dispenser. Noticing Melek for the first time, he set down his tray and immediately offered his hand to the astonished Kilrathi.

"Malloc, right? Hi, I'm the Maniac! No doubt you've heard of me." He grinned, took Melek's paw, and pumped it vigorously. "I'm sure TALES of my exploits have traveled far and wide. Get it? Tails? Ha ha ha! Remnants of my enemies LITTER the void, and I'm not LYIN'! Ha ha ha! Litter? Lion? Oh, I crack myself up!" Just then he noticed Lt. Tennant, Tech Yokely, and Lt. Mourne at a nearby table. "Well, gotta go, Malloc old tomcat. I smell my favorite PREY. Watch the mighty hunter bag a lovely gazelle!"

Fascinated, Melek watched Maniac as he set his tray down at the girls' table."Remarkable!" he said.

"What is, Melek?" I asked, coming up on his left.

"How closely your menial apes resemble your own species. If they had any intelligence at all, they would be almost indistinguishable from humans."

"Uh, yeah, remarkable resemblance."

"Tell me," he said curiously. "Can they breed with humans?"

I watched as the girls hastily picked up their trays and left. Lt. Tennant dumped the remains of her meal on Maniac's head.

"No," I answered. "Fortunately not. With luck, in another generation they'll be very, very extinct."

At the word 'extinct,' Melek slumped visibly. "That, I fear, will soon be the fate of my own race," he said sadly. He looked out the viewport, past the transpex, past the stars themselves. "So few females left...so few. Already the young males despair of ever mating, and fight... The old ways will return,and this time we'll be--" He stopped, suddenly aware he was saying too much.

This was exactly the subject I wanted to discuss. "Melek," I said gently, "I know about the five-to-one birth problem...and its consequences."

He was flabbergasted. "H-how do you-- That is our most closely guarded--"

"I also have the solution."

That one really floored him. He staggered, leaning on me for support. "Wh-what? Impossible! Our scientists have been working for hundreds..."

When he had recovered somewhat, I invited the feline giant closer. As Melek bent down, I whispered into his ear.

This time he nearly fainted. Straining to support his bulk, I helped him to a chair. "Can it be so simple?" he gasped. "The answer that has eluded us for generations?" He grabbed his head as if to keep it from exploding. "Could we truly have been so stupid?"

Actually, I wouldn't put any stupidity past the dull-witted felines, but I didn't say it. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Melek," I reassured him. "You were just too close to the problem, too set in your ways."

With an effort, Melek got hold of himself. "In my heart, I feel the truth of what you say. But I beg you: how is it you know so much of Kilrathi biology?"

I dared not tell the truth. If other Kilrathi knew Zeke was alive, he'd be hunted to the ends of the universe. Zeke's descendants would one day rejoin Melek's, but for now there was too much bad blood between them.

"Um, well, Melek, you have to know these things when you're a farmer."

He nodded sagely. "Of course, of course." He stood and placed his paws on my shoulders. "For this you will become our greatest hero, as you are already humanity's. The Kilrathi owe you a debt we can never repay."

Hmm, speaking of payment... "Actually, my friend, perhaps there is something you can do for me."

"Name it!" he said excitedly. "My life? My brother-in-law? Anything!"

"No, no, nothing so drastic. Some of the ships attacking your convoy carried cloaking devices. If we meet any more cloakers, we could lose a lot of pilots. Did your scientists have a way, even experimental, to detect cloaked ships?"

He thought for a moment. "I am aware of certain experiments in that direction, attempts to anticipate Terran countermeasures and defeat them in advance. One of the scientists from that project is aboard my transport. I shall have him contact your technical staff."

"Thanks, Melek." This might go a long way toward convincing the cat-haters aboard that the Kilrathi were useful allies.

*

I stole quietly among the sleeping crew in the storage hold. Knowing the solution to Melek's problem was one thing, but putting it into practice was another. To have the best possible chance for success, he'd need one of the mementos I had brought with me all the way from Nephritis 2.

As I approached the bunk I usually used, I noted two figures moving under the blanket. Though their cries were muffled, I could tell the voices belonged to Tina and Archie. I hastily retrieved the memento from my kit without disturbing the amorous couple.

As I stood up to leave, I noticed a disconsolate Hulk sitting nearby. Worried, I went to see if I could cheer him up.

Hulk was holding a photon pistol next to his cheek. In one smooth motion, he took a power cell and slammed it into the grip. "Oooo, yeah!" He closed his eyes and smiled with a pleasure that was almost sexual.

Hearing me approach, he reluctantly put down the pistol. "Hulk not like Kilrathi, Colonel. Hulk fly for Kilrathi if Blair order, but Hulk much rather kill cats. Kill! Hurt! Crush! Mutil--"

"OK, Hulk, I get the picture!" Sheesh. "Look, big guy, are you sure you've thought this out? Maybe you have something in common with the cats. For example, do you know what Kilrathi like most?"

"Hulk know! Hulk know!" He was like an eager kid in school. "Killing! Cats like killing!"

"Right! Now what does Hulk like most?"

He thought hard. "Killing! Hulk like killing!"

"So Hulk and Kilrathi like the same things, right? How can you hate someone who's just like you?"

This time he thought really hard. "Ooooh, Hulk head hurt...Blair right, Hulk same as Kilrathi! Hulk help Kilrathi after all. Colonel point Hulk, Hulk shoot! Bang! Kapow! Ratatatat--"

"Thanks, Hulk, I knew you'd see reason." I turned to go.

"Blair not tell Hulk more about rabbits?"

I sighed. A promise was a promise. I sat on the bunk next to Hulk, casually taking and unloading the pistol. "OK, last time we went over how you need at least two, one male, one--"

"Kilrathi like bunnies, too?" asked Hulk curiously.

"Uh, yeah, I understand they do."

Hulk wriggled with pleasure, pleased to have found something else he and the cats had in common.

Yeah, Hobbes had once told me they preferred their rabbits in cream sauce, garnished with human testicles.

*

I arrived at the Control Bay just too late to catch Melek; his shuttle was already leaving for his transport. Pocketing my memento, I went to CIC to check in with the Captain. Panties and I were certain the pirates would soon graduate from commerce raiding to a major attack on one of the Kilrathi worlds,and I wanted to discuss strategy.

SoSo and Eisen were huddled together in the comm alcove. I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt, but Eisen waved me over. "Vice-Admiral Willful is in this system--" He stopped and sniffed the air. "Colonel, is that soy sauce I smell?" he asked hopefully.

"Er, no, sir. Cologne." Poor Captain Eisen had visibly lost weight on the ship's bland diet, and I longed to share my stash with him. But I'd need all my goodies if I hoped to court Panties, or any other woman on the ship for that matter. Except Zelda, of course. For her I needed shark repellant.

Captain Eisen coughed to cover his disappointment. "Er, the Admiral is here in Pasqual to assess the situation with the Kilrathi, Colonel. We could use your expertise."

I looked at the display. A husky, crew-cut man apparently in his sixties was sitting at a table playing cards with several other officers. Most were in their underwear. They revealed their cards and one of the women removed her bra. Vice-Admiral Willful took a long drag on his cigar and pounded the table in appreciation.

SoSo turned green and raced to the porta-potty. Judging by the sounds I heard inside, she'd be in there quite a while.

"Er, ahem," said Captain Eisen discreetly.

Willful threw in his cards. "Sorry for the interruption, Captain. What were you saying?" He reached for a shotglass of yellow-brown liquid and downed it in one gulp.

The Captain nudged me a little closer. "Admiral Willful, you know who this man is."

Willful squinted and leaned forward, searching. "Where? Behind the shrimp?"

Shrimp? "Er, I'm Colonel Christopher Blair, also known as the Heart of the Tiger. Ah, no offense, sir, but what Border World moron made you an admiral?"

The Admiral looked at me in surprise for a moment, then burst out laughing."Haw haw haw! I like yer style, kid!" He pounded the table again. "I spent forty years as a cop--vice squad. Came out to the Border Worlds to retire. Thought I'd try out a few of those vices I'd been bustin' people for, heh heh. Well, then these--whoops!"

He leaned back in his chair and looked under the table. "Not so hard there, honey! That's a precision instrument! Har har! Ooooh, that's better!"

Willful looked at me again. "Then these troubles started, and they needed people to lead all the Militia they were mobilizing, so they dragged me out of retirement. One look at my haircut and they were going to make me a captain, but I said, hell, I had to be a VICE-admiral, because I had the experience forit! Haw haw haw!"

Seeing my dismay, Captain Eisen hastened to reassure me. "He's quite competent, Colonel. One time I worked, ah, undercover with the Admiral in the red light district of Port Aphrodite, on Fornik VIII."

"Yeah, I remember, haw haw!" Willful picked up his cards, examined them a moment, and discarded two. "Took us two days to sober him up, Colonel, and a week to get rid of the crabs! Hahahaha!"

I looked at Eisen with new respect. Modest as ever, he hastily changed the subject. "Er, Admiral Willful, what happened to the Marines we were supposed to meet at Orestes?"

Willful looked up from his cards. "Eh? Marines?" A woman in heavy makeup and a decidedly non-reg uniform appeared and whispered in his ear. Willful smiled at Eisen. "Oh, Marines. Heh heh. Er, your bunch was sidetracked, but we got--heehee--we got some real GOOD ones for you! Har har! They'll rendezvous with your task force shortly."

The card players laid down their hands again. Willful cursed and removed his T-shirt, revealing a thick mat of gray chest hair. SoSo, who had just staggered out of the porta-potty, hastily covered her mouth and stumbled back in.

Eisen broke the connection and turned to me. "Colonel, the Admiral believes the pirates will attempt an attack on Pasqual X, to take out the Union's supply of specialized electronics at the source."

"Panties and I concur, sir."

"Very well. I want you to patrol the approaches to the planet. Intercept any attacks, then find those pirates and wipe them out before we get there. And detail four fighters to escort these transports to planetary orbit."

I saluted. Yes, sir!"

SoSo climbed slowly out of the porta-potty, closed the door, and leaned heavily against it. I took a step toward her, hoping she'd let me help, but when I saw her glare I hastily left CIC to brief my pilots.

*

The briefing was, well, brief. I handed out patrol assignments to the squadron commanders and assigned our escort frigates to fly CAP for the task force and the cat convoy. I then took Wombat Squadron in hand and laid out our missions.

"Who are you flying with, sir?" asked Moose. He seemed disappointed to be assigned an Orestes III rookie, a young guy whose callsign was Squirrel.

"I have a hunch this sector is the tough one, Moose. No reflection on your skill, but I need a special kind of idiot with me on this one. Good luck!"

I watched the Wombats file out of the ready room, then went to pick up my idiot--er, wingman.

*

The storage hold was nearly deserted, which was good, because I was going to wake up everyone in it. I stopped just under Primate's nest and yelled up at the overhead.

"Primate! Mission! Come down! Now!"

Captain Dean McCall stuck his head over the edge of his nest. His shoulders were bare. "Sorry, sir, I'm busy!"

Marsupial's head popped out next to Primate's. She was bleary-eyed, her hair was tousled, and her shoulders were also bare. Between flying for Panties and satisfying Primate's, er, urges, she was obviously getting little or no sleep.

I held up one of the bananas I'd bought on Orestes IV.

Primate exploded into action. "Illberightdownsir!" He disappeared, and I heard a furious rustling of clothing. Marsupial mouthed a silent "Thank you"to me, and also disappeared--or maybe she just passed out.

*

By all accounts, Primate had taken to the Banshee like he'd taken to trees,before his short Union career had been interrupted by his wound and Intrepid's banana shortage. I prayed his layoff hadn't blunted his skills.

As we passed his Banshee, I tossed him his customary preflight banana, and he swarmed up into the cockpit to devour it. At my own fighter, I let Zelda get in a couple of good kisses before I tore myself out of her arms and climbed into the ship.

As I completed preflight, I commed SoSo. "Ready to launch, Intrepid."

"One moment, Earthworm; one of the techs has slipped on a banana peel... OK, you're clear to launch, sir." She cut off with none of the customary "Good luck" or "Good hunting" sendoffs. Damn, she was still pissed at me.

*

We were nearly two hours into the mission, patrolling near a Kilrathi orbital defense station, when we first made contact.

"We got company!" warned Primate. I checked my scope. Hmm, these guys looked friendly...

"Cancel that, sir," said Primate. "Union fighters, Union transponder codes."

"Yeah, but they're not from Intrepid. Is Admiral Willful sending us some reinforcements? Form on my wing, Primate. Let's check these guys out."

As we got closer, we could make out two Avengers and two Banshees. The lead Avenger commed me.

"Colonel Blair. Hyena here. Vice-Admiral Willful sends his greetings. We're here to reinforce the defense station. You can go now."

I was suspicious. Wouldn't Willful have notified us of reinforcements? On the other hand, he certainly had a lot of, er, distractions. Maybe he forgot. I debated back and forth, as the strangers approached closer and closer.

Dammit, how could I be sure? There wasn't time to contact Intrepid. There must be some--of course!

I commed the lead Avenger. "Say, Hyena," I said casually. "Knock knock."

Hyena was annoyed. "This is no time for games, Earthworm."

SHIT! "Break, Primate!" I screamed. "They're Confeds!" Damn, where did Covert Ops get so many Union fighters?

No time to think! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Missiles headed for both Primate and me! Burner! Decoys! Turn, dammit! Oh shit, Primate's hit! WHAMMO! I'M hit! Ventral shields down, ventral armor gone! Turn! Burner off!

Get on that Confed Banshee's tail! Ploop ploop ploop! Hits!

"Aaaaah!" KABOOM! Oh God, Primate's dead! He didn't have a chance! My fault, my fault! OK, Banshee, die! Ploop ploop ploop! Leech locked, but you're dying with ions in your gut, asshole! Ploop ploop! KABOOM! That's for you, Primate!

Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoys! Losing lock--whoopwhoopwhoop! More missiles! Use more decoys! Bam! Bam! Taking laser hits! Turn, Blair! WHAMMO! Massive jolt, instruments going crazy, cracks in the canopy! Missiles unusable! All weapons out! Autorepair down, burner and engine damaged!

Turn! Bam! Bam! I'm surrounded! Bam! Bam! My Banshee is disintegrating! Eject! WhoopwhoopWHAMMO! Blinding light! In slow motion I feel my body torn and shattered, air whooshing from my lungs a second before my chest is perforated by shrapnel.

Darkness envelops me, and slowly--too slowly--consciousness fades. I think, irrelevantly, that maybe farming wasn't such a bad choice, after all.

Just as thought and life itself fade, I hear a deep, massive voice--the voice of God?--all around me, filling the universe...filling me.

"SSSHHHIIITTT!"

Oblivion...

*

"You're clear to launch, sir."

Huh?

I shook my head, trying to focus. Had I been dozing, so close to launch time? But I had already launched, hadn't I? And flown the mission...or had I? But it was so...real.

SoSo commed me again, impatiently. "You're clear to LAUNCH, sir, OK? OK?

Barely paying attention, I performed the familiar launch ritual. My thoughts were in turmoil. I'd had these...these premonitions before, on other missions,going back as far as my first tour of duty. They invariably turned out to be correct.

Grimly, I made my decision. Be it clairvoyance, or dream, or hallucination,I'd follow this vision, too, and pray it didn't lead me to Hell.

*

"We got company!" warned Primate. "Wait, cancel that, sir. Union fighters,Union transponder codes."

"Form on my wing, Primate. Let's check these guys out." So far everything was just as in my vision.

"Colonel Blair." Right on schedule; comm from the lead Avenger. "Hyena here. Vice-Admiral Willful..."

I ignored Hyena and commed Primate on scrambler. "Primate, these guys are Confeds. Arm your weapons."

"How do you know, sir?" asked Primate.

"Just trust me. Lock a leech on Avenger Two and launch on my command."

"Roger." Thank God I'd brought Primate along. A pilot who hadn't flown with me on the Victory might not trust me in this situation.

I called the Confeds. "Roger, Hyena. Our next nav point will take us right past you. Out." Now we were closing nearly head-on. Closer...closer...

"Launch, Primate!" I called. My own leech leaped after Hyena's machine."Break and attack!"

"Maybe I'll just negotiate--"

"Shut up, Primate!"

Now the shoe's on the other foot, you bastards! Splat! Splat! Two Avengers down, and now we're among the confused Banshees. CHUG CHUG CHUG! My target is slowing already. Strange, he's not evading well--of course! These Confeds aren't familiar with their new ships! Without their little surprise, they're no better than newbies!

I felt a surge of elation. Somehow I just knew: today I owned the sky, and everyone else out in space was going to have a very bad day!

CHUG CHUG CHUG! Hah, he's helpless! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Missile? No problem! Decoy, turn, here it comes...pitch up...missed! Of course.

"Is that the best you can do, Confed? Hahahaha!" Oh boy, this is fun! Next victim!

We made short work of that bunch. Within a minute, both Banshees were leeched.

Primate was ecstatic. "Damn, that was great flying, sir! Er, I took a few hits; I'm not perfect like I used to be. Do we go home?"

"No, Primate. There's another formation coming in."

"Huh? Where? I don't see any--"

"Trust me, Dean." I KNEW there were more Confeds out there. Don't ask me how.

"Well, if you say--there they are!"

"Break and attack, Primate!"

"Maybe I'll--"

"Primate!"

"OK, OK!"

I was more than human; I was a perfect fighting machine. Methodically I took my opponents apart one by one. Periodically I'd extract Primate from a jam, then return to my relentless task. Dismayed at his ineffectiveness, the last Confed ejected at my first hits.

Primate was practically in awe. "Jesus Christ, sir, I've never seen you like this!"

Poor mortal. How could he be expected to understand? "I scan heavy damage on your ship, Primate. Better stay out of the next scrap."

"M-more? But maybe I can draw some of their--Holy shit, here they come! How did you know?"

"Hey, I'm the Wing Commander!" I yawned. "Stay put, Primate, I'll take these guys myself. They're the last ones."

I commed the oncoming fighters. "Hey, Confeds! You guys got any No-Doze? I'm falling asleep here!"

For a few minutes, the four of them actually gave me a workout. But as I cut down their numbers, they panicked and degenerated into mere targets. I still had one leech missile left when the last one gave up the ghost.

I reduced throttle and surveyed the situation. Twelve Confed fighters and ejection pods were scattered within thirty thousand klicks of me. Primate had contacted the Kilrathi defense station, and already their shuttles were recovering prisoners. By Kilrathi custom, they belonged to Primate and me, so I was certain the cats wouldn't harm them before Intrepid's shuttle picked them up. Otherwise the poor bastards would end up as slaves or die in the arena.

I was tired, but satisfied. "Good patrol, Primate. Let's go home...Primate?"

Primate was uncharacteristically quiet. "Sorry, sir. It's just that...well, there's something...supernatural about you today, sir. I just... Um, can we keep comm silence, sir?"

"Suit yourself, Primate." Strange guy.

*

For the moment, SoSo seemed to have forgotten she was mad at me. "Sir! Sir, that was the most--"

"--amazing flying you've ever seen." Jeez, it was so dull knowing what everyone was going to say!

She was taken aback. "Er, yes. Um, I hear the Kilrathi down on--"

"--Pasqual X have a new Terran hero, right, Lieutenant?" Just give me the damn clearance, OK?

"Er, yes." She was uncertain, and much less chatty now. "You have clearance. Out."

Finally! Sheesh.

*

Strange, Zelda usually met me at the ladder. Oh well. I pulled the banana out of my pocket and headed for Primate's beat-up fighter.

As I approached, I saw Primate talking excitedly to a group of techs and pointing back toward my Banshee. Then one of the techs spotted me and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yaaaaah!" Primate took one look at me and scurried up the bulkhead. He didn't stop until he was three decks up, where he cowered, trembling.

Now what was wrong with him? I turned to the techs for an explanation, but they just backed away, slowly, never taking their eyes off me. Jesus, were they FRIGHTENED?

Damn dumb Border Worlders! I tossed the banana to the closest tech. "Here. Maybe you can coax him down with this." I turned to go, and nearly bumped into Zelda.

Well, at least she'd be glad to have me b--

SLAP!

Ow!

I staggered and put my hand to my cheek, dumbfounded.

Zelda looked at me for a long moment, anger on her face and tears in her eyes. Then she ran into her workshop and closed the hatch.

What the hell was the matter with everyone? Just because a guy does a little superhuman flying...

End of Chapter 17

Previews from Chapter 18:

"I hope you've already spent your thirty pieces of silver, Judas. Good-bye."

"Yes, Christopher. It seems I have stumbled upon the answer that has eluded my race for generations!"

"Colonel, I know we don't look like much, but we're all veterans of the Battle of Repleetah."

"So, Heart of the Tiger, you have a new lair-mate?"

Chapter 18

Lt. Cmdr. Queue received my report with more than a little skepticism. When he downloaded my mission log, however, he hit the ceiling.

"Jesus Christ, Colonel! Are you so tired of living? You should have died half a dozen times on that mission!"

I didn't answer. As the memory of my vision faded, it was replaced by a growing horror at the reckless chances I had taken. I had broken every combat rule I'd learned in a lifetime of flying. I had senselessly risked my life--and Primate's--on a wild leap of faith. I had--Oh, God, I HAD FLOWN LIKEMANIAC!

I buried my head in my hands.

Ike patted me on the back and spoke sympathetically. "Look, Colonel, I've seen people go berserk out there before; the smart ones don't repeat. OK? Now why don't you get some rest?"

With an effort, I pulled myself together. "OK, Ike. Thanks. Um, one thing, though. Do you have any idea where Confed--Covert Ops--could have gotten those Union fighters?"

He shrugged. "Anything's possible, but I'd lay odds they're from Orestes III. Who was in charge of destroying surplus fighters before we bugged out?"

"I assigned Hulk and--" Son of a bitch!

*

I strode along the corridors of the ship with murder in my heart. Perhaps it was the look on my face, or perhaps it was the photon pistol I carried openly at my side, but everyone I met either ran, or pressed back against a bulkhead as I passed. I ignored everyone; my business was not with them.

I opened the hatch to the storage hold and paused for a moment. Except for my quarry, the compartment was deserted. Good. I wasn't worried about witnesses, but I didn't want some misguided hero trying to stop me.

Calmly, I walked to my target's bunk. Maniac was lying on his back, perusing a thick issue of Playboy. He smiled when he saw me. "Hey, Ace! I hear you've been emulating the Maniac! Ha ha ha! Well, I guess imitation is the sincerest form of--yikes!"

I sat on his bunk and placed the muzzle of the pistol a centimeter from his nose. Wanting to enjoy every moment of Maniac's ignominious end, I spoke slowly and deliberately. "How much did Covert Ops pay you for those fighters,Maniac?"

He was sweating now, on the verge of panic. "She told me she was a junk dealer, Ace!" he wailed. "Honest! They were old--early models! Intrepid had no more room! Why blow them up when I could sell them for scrap?"

So Maniac hadn't been disloyal after all, just stupid. Again. I should have known. Well, it was the last time. I smiled as my finger slowly tightened on the trigger. This would feel sooooo good! "I hope you've already spent your thirty pieces of silver, Judas. Good-bye."

"It wasn't silver!" he screamed desperately. "It was BARBECUE!" He squeezed his eyes shut.

Barbecue?

Involuntarily, my trigger finger relaxed. "Uh, you got any left?"

He nodded frantically, eyes still tightly closed, and pointed under his bunk. Warily, I knelt beside the bunk and looked. He wasn't lying. I found nearly a dozen "Ribs-R-Us" self-heating takeout BBQ-PAKs, along with a pile of vintage Playboys still in their wrappers. Maniac was a nincompoop, but he drove a hard bargain when it came to food and Playboys.

I pulled out a BBQ-PAK and turned to Maniac--shit, the big doofus had fainted. Just as well, I thought, as I pointed the pistol at him again. He wouldn' t make such a fuss when I shot him. A quick pull on the trigger, and then I could dig into--

"Sir?"

I recognized the voice even before I turned around. "Hello, Yanni," I said calmly. Hiding the BBQ-PAK and pistol behind my back, I continued smoothly, "What brings you here?"

She was blushing, and shifting her feet nervously. "Um, Louise said you had, uh, business here, so I came to find you. I, uh..." Unable to continue, she shyly extended a hand.

In her hand was her cabin lottery chit.

Oh man, could this possibly get any better? Her cabin time began in less than fifteen minutes.

I stood and gently touched her fingertips. "I accept," I said, smiling. I showed her the BBQ-PAK. "Hungry, Yanni?"

*

I drifted contentedly in the twilight between sleep and awareness. Yanni, still discovering her sexuality, was an eager student whose lust for, er, knowledge was exceeded only by her appetite for barbecue. Now, sated in every sense of the word, she slept quietly in my arms as I savored her warmth.

Momentarily more awake than asleep, I brushed back Yanni's hair and kissed herfore head. For a few precious hours I could pretend I had a woman who would raise kids and crops with me, and the war was merely a bad dream from which I had just awakened. It was a gift I could never repay.

Presently I slipped back into slumber, taking thoughts of farm and family with me. Not surprisingly, I was soon dreaming about the day I had learned of the "final solution" to the Kilrathi Problem.

*

It was four days before I would get the call from Maniac. I was out in the fields near the boundary between my farm and Zeke's. One of my agrodroids had broken down, and I was trying to get it back on the job before lunch. I worked with a will, inspired by a bright spring day that seemed to hold boundless promise.

I looked up from my work, listening. I had heard a faint cry, unintelligible,but definitely not sectoid or aviate. Surely not megamole either, though I made certain my photon rifle was close at hand, just in case.

There it was again! It was coming from Zeke's side of the boundary marker. I stood up to get a better look...

There! In the distance I could see Zeke running toward me like a bat out of Hell, waving and shouting. Once he fell to the ground, but he just rolled, ran for a moment on all fours like one of his ancestors, then jumped up and continued his mad dash. His straw hat remained behind, but he paid no attention to it.

Thoroughly alarmed, I grabbed my rifle and ran to meet him. Zeke and his harem had three kittens now, and I had a terrible feeling that they were in danger. I could think of no other reason for his frantic behavior.

As we approached each other, Zeke, nearly out of breath, shouted a single word that stopped me in my tracks. "Eureka!" he yelled.

'Eureka?' That didn't sound like trouble. Shit, was he making all this fuss over another new eggplant recipe?

I had no time to speculate, because Zeke kept coming, and he wasn't slowing down! "Wait, Zeke!" I yelled. "Whoa, big guy--oof!"

The collision knocked the breath out of me. I would have fallen, except Zeke grabbed me like a rag doll, hugged me to his chest, and whirled around and around.

"Heeheehee!" he yelled giddily. "Eureka! Hahahaha! Eureka! Heeheehee!"

Finally, out of breath, he collapsed to the ground. I rolled free and sat up, trying to stop the world from spinning around me. Damn, Zeke's enthusiasm was so annoying sometimes!

"OK, Zeke," I said, seeing he was beginning to calm down. "What's the big deal this time?" I started brushing the dirt off my clothes. "You discover another new sex position?"

"Heehee! No, Christopher. I am a father again! A beautiful little she-kit!"

My reaction was mixed. Though genuinely happy for Zeke, I couldn't help feeling a bit sad and more than a little jealous. My friend had four youngsters now, yet I couldn't even find myself a wife! Thoughts of the kittens, however, quickly pushed the regrets out of my mind. I loved the rambunctious little tykes, who had taken to me as readily as my girls had taken to Zeke.

"Congratulations, Zeke! That gives you three g--" Only then did it hit me. "Jesus Christ, three GIRLS? But you said--"

He nodded. "Yes, Christopher. I thought the first two were just coincidence, but this last one has convinced me. It seems I have stumbled upon the answer that has eluded my race for generations! Yet their mothers and I did nothing unusual, except--"

"--that you're VEGETARIANS! Damn, you're right, that has to be it!" No wonder he'd been so giddy. Zeke had just found the key to the long-term survival of his race. I rejoiced as I had when my own race had been spared more than two years before.

Zeke was nodding again. "We have too few data points to be precise, of course, but I suspect that strict abstinence from flesh reverses the birth ratio. I must do more experiments." He stared off into space and sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid I must redouble my mating efforts. Oh, the sacrifices I make for science!"

I snorted. "Gimme a break! With twenty-seven wives, your pencil's already worn to a nub! You used to spend half your time at my place hiding from your horny honeys! Remember the time Thelma and Louise were after you, and you hid in my root cellar?" I certainly remembered. Unable to find Zeke, the frustrated she-cats had gone for me instead. It had been the most intense sexual experience of my life, and one of the most satisfying, except that it took me nearly a week to recover. From then on, Zeke was on his own.

Zeke sighed again. "You're right, Christopher. And within two generations, all Kilrathi males will be in the same fix: slaves to our females again!"

I laughed. "Don't look to me for sympathy, Zeke. Human males don't have it that much better."

We sat in silence, contemplating our respective fates. Then Zeke turned to me again.

"Still, ya gotta love 'em," he said wistfully.

"That's a roger, good buddy!"

*

I woke to the alarm, which I had set to give us plenty of time before the next cabin occupants were due. The cleaning droids were programmed to a precise schedule; more than one tardy couple had already been dragged naked from their cabin by the relentless machines.

Yanni awoke with her hair over her eyes and a smile on her lips. We both squeezed into the tiny sonic shower--er, to save time--and began the contortions required to expose bodily nooks and crannies to the vibro-mist. Yanni insisted on rubbing the Depil-8 gel on my one-day beard herself, so I occupied my hands with other activities.

"You know, Chris--Ooohhh!--last night, when we talked, I realized—Mmmmmm!--for the first time how much you love--Oh, right there!--er, love your farm. I-I truly hope you find--Oh, don't stop!--someone t-to share it with you--Oh! Uh! Oh! Ooooohhhhhh...."

I held her as she slumped against me. Amazing what a little skilled back-scratching could do!

"You know, Yanni, I envy the lucky stiff who ends up with you." That wouldn't be me, of course. Whatever my fantasies of the night before, Yanni would never follow me back to Nephritis 2. Still, despite the familiar bittersweet feeling of dead-end romance, I had no regrets.

I kissed her wet hair. "Thank you, dear Yanni, for a magical night."

*

We kissed good-bye in the companionway while the cleaning droids bustled about inside the cabin. As I headed toward the Control Bay, I passed Valentina and Archie going the other way. I smiled as they entered the cabin Yanni and I had just vacated. The two droids were unceremoniously shoved out the hatch, which was then slammed shut.

Hulk had the duty in the Control Bay. I approved his patrol plans and added a couple of suggestions. Though it seemed the pirates had given up, I had a feeling they were just laying low.

After bantering with the duty crew for a few minutes, I had to give in to my stomach, which was insisting on more galley food, despite an unbroken string of disappointments. Fortunately I still had one small squeeze pack of barbecue sauce with me.

*

Upon entering the galley, I spotted SoSo alone at one of the tables. I was tempted to try a reconciliation, but for the life of me I couldn't think of a good way to go about it. Oops, too late anyway. Catalyst was sitting down next to her with a tray of food.

"Oh, goody!" SoSo gushed. "You brought me...green, uh, stuff. Veggies? "Warily, she transferred the bowl to her own tray. "Thanks. I think." She took a bite and bravely forced it down.

Catalyst looked around furtively, then stealthily took something out of his pocket and placed it on the table between them. SoSo's eyes lit up. It was a snack-size can of Tingles potato chips! Contraband from Orestes III, no doubt.

"Oh God, Catscratch, you're a lifesaver!" Quickly she popped the top. Her companion took a chip and, despite her protestations that he should have the first one, placed it daintily in her eager mouth.

SoSo closed her eyes and savored the snack. "Oh God, nacho cheese flavor! "She cried out with every delightful chew. "Yes! Ohhhh! Yes! Yessss!"

I felt myself getting aroused, and from the looks on the faces of the other men--and women--in the galley, I wasn't the only one. I had to put a lid on this before it got out of hand.

I quickly strode over to their table. Catalyst immediately leaped to attention, while SoSo guiltily tried to hide the can of chips. Seeing it was hopeless, however, she reluctantly held it out to me.

"Have a potato chip, Colonel?"

"No thanks, Lieutenant. Uh, at ease there, Catalyst."

Catalyst sat down with relief. "Um, I've been thinking about what you said, Colonel, and I'm with you. I want to help the Kilrathi, too."

SoSo, delighted to have the chips back, piped up, "I, uh, helped straighten him out, Colonel." She grinned and gave Catalyst a conspiratorial nudge.

"Yes, sir, we had a long talk." His eyes grew dreamy. "A long, long talk."

"It was long, all right," agreed SoSo, gazing at Catalyst with adoration. "He's a hard man, Colonel, but I kept working on him. I softened him up, and I licked him in the end." She abruptly realized what she was saying. "Er, I convinced him, I mean! Heh heh." SoSo and Catalyst were both blushing.

I just stood there, enjoying their discomfiture. The silence grew longer and longer.

Finally, SoSo blurted, "By the way, Colonel, have you met our new guests down in the hold?"

Guests? What now? "No, I haven't. Guess I'll get some eats and then check'em out. Carry on, you two." I had teased them enough. Ah, young love!

I whistled as I made my food selections. SoSo had seemed much friendlier this time. Perhaps she was over her pique.

In the mood for company, I picked up my tray and looked for a familiar face. Lt. Mourne saw me and waved for me to join her and Lou Tennant. More than happy to oblige, I sat down just as SoSo started moaning over another potato chip.

"Um, September," I said, to distract myself from SoSo, "I went over your last mission log. You did a good job covering Maniac on his torpedo run."

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling. "It wasn't easy." Her smile faded. "Sir, he keeps putting me on his wing. Can you do something about it?" She leaned closer. "I'd be ever so grateful..."

I glanced uncomfortably at Louise. "Um, September, that won't be nec--"

"It's OK, Colonel," said Louise, grinning. "We tossed for you, and I lost. This time." She stood up and took her tray to the recycler.

Well! I turned to September. "My cabin time comes up in three watches. If you can talk Tex into flying with Maniac..." I pointed to the table where Tex and Moose were sitting. "...I'll order Major Marshall to pair you with another pilot. Um, regardless of whether you and I..." But she was already gone.

I busied myself with my serving of ship's lasagna, an offering I hadn't tried yet. Damn, it was harder than armor plate! I bent a fork and a knife, both made of durasteel, before giving up and moving on to the vegetable surprise.

As a diversion from the unappetizing food, I tuned in on Catalyst and SoSo two tables over. Their conversation had turned to lottery chits.

"Sorry, Velina," said Catalyst. "My cabin time isn't for another two days."

"Damn!" she answered. "Three days for me. And I-I can't do it in the hold again, Catscratch. I just can't!"

"It's OK, honey," said Catalyst. "Look, they've set up some exercise equipment in Bay 17. Next off-watch, why don't we go down and work out, or do someaerobics--"

SoSo gagged on her veggies. "No! No fucking aerobics!"

When I turned to see if she was OK, I saw her glaring back at me, unconsciously pulling her uniform closer around her. If looks could kill, I would have been a bubbling, formless mass of protoplasm on the deck.

Shit, I had to do something. The two lovebirds were arguing now, and the fight was escalating rapidly. Their row wasn't exactly my fault, but I'd had a hand in provoking it.

SoSo had already dumped her tray and was storming out. I intercepted her near the hatch.

"Lieutenant, I just want--"

She brushed me aside. "SorrysirbutIhavealotofworktodo--"

Exasperated, I blocked the hatch with my arm. "Look, you little nitwit, I'm trying to apologize for Orestes IV! I want to make it up to you! Here."

"Wha--Ohmygod, your lottery chit! Sir, I can't..."

I shook my head. "Yes you can. Now give me yours before I change my mind."

She took out her own chit and handed it to me. "Thank you, sir. I-I'm sorry I was angry with you. It... It wasn't your..." She hesitated, then shyly kissed me on the cheek. I watched as she ran off to tell her sweetie.

Lt. Mourne was back. "Tex agreed, sir."

I didn't have to ask how she'd persuaded him. "OK, September, I'll talk to Maniac. Um, but there's been a change in our, er, plans." I explained about my goodwill gesture.

She glanced at the loving couple, who were already reconciled and happily admiring my--their--chit. Then she smiled and kissed me on my other cheek. "I think that's sweet, Chris. You're a helluva guy."

I felt three meters tall. "Um, September, perhaps we can make other..." But she was on her way to Tex's table again.

"Moose!" she called. "I'm free after all..."

Shit!

*

I was in an evil mood when I reached the storage hold. Whoever our "guests" were, they were going to get a rough time from me.

The guests turned out to be Union Marines. The tallest one noticed me first and yelled "Ten-hut!" All six leaped to their feet, lined up, and stiffened to attention.

I walked up to the sergeant, who was standing in front of his team and staring rigidly ahead in the best Marine tradition. Looking at their crisp, clean uniforms, I forgot about my bad mood. It seemed Willful had sent us an elite team; we could make good use of them.

I put out my hand. "At ease, Sergeant. I'm Christopher Blair."

He grasped my hand with an iron grip. "Blair? Say, aren't you the guy from--"

"No, I'm not! Er, why don't you introduce your team, Sergeant?"

"Aye aye, sir! I'm Fry McLean. They call me 'Mean Green McLean!'"

'Mean Green?' What kind of a battle nickname--

He presented the first Marine in line. "This is PFC Northan West."

West was tall, thin, and awfully young. He saluted crisply and sang out,"Semper Fi, SIR!"

Uh, yeah. Whatever.

"Private Stupor Awks."

Awks was sturdier, more hard-bitten. He stuck up his middle finger and didn't say anything.

"PFC Pull Wang."

In contrast to Awks, Wang was short and baby-faced. He grinned and reached out to pump my hand. "Hiya, Colonel, sir. How's it hangin'?"

I looked at Sgt. McLean, but he just continued down the line.

"PFC Vendetta Damppuss."

Damppuss was a wisp of a girl who didn't look big enough to carry a purse, let alone a photon rifle. She shyly held out her hand. "Colonel."

I was starting to have my doubts about these guys. Could they really be--Whoa! Get a load of the last one!

"This is Corporal Shame Vanish."

Cpl. Vanish gave me a sultry smile, but said nothing. When she offered her hand, I had to resist an impulse to kiss it. When we clasped hands and she caressed mine with her free hand, I had to resist an impulse to jump her.

Shaking, I backed away and surveyed the whole bunch. Now that I'd seen them up close, they didn't look like much. Except Cpl. Vanish, of course.

As if reading my mind, Sgt. McLean said, "Colonel, I know we don't look like much, but we're all veterans of the Battle of Repleetah."

Uh-oh. "Sergeant, there were no survivors of the Battle of Repleetah."

He hastily tried to cover up. "Er, did I say 'Repleetah?' I meant, er...the Alamo! Yeah, that's it, the Alamo. Heh heh."

Why me, God? "I don't think so, Sergeant. So who are you, really?"

He slumped in resignation. "OK, OK, we're thespians."

Now I was getting mad again. "Look, asshole, I don't care about your sex habits! I want to know who you are!"

It was McLean's turn to get mad. "I just told you, dummy! We're actors!We're between holovid seasons, and we're moonlighting to pick up a few bucks."He managed to calm down a little. "Look, we'd just finished shooting the last show of the season, we were still in our costumes, and these Militia types asked if we needed some extra cash. We said OK, and here we are."

Oh, shit. No wonder Willful had been so amused by our request. Still, even actors were better than nothing, right? If they played soldiers, they must have learned something, right? Right?

"What's the name of your show, McLean?" Damn, I'd probably have to censor the crew's holovid programs.

"It's called 'Space: Under the Helmet.' It's a dramatic examination of human psychology under the strain of combat. Airs on the Sox Network. Um, look, can you give us a break, Colonel? We really need the money. Sox doesn't pay very much."

I thought about it. At least there was no need for censorship. Nobody watched Sox.

"OK, OK, Sergeant, you and your, er, troops can stay. But don't let on you're not real Marines, or I'll have your asses!"

McLean practically fainted with relief. "Whew! Thanks for your confidence, Colonel. We won't let you down. Er, one question: When do our stand-ins arrive?"

"Stand-ins?"

"You know, our stuntmen. We don't want to get hurt with the new season coming up. The recruiters said we'd have the best."

It was all I could do to keep a straight face. "Well, I hate to break it to you, McLean, but on this gig, you do your own stunts."

The look on his face was priceless. I put my hands in my pockets and ambled off toward the Control Bay, whistling.

*

Despite our intensive searches, we found no trace of the pirate ships that had launched the strikes on the Kilrathi defense stations. Whether they had taken too many losses, or merely had other fish to fry, it looked like they were going to leave the cats alone.

I flew one uneventful patrol with Yaeger and came back to find that Melek had returned to the Intrepid. At the time, however, I was more concerned about Zelda. Tech Barr had told me she was locked away in her workshop, slaving away on something the Kilrathi scientists had sent her. I tried the hatch myself, but it was locked and there was no answer.

I would have persisted, except that Captain Eisen wanted me in CIC for a briefing. As luck would have it, I ran into Maniac just outside the hatch.

Upon seeing me, he turned pale and promptly raised his hands. "Take it easy, Ace," he pleaded. "Don't hurt me, OK?"

"Calm down, Maniac. I'm not mad any more. I realized you just can't blame a cockroach for being a cockroach."

He relaxed and flashed his familiar grin. "Yeah, you're right, Ace, you can't blame me for being a--Hey! Who are you calling--"

"But you might think about how close you came to cashing in your chips, pal. If it hadn't been for Yanni..."

"'Jailbait' Yokely saved my life? Say, maybe I better get up to A Turret and express my, uh, 'gratitude!' Hubba hubba!"

"Maniac!"

*

Melek and Captain Eisen were waiting for me in CIC. The Captain was just wiping away the last of his overnight beard. He picked up his swagger stick and began the briefing with the gel still on his face.

"Ah, Colonel. For a change, this mission should be a milk run." Eisen pointed to the main display, which showed the Pasqual system. He zoomed in on thePeleus jump point.

"As you know, Colonel, we're headed for the Peleus jump point to ensure that none of the pirates escape that way. The Union can't afford to have pirates loose in its most strategic star system."

He pointed out an object near the path to the jump point.

"In a few more days, when this new surveillance array is online, the Kilrathi will have the means to defeat the remaining pirates in this system. Melek has asked us to escort him there for the opening ceremony. Melek?"

Melek took over smoothly. "I could arrange escort by our own craft, of course. However, many of my followers are still opposed to any cooperation with humans. By demonstrating my complete confidence in our former enemies, I hope to weaken the isolationists and open the way to closer ties with Union worlds. The effect will be even greater if the Heart of the Tiger consents to lead the escort."

I smiled. Melek had come a long way since his days as Thrakhath's toady. "I understand, Melek. It'll be my honor."

"Very well," said Eisen. "I'm also sending our newly arrived Marines. They will act as honor guard for Melek's arrival."

That suited me fine. Our "Marines" shouldn't need stunt men for this task. "I'll pass the word, Captain," I said. Seeing the troubled look on his face, I added, "Something wrong, Captain?"

He waited a long moment before replying. "Er, Colonel, how sure are you of those people? I saw them debarking from their shuttle, and frankly, they didn't seem to know their rifle muzzles from their assholes! Are they really the elite Marines Willful says they are?"

"Well, they're not thespians, sir. Heh heh."

Eisen frowned. "What do their sex lives have to do with anything?"

I tried not to laugh. Jeez, sometimes the Captain could be so dumb!

*

I briefed my squadron commanders and assigned patrol sectors for the run to the jump point. With our escorts and their fighters joining the effort, we had enough searchers to keep a strong strike force in reserve.

Primate refused to fly with me, even when I offered him extra bananas. This seemed like a good time to get closer to Tamara--nothing like a long mission for getting to know someone--but she was still whipping her rookies into shape.

I finally picked Lt. Frank "Turbo" Roan, a steady veteran respected by his fellow Wombats. He was happy enough with the assignment, especially when I told him that Melek's arrival would probably be covered by news crews. He excused himself to spruce up and put on a dress uniform.

I had better things to do than primp for the cams: it was time to confront Zelda. I'd been tolerant of her romantic antics, but I couldn't have my chief tech decking me after every mission.

I found Zelda loading my Banshee with decoys. She saw me coming, but she kept working, ignoring me completely. I waited patiently at the bottom of the ladder until she finished and climbed down.

It wasn't until she was standing in front of me that she acknowledged my presence. "Colonel?" she said evenly, wiping her hands on a rag.

"Tell me the truth, Chief. Do I need to find a new crew chief?"

"That depends, sir," she replied calmly. "Are you going to fly like the man I love, or like that bozo, Maniac?" Her voice started to crack. "Y-you see, sir, I have to know, b-because I refuse to help you c-commit suicide!"

So that was it. She'd just been worried about me. "You can rest easy, Chief. That last mission put the fear of God into me. No more glory stunts, I promise." She brightened, until I poked my finger at her as a warning. "But get this straight, OK? You and me? It's not gonna happen, Chief."

She was still smiling, her tears forgotten. "That's what you think, Blairbear. But I can wait." I submitted to a couple of her kisses, wincing as her teeth inflicted new wounds. Damn, it was either bruised cheeks or cut lips; there was no in-between with Zelda!

*

Lt. Homes and the "Marines" started boarding their shuttle while Zelda was explaining her new anti-cloaking measures to Turbo and me. Melek and his party were heading for their own shuttle. I excused myself to say good-bye to him.

Melek was in high spirits. "So, Heart of the Tiger, you have a new lair-mate?" He gestured toward Zelda and Turbo.

"Huh? You mean Zelda? Er, no, she's my crew chief. Why?"

"It's just that, by Kilrathi standards, she is quite attractive. She would be a worthy lair-mate for the Heart of the Tiger."

"Oh." I barely choked back laughter. Melek was pretty smart for a cat, but his taste in human women was pathetic.

"By the way, Melek, I have something for you." I took out the data cartridge I'd kept as a memento. "I learned nearly everything I know about farming from this. Now I want you to have it."

Melek took it and read the title. "'Agriculture for Dummies.' My profoundest gratitude, Heart of the Tiger. Thanks to you, the Kilrathi have a future again. You know, of course, you will always have a place among us, should this human conflict turn out badly for you."

I was touched. "Thanks, friend Melek. I'll remember that. Good-bye and good luck."

Rejoining Zelda and Turbo, I noticed Zelda staring at the huge feline as he waved and led his retinue up the ramp.

"Um, Chris," she said. "Is every part of the Kilrathi, er, anatomy so, so..."

"Big?" I said, completing her thought. "Bigger, actually. Er, so I've heard."

"Ooooooh," she moaned, almost inaudibly. She shivered a bit as she continued gazing at the spot where Melek had stood.

Hmm, this was a side of Zelda I hadn't seen before. Maybe that mysterious cylinder in her cloaking device had once been an oversized dildo after all.

*

The unfinished surveillance array was about two hours' flight from the Union task force. I passed the time immersed in memories of my time with Yanni. After my encounter with Robin and Rachel, it was unlikely I'd go back to my old life on the farm, but a guy could dream--

"Heart of the Tiger! Danger!"

Shit! Always when I'm thinking! I activated the comm. "What is it, Melek?

"The array reports an attack by pirates! Fighters and landing craft-- The transmission has ceased!"

Shit! How had a pirate ship evaded our patrols? We had to intervene, but the two shuttles still needed our protection.

"Melek! Homes! Full speed! Homes, contact Intrepid and have them vector the nearest patrol to the array! And get the other patrols to this area. There's a capship out there somewhere!"

"Roger, Earthworm."

The array came up on our detectors a few minutes later. There was no sign of pirate fighters. Had they pulled back already?

We closed the distance as rapidly as the slow shuttles permitted, and I fretted all the way. After the failure of their main attack on the cat planet, the pirates had to take out the array to have any hope of continuing operations in the Pasqual system. Yet here it was, still intact. Wait, Melek had said something about landing craft--Shit! They were trying to ambush Melek!

I commed the Kilrathi shuttle. "Melek! Pull back! Ambush!" Damn, the pirates could uncloak at any time!

Melek himself appeared on the comm. "No, Heart of the Tiger. I have eight veteran infantry in my bodyguard. We must help the defenders of the array! "The shuttle continued on course.

Goddamn fucking cats! It was like dealing with an entire race of Maniacs!I switched to the wingman channel. "Turbo! Watch for cloaked--"

Pirate Arrows began appearing on my scope! Full speed, Blair!

"Turbo! Break and attack!"

"Absolutely, Earthworm!"

"Homes! Stick with Melek! Get the Marines on that station!" No time for more. An Arrow was on my tail, and I had a surprise ready for him.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Decoy! Decoy! Now evade, Blair, because these are Zelda's special decoys, and they don't work on missiles!

Whoopwhoopwhoop! Turn, Blair! Hah, missed! There he is! Close in! Shit, he's cloaking...Hah! It worked! You're a jewel, Zelda!

The pirate Arrow had indeed cloaked, but I could still see him! And he didn't know it! Heehee, you're mine, motherfucker! Another Arrow was on my tail, so I dropped a couple more decoys. I closed rapidly with my first target.

Leech locking...locked! Point blank range! Launch! Splat! Yahoo! Evade!

Splat! "One more for the kill board, sir!" Hah! Turbo got one, too!

OK, the guy on my tail realizes what's going on, he's running for his life! Burner! Leech is locking...Launch! He's evading... Shit! OK, but I cut the corner while he maneuvered! Ploop! Ploop! Ploop! He's damaged and slowing. Ho ho, the idiot is cloaking! Leech locking...Launch! Splat! What a dope!

Back to the array. The last Arrow is on Turbo's tail! He's marked, but he has lock...He's launching! Turbo's evading...Shit, he's hit!

"Meeting heavy resistance, Earthworm! Need help!"

"I'm coming, Turbo!" We have three disabled Arrows, so I don't need another prisoner. This guy's going straight to hell! He wants to finish off Turbo, but now I'm on his tail! Ploop! Ploop! Ploop! Automatch speed! Ploop! Ploop! Eject, stupid! Ploop! KABOOM! Good-bye, asshole! Give my regards to Lucifer!

Turbo had lost most of his aft armor, but otherwise he was OK. It looked like all the pirate fighters were accounted for. My thoughts turned to the fighting that must be going on inside the array. Both our shuttles had docked and disgorged their troops into the meat grinder.

"Homes! Status?" I saw two pirate landers attached to the array. As many as fifty enemy infantry could be loose in there. Melek's Kilrathi were probably good soldiers, but I expected nothing from our Hollyworld "Marines." At best, they could draw some of the enemy's fire. Damn, damn! Why had I let them talk me into letting them--

"Homes here, sir!" I heard screams and small-arms fire in the background. "We have one hell of a fight here, Earthworm! My God, look at those Marines! Damn, I gotta be part of this! Homes out!"

"Homes! Stay put! Don't--" Too late. I could still hear the sounds of combat and...laughter? Gradually the noise faded, until I could hear only static.

I was frantic with worry. Melek was going to be killed, and it was my fault! For one desperate moment, I considered joining the fight myself--no, that would be a useless gesture. Better to wait for reinforcements and blast the damn pirates when they--

The comm came to life. It was Melek! There was blood trickling from his ear and his muzzle was bloody, but he was jubilant.

"Heart of the Tiger! The array is ours! My deepest thanks for your help. Your Marines are truly fierce warriors!"

"Uh, they are? I mean, of course they are." Had blood lust driven him mad?

"Under the circumstances," he continued, "we will forgo the ceremony. We have reinforcements inbound, so your people can leave directly. Farewell, my friend."

"Uh, yeah, good hunting, friend Melek." I shook my head. Maybe the pirates had attacked with Cub Scouts or something. I couldn't see our "Marines" beating anyone tougher.

The Marine shuttle joined us shortly, and we set course for Intrepid. I wanted to ask Homes about the fight, but right about then one of our patrols found the pirate frigate that had launched the attack. I vectored in reinforcements and followed the action on the comm until the enemy was space dust. That still didn't explain how it had slipped by our patrols earlier, but at least the threat was over.

*

"Great work, Colonel!"

Damn, I hated to admit it, but I had missed SoSo's welcoming smile.

"Thanks, Lieutenant. Uh, everything OK there?" I winked at her.

Her smile grew wider. "Oh, YES, sir!" she gushed. Evidently she and Catalyst had made good use of my cabin chit. "You have clearance, sir."

As I switched off, I felt a momentary twinge of jealousy. Damn, did I have feelings for that annoying little stick woman? Naaah, couldn't be.

Could it?

*

Zelda, too, was her old self. Bubbling with exuberance, she pinned me to the ladder and covered me with kisses. "Four-oh flying, honeybunch! Four-oh!"

"Whoa, Zelda! Heehee! Cut it out! No, I mean it! Heehee, that tickles! Ouch! Watch the teeth! Down, girl! Heehee! Down! Heel!"

I managed to fend her off at arm's length for a moment. Desperately, I tried to think of something to distract her.

"Zelda! One thing: what did you put in those decoys?" That got her. She quit struggling and grinned back at me.

"Look, Chief, I know the paint-bomb-in-the-decoy trick has been tried before, but it always failed. So did the giant-paint-sprayer and all the rest, because the paint would just cloak with the fighter. So what did you use?"

She took my hand and led me into her workshop. "The Kilrathi scientists sent me the formula for a special paint they discovered that wouldn't cloak. Unfortunately, we couldn't duplicate it with the resources we have here, so I had to improvise, using their formula as a guide."

She stopped at the bench and pulled out one of her modified decoys. Opening the central chamber, she invited me to look inside. All I could see was an unremarkable white, creamy substance.

"Taste it," she invited.

"Taste it? Uh, OK." I smeared some on my finger and tentatively touched it to my tongue. Then, smiling, I stuck the whole finger in my mouth." Recognize it?" she asked, grinning.

"Jesus, Chief! It's lemon meringue!"

End of Chapter 18

Previews from Chapter 19:

"Sounds to me like your actions were in accordance with the finest traditions of the Union Militia, Sergeant."

"Covert Ops has raised the ante on us. They're using the most terrible, the most reprehensible weapon known to modern man."

"Uh, by the way, Earthworm, did you know your bird looks like--"

Chapter 19

The Marine shuttle landed shortly after I did, so I didn't have time to sample any more of Zelda's concoction. I reached the shuttle in time to see the "Marines" hustle young West down the ramp. As they set him on a stretcher, he winced with pain and reached toward his left foot, which was wrapped with a bloody dressing. Pvt. Damppuss helped the pharmacist's mate with the grav stretcher, and the rest followed it to the lift.

Lt. Homes stood at the top of the ramp, leaning wearily against the side of the hatch. His face was dirty, there was blood on his fatigues, and he had a nasty photon burn across the back of his left hand, but he was smiling.

I climbed up the ramp and held out my hand. "Welcome back, Churlokk. What happened on that array?"

He clasped my hand enthusiastically. "You should have seen it, sir! When we landed in the docking bay, the Marines just piled right out! I tell you, sir, they were magnificent! They fell over each other, they stood out in the open and fired from the hip--you know, like all those stupid holovid shows?--firing like crazy, and didn't hit a blessed thing!"

"Uh, Churlokk, that sounds more like the Three Stooges than the Magnificent Seven..."

He laughed. "That was the beauty of their plan, sir! The pirates took on elook and started laughing their heads off! When the Marines closed in to pointblank range--and still missed with every shot--those pirates were rolling on the deck, completely helpless! Then the Marines took their rifles and clubbed'em unconscious!"

He paused, choked with emotion. A tear rolled down his cheek. "I always thought Marines were bloodthirsty killers, sir. But these guys, they risked their necks to save lives." He was weeping unashamedly now. "I tell you, sir, I'm just so proud to be on their side!"

Uh, yeah. Whatever. "OK, take it easy, Homes. What happened then?"

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Well, I just couldn't sit around and watch, so I grabbed a rifle and left the shuttle. Since the Marines didn't need any help, I ran up to the next deck, where the Kilrathi had gone. The array survivors were barricaded around the control room, surrounded by pirates. Melek deployed his bodyguards, and we took the enemy from the rear. Sir, it was incredible! We hit 'em with photon fire, then took 'em hand to hand--er, claw to hand! There was blood and body parts flying everywhere! Melek took two of 'em himself!"

I felt a touch of nausea, imagining the carnage. Kilrathi were probably the fiercest up-close-and-personal fighters in the known galaxy.

Homes continued his narrative. "After a few seconds of that, the pirates panicked and tried to surrender. The cats got some of them, but the others huddled behind me, and Melek spared them. Um, that's unusual for Kilrathi, isn't it, sir?"

Not for vegetarian Kilrathi. "Er, Melek's an unusual cat, Homes. Or maybe it's just good public relations; Pasqual is surrounded by human star systems, you know, and a kinder, gentler image is good for business."

"Maybe that's it," agreed Homes. "Anyway, Melek is sending the prisoners to Militia HQ on the next transport."

I was impressed. The hesitant sycophant I'd known two years ago had become a fierce warrior, a charismatic leader, and a skilled diplomat. Melek had certainly earned his place as leader of the Kilrathi.

Churlokk was still waiting expectantly. "Sorry, I was just thinking, Homes. Thanks for your report. Now you'd better get Forceps to fix that hand."

Homes blanched. "Uh, if it's all right with you, sir, I'll just ask Lou to have a look at it."

"Oh." I remembered Louise's deft fingers on the stubborn leech connectors and my recalcitrant relief valve. "Come to think of it, that's probably a better idea. She has a pretty delicate touch."

"Oh, indeed she does, sir!" he said happily. "Er, so I hear! Heh heh. Um, if you'll excuse me..."

I stared after him. Homes and Tennant? Jeez, people seemed to be pairing up pretty fast on this tub. I wondered if Tina and Archie were contagious.

*

"Eeeeeyow!"

Poor West, I thought as I entered sick bay. Forceps is in fine form today. Of course, better West than me, heh heh.

"Yeeoowwch!"

West's companions cringed with each yell from the surgery. They weren't used to the aftermath of real battle.

I tapped McLean on the shoulder. "Sergeant? Before your debriefing, I thought we might go over the mission together?"

He shook his head sadly. "Yes, sir, but I don't see much point. After your captain reads the report, we'll be lucky if he just kicks us off the ship. Damn, it's a lot harder to be Marines than I thought. For one thing, they use live power packs!"

Welcome to the Militia, pal. "Uh, yeah, real Marines are funny that way, Fry. Anyway, back to the mission. From what Lt. Homes told me, I take it you deployed by sections and laid down a heavy suppressing fire with your personal weapons?"

"We did? Uh, I guess so."

"And you advanced by bounding overwatch, using fire and maneuver to close with the enemy?"

"Er, sort of."

"And you finished off the pirates by close assault from the flank?"

"Close assault? Flank? Well..."

"Sounds to me like your actions were in accordance with the finest traditions of the Union Militia, Sergeant. I wouldn't be surprised if your team gets a unit citation for today's mission."

He stared at me blankly.

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Just tell Ike that in the debriefing and you'll do fine. Ah, here's our young hero now!

One of Forceps' assistants was taking West out of the surgery into the enlisted ward. West smiled weakly as his co-stars gathered around his stretcher, all talking at once. McLean hesitated, then saluted me and followed his team into the ward.

Forceps came out of the surgery, carrying a clipboard and his tin cup. "Ah, Blair! Just the guy I want to see!"

"How's West, Forceps?"

"No complications. He'll have his toes back in a few days. Aah, but I think you oughta know, from the blast angle and the tissue damage, he wasn't hit by no enemy. Stupid kid shot his own damn toes off!"

Shit. This was going to cost me again.

"Um, look, Forceps. West's courage today was undeniable." It was mainly stupidity of course, but he HAD risked his life. "I don't think a moment's carelessness should detract from that, do you?" Forceps waited expectantly. I sighed. "OK, another six-pack?"

He tore his report off the clipboard and grinned. "You got it, kid!"

*

I was on my way to the galley when Hulk stopped me in the corridor. "Colonel, Captain tell Hulk, get Blair to CIC. Admiral call soon."

Uh-oh. Damn admiral was nothing but trouble. "OK, thanks, Hulk. Say, why the long face, big guy?"

He sighed. "Hulk miss Kilrathi. Talk to Melek long time before he go. Much in common."

Yeah, they were both big and dumb. "Well look, Hulk. When all this is over, why don't you visit your friend on Pasqual? Maybe you can talk about rabbits."

He perked up instantly. "Yes! Hulk visit Melek! Blair smart! Huh-huh! Huh-huh!" He lumbered off, his sadness forgotten.

*

"Ah, Colonel." Captain Eisen was in the comm alcove with SoSo. "Over here. Admiral Willful will contact us any second."

I arrived just as Vice Admiral Damyall Willful appeared in the display. He was playing pocket billiards with a cute but cross-eyed female ensign. As I watched, he made an easy shot and pounded the edge of the table in triumph. The ensign promptly removed her uniform blouse, revealing a stunning designer bra with a Victoria's Secret tag still on it.

SoSo put a hand over her mouth and ran past me to the porta-potty.

The Admiral, noticing he was on, turned to face us and took the cigar out of his mouth. He coughed several times. Damn, he seemed to have aged five years since his last call.

"Ah, Billy. And Tony the Tiger. How'd that last mission go?"

Tony the Tiger? "Er, fine, Admiral. But it's HEART of the--"

Eisen hastily interrupted me. "Er, Admiral, I want to thank you for sending us the Marines. Their performance was exemplary."

Willful gave him a strange look. "Eh? It was? Er, we are talking about Fry McLean and his people, aren't we?"

Eisen looked puzzled. "Yes, sir. Who else would--"

Willful pounded the table again. "Well I'll be damned! Er, I mean, I expected no less. Heh heh." He lined up a shot, missed, and cursed. He reached for a bottle and poured himself a stiff drink. His hands were shaking.

"Reason I called, Billy, is we've been reading some of Confed's mail, thanks to those codes that skinny little gal of yours gave us. Hey, where'd she go? Well, anyway, they're planning some kind of special action in Peleus, codename 'Operation Brady Bunch.' Name mean anything to you?"

Eisen shook his head. "Nothing. How about you, Colonel?"

'Brady Bunch?' I knew bananas and grapes came in bunches. Was a 'Brady' some kind of extraterrestrial fruit? "Something to do with supplies or logistics, maybe?"

Willful thought it over. "You know, Colonel, you may be right. Peleus is the nexus for many Union jump routes; almost all supplies to the front lines pass through that system. Damn! You're the closest reserves I have to Peleus, but I was planning to send you to Circe."

Willful's cross-eyed companion leaned over to line up her shot—revealing considerable cleavage in the process--and missed badly. The Admiral then made his shot, and the ensign slipped her skirt off. Her panties bore no tag, but I recognized them from the Victoria's Secret catalog.

Perhaps emboldened by his success, the Admiral come to a decision. Addressing Eisen again, he said, "Billy, if we lose Peleus, our cause cannot prevail. Get to Peleus ASAP, and you and Tony stop Operation Brady Bunch! Willful out!"

"It's BLAIR, not Tony--" Too late. The display was blank.

*

The Captain and I conferred for a while about our mission in Peleus, but there really wasn't much to discuss until we knew more. We would go in with our usual precautions and play it by ear from there.

The jump was about two hours away. The Captain was bushed, having gone practically without sleep ever since we arrived in the Pasqual system, so I persuaded him to take a nap while I kept an eye on CIC. He crawled into his sleeping bag and fell asleep instantly.

When SoSo emerged from the porta-potty, I asked her to grab me a snack from the galley. If Willful was right about "Operation Brady Bunch," we might not have much time for chow later.

*

I was still in charge of CIC for the jump to Peleus. None of us had the heart to wake Captain Eisen from his sound sleep. He'd given too much of himself in the Pasqual operations, and now he deserved his rest.

We recovered fighters, sync'd jump units with our four escorts, and made as mooth transition to Peleus, emerging about 75,000 klicks from the buoy. All seemed normal. Sensors were clear and comm traffic was routine.

Four Banshees from Gopher Squadron whooshed off the deck to establish ou rcombat air patrol. They were followed by Turkey Squadron, on long-range recon, and Wombat Squadron, which I had assigned to shorter patrols in the general direction of the main planet Paleos, or Peleus V.

For about an hour, nothing happened. I paced the deck anxiously, not knowing what we'd be facing. Would Covert Ops deploy those strange fighters they'd used against the cats--and probably against the Annabel Lee? What were their capabilities? Could our squadrons stand against them?

I was actually relieved when Maniac wandered in and started flirting with Lt. Pilotte. Now here was a concrete problem I could deal with! I was about to ream him out good when I noticed SoSo was having a problem with her equipment.

"That's strange," she said, working furiously at her console. "Shields are down...sensors down...comm breaking up! Sir, we've lost contact with our patrols!" Her voice was rising in alarm.

I was at SoSo's station in one jump, followed closely by Maniac. The others in CIC watched uneasily while SoSo tried to diagnose the problem.

"Shit!" exclaimed Maniac, examining the status display. "We're sitting ducks!"

SoSo was fighting down hysteria. "I-I don't know what's causing this, sir, I--What the..."

Something flashed onto SoSo's display. It looked a little like a holovid show, except it was two-dimensional and in grayscale. A skinny little guy in a sailor hat was talking with a chubby older man wearing a captain's cap. They were both gesturing wildly and acting like morons. Still, the whole thing had a strange fascination. I glanced aside at SoSo and Maniac, who were also gazing at the image, entranced. All over CIC, people were watching similar apparitions in their disp--

JESUS CHRIST!

"Reverse course!" I screamed at the helmsman. "SoSo, signal our escorts! Secure electronics and reverse course! Then secure our gear!"

SoSo snapped out of her trance. "But sir, the Captain--"

"DO IT NOW, DAMMIT!" Oh God, please don't let us be too late!

The ship's inertial dampers whined in protest as Lt. Pilotte threw Intrepid into an emergency turn. SoSo was yelling on the comm, apparently having some trouble raising our escorts. I just gritted my teeth and prayed.

Captain Eisen staggered over, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "What is it, Colonel? Are we under attack?"

"Worse, sir," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

SoSo turned to the Captain. "All escorts, all CAP acknowledging, Captain. They're securing electronics and following us." She reached for her console and shut down all her gear.

"Wha? No, noooo!" wailed Maniac. "How will I find out if Gilligan ever gets off that island?" He continued staring hopefully at the empty display, as if it would somehow come to life again on its own.

Eisen stared blankly at Maniac before turning to me. "What the hell is going on here? Do you know something, Blair? Spill it!"

"Covert Ops has raised the ante on us," I replied grimly. "They're using the most terrible, the most reprehensible weapon known to modern man."

Eisen looked from me to SoSo, who was still in shock, then to me again. "You don't mean..."

"Yes, sir. Sitcom warfare!"

An ominous silence fell over CIC, broken only by the sound of Maniac singing softly to himself.

"...the mate was a mighty sailin' man, the skipper brave and sure..."

*

I was late getting back to CIC for Captain Eisen's briefing. For almost two hours after we pulled out of the jamming zone, I had been trying to recall our patrols. Those who had reported back were exploring the limits of the zone. Four fighters were still missing.

Hulk, Panties, Maniac, and Catsup were already in CIC when I arrived. SoSo was reporting to the Captain. "...and the Admiral is sending backup, sir, but they won't arrive until tomorrow. He says to stop 'Operation Brady Bunch' at all costs."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Eisen wearily. "Ah, Colonel. What kept you? We need to--" Eisen broke off as Maniac started singing again. "Will you cut that out, Major! Lt. Sosa, can't you shut out that drivel?"

SoSo shook her head. "Sorry, sir. The HV--er, TV--visuals extend far beyond the jamming effect. Whenever we use our electronics, some of the signal comes through. Um, other crew members are beginning to show the effects, sir." She glanced at Maniac.

Panties raised her hand. "Captain, I don't understand. I thought sitcom warfare was banned by the Geneva Convention of '97. Even the Kilrathi wouldn't dishonor themselves by using it."

Eisen nodded. "Obviously some sitcom stocks survived the treaty. And now they're in the hands of monsters far worse than the cats. Colonel, who are you missing?"

"Moose and Squirrel, overdue. Lovey and Dovey--er, Archie and Valentina—out of communication, but not overdue yet."

Eisen nodded thoughtfully. "I hope they make it back, but you will NOT send out search teams, understand? Now, what have you found out?"

I cleared my throat. "As Soso says, there's no definite boundary to the sitcom zone, but our patrols are giving us an approximate view." I used my McPuter to activate the main display. "As you can see, the zone is roughly spherical, covering the most important jump points. Presumably there's a ship or ships near the center, generating the field. Probably fighters, too."

Eisen nodded. "Colonel, do you have any recommendations?"

My stomach knotted. I had a recommendation, all right, but I didn't like it one bit. Reluctantly, I nodded back.

"Well? Come on, man, out with it!"

I swallowed hard. "C-Captain, I have to lead a p-patrol into the zone. Find the generating ship. K-kill it."

"Are you nuts, Ace?" exclaimed Maniac. "No sensors? No shields? No missile locks? It's suicide!"

"No Maniac, it's worse than that!" I was afraid, more afraid than I'd ever been in my life. "You fly into the sitcom zone, and your brain cells start dying by the millions. Every minute that passes, your mind deteriorates that much more. The effects were well documented during the Dark Ages of the late Twentieth and early Twenty-first Centuries. By the time they were outlawed in 2058, it was estimated that TV situation comedies had set humanity back by two centuries!"

I saw the horror on my companions' faces; horror and stark terror. We were prepared to die--the risk was part of our profession--but it was something else to risk your very sanity.

Even so, Hulk hesitantly raised his hand. "Uhhhh, Hulk have no brain cells to spare, but Hulk go with Colonel anyway."

Catsup, too, raised his hand. "I'll g-go, too, sir."

I looked expectantly at Maniac. He glared back. "Forget it, Ace! I'm not risking MY sanity! You go. You're already SHORT of brain cells as it is! Ha ha ha!"

"Maniac, you are a never-ending source of inspiration."

I turned back to my volunteers. "Thanks, Hulk, Catsup. Your offer means a lot to me. But what we need in the zone is speed. Zelda--Chief Morgenstern—has had all her people working for the last couple of hours, beefing up the armor on a pair of Banshees. As soon as they're ready, we go. Panties, who's our best Banshee pilot?"

I had never seen Panties afraid before, not until now. Despite her fear, however, she squared her shoulders and kept her voice even. "I am, sir! I-I volunteer."

I could have hugged her. "Thanks, Panties. Maniac, if we don't return, you lead the next attack. I want Hulk to stay out of the zone." I jabbed my finger at Maniac. "If you fucking screw up, TODD, I'll have your fucking balls! And I don't mean the ones Zelda gave you!"

Maniac acted hurt. "Moi? When have I ever screwed up, Ace?"

*

I took my time suiting up, glad no one else was in the Wombat locker room to see how my hands were shaking. I tried to assuage my fear with thoughts of Tamara. Despite the desperate circumstances, who could tell what would come of flying with her? Love had blossomed with Angel when we flew togeth--Hey, where'd my helmet go? Dammit, if Zelda was messing with it again...

Barr yelled at me from the hatch. "Hey, Bearki--er, Blair! Heehee! They're rolling out--Hohoho!--they're rolling out your ship, man!

Now what? Was Barr suffering from sitcom overexposure? Annoyed, I headed for the hatch to the flight deck. First a missing helmet, now a sitcom-happy tech. I was going to shape up these damn Border Worlders, or my name wasn't—Jesus Christ!

I froze halfway through the hatch. Before me, the deckhands were spotting my Banshee for launch. At least, I thought it was my Banshee. The bird was festooned with pots, pans, gratings, and armor odds and ends; it looked more like a junkpile than a fighter. All around me, deckhands, techs, and pilots were pointing at the contraption and laughing their fool heads off.

My shock was replaced by anger. I strode over to Zelda, who was supervising the rollout. "Chief, what the HELL is that? I thought you were going to add another layer of conventional armor!"

She was dirty and obviously very tired, but she smiled with pride. "We did better, love! I got the idea from all that extra kitchenware we picked up at Orestes III. Spaced armor. Twice the protection, with only half the extra mass of armor plate. Not bad for two hours' work, if I do say so myself!"

I wasn't impressed. "Dammit, Chief, you've got everything here but the kitchen--"

Zelda pointed to the ventral auxiliary exhaust port. "Over there. The ceramic also reduces your infrared signature. Neat, huh?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Panties emerging from the Gopher locker room. She froze in shock when she saw her Banshee, which was decorated much like mine. Seeing me with Zelda, she shot me a you-got-to-be-kidding look. I could only shrug.

Noticing that Panties was also helmet less, I confronted Zelda again. "Chief,what the hell have you done with our helmets?"

Her smile disappeared. "Er, certain vulnerable points could only be protected with formed plasteel. Unfortunately, the only plasteel aboard is in the flight helmets." She looked away uncomfortably. "We, uh, melted down all the pilots' flight helmets and used the plasteel on your ships."

"WHAT?"

"Even that wasn't enough. Luckily, the ship's lasagna works almost as well."

"I'm armored with LASAGNA?"

She nodded. "Amazing stuff. Organic, yet nearly as hard as plasteel. I think our balky food synthesizers have just revolutionized chemical engineer--"

"Wait a minute!" I had more immediate concerns. "If you've melted down our flight helmets, what are we going to wear?"

Without a word, Zelda knelt and picked up two deep saucepans from the deck. I saw durafoam inside, shaped to fit a human head. The flight deck crowd, which had quieted somewhat, now exploded again in laughter. Even Zelda couldn't suppress a tiny giggle.

I stared at the pots in dismay, painfully aware of the laughter around me. "No way! Not a chance, Chief!" Panties, who had joined us, also shook her head vigorously.

Whoops! Suddenly Zelda turned mean. She grabbed me by the ear and dragged me behind her into her workshop.

"Ow! Ow! Cut it out, Chief! Ow! Ow!"

She stopped in front of her workbench and let go. I gingerly felt my ear. Damn, she was strong!

Zelda banged the saucepans on the bench. "OK, hotshot, back to school! What happens when a missile hits your ship? Even if the shields hold!"

I was still rubbing my ear. "Er, impact shock? Maybe?"

"Right!" She picked up a large wrench, then reached into a mini-fridge under the bench and took out an egg. She held it up so I could see it.

"This is your brain." She set the egg on the bench.

"This is your brain with a helmet." She put a saucepan over the egg, then dropped the wrench. I flinched at the CLANG! of wrench on saucepan. Zelda lifted the saucepan, revealing the egg, which was of course unharmed.

"Now, flyboy, this is your brain without a helmet!" She dropped the wrench right on the egg. I cringed. Ouch, that poor brain--er, egg!

Zelda folded her arms. "Any questions?"

Staring at the remnants of the egg, I said, "OK, you win." Reluctantly, I picked up a saucepan.

As I turned to go, my eye was caught by another object leaning against the end of the bench. "Uh, what's that for, Chief?" I asked, pointing.

"The wok? I installed one under your seat." She reached into the fridge again and grabbed two more eggs.

Suddenly my stomach felt queasy. "Er, ah, no demo necessary, Chief. I, uh, concur. Heh heh." I tried not think about the effect of a falling wrench on two unprotected, er, "eggs."

Back on the flight deck, the crowd of onlookers had grown again. It seemed everyone not on duty was here, gathering on the catwalks, standing on loaders, and climbing on fighters for a better view. Most of them were still laughing.

The merriment rose when two of Zelda's techs strapped "helmets" on Panties and me. Several crewmen were snapping holopics. Someone aimed a holocam at us. Panties, red as a beet, was biting her lip, trying very hard not to scream.

I looked upward. Please, God, get us to our fighters without any more ridicule, OK? Please? I promise to be good for--Oh no! Maniac! Not HIM, God!

As Maniac sauntered over, the peanut gallery hushed in anticipation. "Gee, Ace," he said. "That looks uncomfortable. Here, let me help you." He rapped sharply on the top of my "helmet," which promptly slid down over my eyes and stuck fast.

The crowd burst into laughter again. As I struggled to free myself, Maniac took the handle and spun me to face the gallery. He reached over and grabbed Panties' handle with his free hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen! May I present the Heart of the Kitchen, and his trusty sidekick Brillo!" Holding both Panties and myself by our headgear, he forced us to bow. When I finally yanked my "helmet" from my eyes, I saw most of the crew helpless with laughter. A couple of medics were trying to help the ones who'd passed out, but handicapped as they were by their own mirth, their efforts were ineffectual. As I watched, one of the medics keeled over as well.

I set my jaw and took Panties by the hand. Crying tears of humiliation, she allowed herself to be led to her fighter. Then I strode to my own bird, stoically trying to ignore the rude jokes from the spectators. I failed.

As I settled into my seat, Zelda planted a farewell kiss on my cheek. "Comeback to me, Chris," she said.

I shoved her away. I was in no fucking mood for sentiment. I wanted to kill something, anything, and I wanted to kill it fast!

Soso appeared on the comm. "Cleared for launch, Earthw--Ohmygod! Heeheehee! Nice, er, helmet, sir! I take it the military gourmet look is IN this year? Heeheehee!

Bitch! "How would you like this helmet up your--" Too late, she had already signed off. Damn that woman!

*

Somehow Panties and I managed to complete preflight and launch, with laughter in our ears and rage in our hearts. I momentarily switched my view to the rear and stared back at Intrepid. If I'd been carrying torpedoes, the carrier would have been space dust.

My mood wasn't improved when we entered the sitcom zone. Sensors were useless, shields non-functional, and the comm was intermittent. As I performed the familiar and comforting activities of flight, however, my normal good humor gradually reasserted itself. Presently, I decided to check on Panties.

"Panties? Comm check. Panties? Panties?"

When she finally answered, her voice was harsh. "Comm flaky. Now shut the fuck up!"

Whoa! "Uh, Panties, it's not really their fault. They're probably suffering from sitcom exposure and--"

"Shut up!" she screamed. "Shut up! I just want to hear one thing from you, you bastard! Promise you'll never fucking put me on your fucking wing again!" She signed off.

So much for romance on the wing. Too bad Panties couldn't see the humor in our situation. You had to admit, we were a pretty funny--Hey! That gave mean idea! Hmmm. We could only carry dumbfires on this mission, but they would do just fine. I started fiddling with the fuse settings...

*

I checked the time. We were over two hours into the mission, and it was starting to wear me down. Panties and I were swiveling our necks furiously, trying to use our eyes to replace our useless sensors. The optical assists were working, but given the ranges involved in space combat, we were still essentially blind.

My neck and shoulders were aching, yet I dared not relax my vigilance. Even worse, I was beginning to exhibit symptoms of sitcom overexposure: sluggish thinking, short attention span, and an overwhelming urge to buy mouthwash and deodorant. If we didn't spot something soon, we'd have to turn--

"There's the bad guys, Earthworm!" yelled Panties. "Check your six!"

"Check yours, Panties! There's TWO of them!" Shit! The Excaliburs had seemingly come out of nowhere! I punched afterburner, but I had little chance with an Excalibur on my tail.

The enemy pilot knew he had me. "Your luck's running out, pilgrim!" he called. Bambambam! Tachyon blasts lashed my rear armor.

That's when I played my ace in the hole. I launched a dumbfire, fused for a one-second delay. The flash brilliantly lit up my fighter for the enemy pilot following me.

"You Border Worlder low--What the hell? Bwahahaha! What a fuckin' pile of junk! Hahahaha! Hohohoho!" Helpless with laughter, my opponent lost lock and flew right by me. "Hahahaha! Where'd you get the jalopy, Captain Scrapyard! Heeheeheehee!"

I had the last laugh. I glued myself to his tail and let fly. Ploop! Ploop! Ploop! With no power going to the shields, I could fire as fast as the guns could cycle! Ploop! Ploop! Even with the extra power to my engines, the Excalibur was faster than my overloaded Banshee, but I punched through his shields before he could open the range. Relentlessly, I tore him to shreds. Ploop! Ploop! Ploop! KABOOM! Die, sitcom pimp!

I looked for Panties.

"I need some help, Earthworm!" Shit, she was in trouble!

I hit burner. No time to tail this bastard, it was a miracle Panties' armor had lasted this long. I lined up a dumbfire and launched. No chance of a hit, but it might make him break off...Yes!

Recklessly, I approached from his flank. Ploop! Ploop! Ploop! Hah, hits! I flashed by. Not enough to penetrate his shields, but enough to piss him off. Yes, he was coming after me!

"Eat THIS, Gomer!" he yelled. Tachyon blasts bracketed my fighter. I jinked my Banshee desperately, but I was taking hits.

"Let's dance, you bastard!" Panties was screaming like her fighter's very namesake! Ploop! Ploop! Ploop! I switched to aft view and watched her rip the Excalibur apart. KABOOM!

Whew! Two down. Nobody in sight. Time to take stock.

"What's your status, Panties?"

"I took some hits, Earthworm. Burner is out, rear armor gone. You?"

"No systems damaged, but I'm bare-ass, too. We may not survive another scrap. Form on my wing, we're going home." Damn, we'd failed!

*

By the time we neared the edge of the sitcom zone, my mind was reeling on the verge of insanity. Although as a female, Panties had more resistance to sitcoms, neither one of us would have made it alone. She and I had been forced to rouse each other repeatedly from encroaching torpor, yet each comm check only increased our exposure to the insidious jamming.

Again and again I found my fingers creeping toward the afterburner control. Each time, I managed to fight down the urge to abandon Panties, but it was getting harder and harder to keep control.

I shook my head to clear it. Damn, I'd been staring blankly at the stars again, the "Brady Bunch" theme song running through my head. Time for another comm check.

"Panties? Yo, Panties." Oh shit, was she out again? "Panties!"

At length, she replied. "Uh, Earthworm? What's, uh, up?"

Damn, I couldn't remember why I'd called. "Uh...I forget. It'll come to me in a...Say, that's a really neat-looking fighter coming up on your six. Looks like one of...Yeah, it's a Bearcat."

Panties seemed mildly pleased at the prospect of seeing the fabulous new fighter. "...Bearcat? That new Confed bird? That's nice..."

"Yeah, we sure are luck--SHIT! Break, Panties! Break! This way!" God, we'd nearly succumbed to the zone!

Panic was an effective short-term antidote to sitcom exposure. Panties threw her Banshee into a max turn just as the enemy opened fire on her. Though frags flew off her bird, she escaped the worst of the barrage. A missile streaked toward her, but lost lock when she dropped some decoys. It seemed the enemy's missiles weren't entirely immune to the jamming.

I flung my fighter directly at the oncoming Bearcat, praying that Panties would take the one I knew must be on my tail. I opened up at max range, firing the scattergun as fast as I could. His armament was heavier, but he'd expended most of his gun charge on Panties. After a few seconds of the one-sided duel,he broke off.

I activated sensors, recoiling momentarily from the barrage of sitcom images I'd unleashed. At this range, however, my sensors broke through the static, and I could see that I'd neutralized his shield generators. Sensors off again, I renewed my assault. He was opening the range, but I knew his shields would buckle any second...Yes! A blizzard of armor fragments engulfed my ship. As engine damage accumulated, he lost speed rapidly. A final blast and he was finished. KABOOM! An escape pod flew away from the wreckage.

WhoopwhoopWHAMMO! The impact threw me against the canopy, jamming my "helmet” over my eyes again. Damn, he must have launched an FF just before I got him! I struggled with the stubborn pot for several seconds before it popped off. Still dizzy from shock, I struggled to focus my eyes on the instruments. Shit, all weapons were out, sensors and shields down--like it mattered--and my autorepair was damaged. Fragments had penetrated the cockpit, which had self-sealed; fortunate, since my "helmet" was no protection at all against vacuum.

Groggily, I tried to collect my thoughts. What was I supposed to--Panties! Oh God, was she all--

"Score one for the good guys!"

A brilliant fireball blossomed to port. So Panties hadn't just been bragging about her flying skills. I headed for the fireball. Panties had to be somewhere near it. Luckily my tough little Banshee's engines and flight controls were still undamaged.

I found Panties a few hundred klicks from the expanding cloud of Bearcat debris. Her exo-armor was battered, melted, and burned through in a number of places. The Banshee was sputtering along at less than a hundred kps.

"Panties, are you OK?"

Her voice was a bit unsteady, but still strong. "Sorry, Earthworm, I've about had it. But I nailed that son-of-a-bitch. Yours?"

"He ejected. If I can contact--"

"Then let's cook him now!" There was a rage in her voice I'd never heard before. "I wanna waste every one of those damn--"

"Easy, Panties!" I carefully maneuvered my ship between her and the floating pod. "We need this guy alive! If I can just contact Intrepid to get a shuttle out here--"

"Can we be of assistance, Earthworm?"

Huh? Who was--Archie!

"Lovey! Is Dovey with you?" I searched the whole dorsal hemisphere, but my eyes still weren't focusing properly.

"Right here, Earthworm! Dovey is snug and warm!" Thank God Tina was OK, too!

I finally spotted them at five o'clock low. "What happened to you guys? We thought you were history!"

Lovey laughed. "Sorry, Earthworm. When we found we could manage with the jamming, we decided to continue the recon mission."

"But our navcomps couldn't handle it," said Tina, "and we got lost. Now we're nearly out of gas, returning at minimum speed."

I was dying to ask how they'd managed to survive so many hours in the sitcom zone, but there was no time. If another patrol caught us, we'd be in deep doo-doo.

"OK, listen up, everybody. Panties is crippled and my weapons are out. I'm going to burn out of the zone and send for help. Tractor in that pod and follow at your best speed. See you soon."

"Roger," said Tina. "Uh, by the way, Earthworm, did you know your bird looks like--"

"Yeah, yeah!" I was tired of people laughing at my flying junkyard. "Just get the pod, OK? Earthworm out!" Sheesh.

*

Leaving the sitcom zone was like waking from a nightmare. The joy of clear thinking was tempered, however, by guilt about my comrades still back in the fog. Well, the best way to help them was to vector in some escorts.

Though still at the fringes of the zone, I was just able to make voice contact with Intrepid. SoSo acknowledged my request and signed off. Shaking from the brief exposure to the jamming, I decided to shut down my comm until final approach.

*

I nearly cried with joy when I saw SoSo's face on the comm. After the fear and oppression of the zone, everything around me seemed to sparkle, as if brand new. I felt like I'd been reborn.

"Pleased to have you back out of the 'hole,' Earthworm!" Oh God, SoSo's voice was like music! "And we can't wait to get our hands on your pris--What the hell? Bwahahahaha! Stop, stop, you're killing me! Hahahaha! Oh, Colonel, if you could only see--Heeheeheehee!"

Goddammit, now what? Was everyone aboard sitcom-happy?

"Oh Chris, this you've gotta see! Heeheehee! S-switching to external view. "The comm screen changed to a relay from one of Intrepid's landing cams. I stared in dismay as it zoomed in on my battered fighter. Oh, shit!

Enemy fire had stripped off most of my add-on pots and pans, and melted the rest in several places. In particular, the extra lasagna and plasteel on the ventral boom had bubbled and flowed until the boom resembled--quite closely--a rather slender but anatomically correct, er, dildo. My Banshee looked like a legless hunchback with outstretched arms and an enormous hard-on.

I covered my face with my hands. I was never going to hear the end of this.

*

Trying to ignore the echoing laughter from the crowd around my bird, I climbed down the ladder as calmly as I could. Seeing I was in no mood for affection, Zelda limited herself to a peck on the cheek before climbing up to the cockpit. Meanwhile, I steeled myself to receive the ribbing of my life.

Barr was first. Grasping my hand, he said, "Welcome back...C-C-Colonel Dildo! Wahahahaha!" He collapsed to the deck, doubled over with laughter.

"Hey, Colonel!" I turned to find Louise caressing my bird's, er, appendage. "If I rub it, does it get BIGGER? Wheeheehee!"

Yanni was standing next to her. "You know, Chris, when I said size doesn't matter? Well...I LIED! Heeheeheehee!" She and Louise exchanged high fives.

Louise called over to Lt. Homes. "Hey, Churlokk? Know what? You've been replaced! Hahahaha!" She rubbed her fanny against the tip of the boom as the crowd roared its approval.

Oh Christ, even Maniac was getting into the act. Shaking his head, he looked at the fighter, then at me, as if sizing us up. "Y'know, Earthworm? Next to this thing, you look more like an INCHworm! Ha ha ha! Oh, I kill myself!" The onlookers seemed to agree...loudly.

Damn. I had actually had a pistol pointed at his nose, and I hadn't pulled the trigger! Damn! Damn!

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled to find Zelda standing there, a smirk on her face.

Et tu, Brute? "OK, Chief, get it over with." I braced for a particularly nasty zinger.

She didn't say a word. Instead, she held up an object I recognized as the wok she'd installed under my seat. Only now it was pitted and dented, with several pieces of shrapnel deeply embedded in it just about where--

I had a vision of two eggs being crushed by a falling wrench. All of a sudden, the mission, the boisterous crowd, even Maniac, faded into the background. Zelda had saved my, er, eggs, and that was all that mattered. I owed this kid big time.

I mustered a smile. "Do you still have those two eggs?" She nodded. Offering my hand, I said, "Come on, Chief, I'll make you an omelette a la Blair."

Her smirk grew into a grin. Carelessly tossing the wok over her shoulder, she took my hand and squeezed affectionately.

Hand in hand, we strode through the parting crowd. With my free hand, I unstrapped the saucepan from my head and hefted it experimentally. Yup, with the durafoam removed, it would do.

I glanced back at the now-silent crowd. Let them have their petty little jokes! I had something better: the best damn tech in the Union Militia!

And I still had both my "eggs," too!

End of Chapter 19

Previews from Chapter 20:

"He thinks he's a tough guy, Panties. Well, we'll see just how tough he is."

"But then, betrayal is always a mystery, isn't it?"

"Hey, Ace! I got somethin' for ya!"

"Mayday! Panties and Earthworm need help! Mayday!"

Chapter 20

In Zelda's fridge we found cheese and green onions; from my stash we got bacon, mushrooms, and seasonings. We walked into Intrepid's manual kitchen with the ingredients for a pretty decent omelette. Politely refusing her offered help, I set to work with a will. After two years of the single life, it was a joy to cook for two. It also turned out to be excellent therapy for the horrors of the sitcom zone; as I scooped out the final product, I was actually whistling.

When we carried our trays out, I noted with relief that the galley was nearly deserted. I had to endure a few lame dildo jokes--one illustrated with a hotdog--but the taunting ended as soon as the jokers got a whiff of our food. As they skulked out of the galley, green with envy, I had the last laugh.

Despite her protests, I gave Zelda the lion's share of the omelette. She had earned it, of course, and anyway they were her eggs. I waited expectantly ass he took her first bite; I wasn't disappointed. Zelda's reaction to Blair cuisine, after so many days of Intrepid's swill, was just short of orgasmic.

She savored that first taste for a long time before swallowing. "Oh God, Blairbear," she said, her eyes still closed. "You feed me like this, and I'll take care of your eggs for the rest of your life."

I smiled. "Is that a proposal, Chief?"

She opened her eyes. "Not yet, sweetie," she said confidently. "When the time comes, you'll be the one making the proposal." Zelda eagerly shoveled another forkful into her mouth.

I knew it was hopeless, but for just a moment I tried to picture Zelda back on my farm, wife to me and mother to my kids. Ehhhhh, no; it just wouldn't come into focus.

"That time will never come, Chief. But for the rest of this tour, at least, I wouldn't trust my, er, 'eggs' to anyone else."

Her mouth full, Zelda just smiled.

*

We barely had time to polish off the omelette before I was summoned to the flight deck to meet Panties and her wingmen, returning with our prisoner. Zelda went right back to work armoring another pair of Banshees while I, still dabbing at the spot where Zelda had kissed me in the lift, went to interrogate our new guest.

I found him sitting on a toolchest under Archie's Vindicator, surrounded by grim-faced deckhands, techs, and pilots. Hulk was holding him from behind while Panties, still in her flight suit, enthusiastically worked him over. Maniac stood to one side, singing to himself.

As Panties drew back her fist to hit the pirate again, I grabbed her arm and held her back. "Enough, Panties," I said quietly.

Angrily, she shook me off. "Oh yeah? Thanks to him and his friends, I had to fly out there in THIS!" She kicked at the saucepan on the deck. "I owe this guy some pain!"

I understood her anger all too well, but we needed persuasion here, not force. I signaled Hulk to let go of the prisoner. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip.

The pirate tore himself loose from Hulk's huge hands and wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve. Never taking his eyes off me, he spat blood on the deck. Meanwhile, I regarded him with unconcealed curiosity.

The guy had long, dirty black hair drawn back into a pigtail, and at least a three-day beard. Over his left eye he wore a black eyepatch. Instead of a flight suit, he wore a long, wine-red coat with brass buttons, a ruffled whiteshirt, short tight pants, stockings, and buckle shoes. A feathered tricorner hat lay on the deck next to him.

A parrot, of all things, was standing on his shoulder. How it had kept it sperch during its master's pasting was a mystery to me. Obviously upset, it hopped from foot to foot, squawking "Rawwwk! Border World low-life! Barbarians! Rawwwk!"

The pirate reached one hand up to calm his pet. "Easy, me girl," he cooed. Then he turned his attention back to me. After looking me up and down, he spat again. "Aye, ye be the Heart of the Tiger, all right. Shiver me timbers, I didn't expect the bleedin' Spanish Inquisition from an hon'rable gentleman such as yerself!"

As if on cue, Maniac awoke from his stupor. "NOBODY expects the Spanish--"

"Shut up, Maniac!" Dammit, what had set HIM off? I turned back to the pirate. "I'm sorry about the rough stuff, but you must know the effect your jamming has on us. Look, you respect honor, right? How can you to be part of such a dirty business?"

Yes! That hit him hard. He looked down at his shoes.

I had to follow up, fast. Looking around, I saw Catamaran approaching with a thermos of coffee. Quickly, I signaled to him, and he handed me a freshly poured cup. I walked back to the pirate and put my hand on his shoulder.

He looked up. "Aye, that be true, matey. 'Tis a dirty business indeed, and I be glad t' be arter it." Noticing the offered cup, he licked his parched lips and said, "Thank ye kindly, squire." Smiling, I handed him the coffee.

I had forgotten how our foul grub would taste to strangers.

The pirate gulped his coffee eagerly, only to gag on the first swallow. Eyes bulging, cheeks bursting, he grabbed desperately at his throat before spraying a mouthful of coffee all over Panties. His parrot squawked in indignation and flew up to land on Archie's Vindicator.

Holding his stomach, the pirate cursed at me between coughs. "Damn ye, Blair! Damn ye to hellfire 'n brimstone! Tryin' t' poisonme, eh?"

Mad as a wet hen, Panties went for the prisoner again. It was all Hulk coulddo to restrain my kicking and screaming wingman.

Angrily, the pirate taunted her. "Arrr, do yer worst, ye scurvy wench! I been tortured by the Kilrathi theyselves, aye, but I never sang fer 'em!" He tore open his shirt, revealing his old scars. "Ye'll be gettin' nothin' arter me,lass! Arrr!"

Shit. We'd just have to do this the hard way. I put a hand on Panties' arm to calm her down. "He thinks he's a tough guy, Panties. Well, we'll see just how tough he is." The guy just glared at me.

I looked two bays down, where Zelda was applying more lasagna to a Banshee. In a voice dripping with honey, I called out, "Oh, Zeeeeelda! Come over here, sweetie!"

"Yes, Blairbear?" she called back. Zelda jumped down from the Banshee and bounded eagerly to me. Taking her by the shoulders, I turned her toward the prisoner, who eyed her warily.

I let him have it. "All right, you scum! Now talk, or Zelda here will make passionate love to you!" I reached for Zelda's front zipper.

For one awful second, I watched the fear build in his eyes. "Aaaaa! No! No! Anything but that! I'll talk! I'll talk!" In a panic, he dropped to the deck and began scrawling a crude diagram, using his own blood.

"Here!" he cried desperately. "Here at the center of the zone! A Bingo-class frigate! Cloaked, but it has to uncloak every six hours...too much mass...strain on the equipment! At least an hour before it can cloak again!" In a panic, he checked his watch. "Next uncloak in five hours!"

He shoved his finger up his nose to get more blood, then made two more dabs near the one in the center. "Two more frigates patrol the zone, take out Union ships and scouts, protect the jammer. About a dozen Bearcats and Excaliburs on each! Killed several cargo ships and two Banshees already!"

I heard a horrified gasp from Lt. Mourne. I remembered that she and Moose had been seeing a lot of each other lately. Well, that explained why he and Squirrel were overdue.

The pirate looked up from his diagram, pleading. "That's everything. Now for pity's sake, take her away! Please! Oh, plee-hee-heese!" Quickly I pulled Zelda aside, but it was too late. Out of his mind with terror, the pirate lunged at Hulk, grabbed his sidearm, and put the muzzle to his own temple. His hands were shaking so hard, however, that he missed completely, hitting instead a toolbox above him on the tool chest. The box was blown off the chest,landing squarely on the pirate's head. He slumped to the deck, unconscious.

Louise was at his side in an instant. Checking his pulse, she said, "He's still alive, Colonel. Shall we get a stretcher?"

Reluctantly, I nodded. I wasn't sure we were doing this guy a favor. Having looked into the Abyss, he'd never be a whole man again. It would have been kinder to shoot him.

I turned to Zelda. "Sorry, Chief, but it was the only way--" I stopped. Her face bore a hurt worse than I had ever seen before, even under Maniac's meanest taunting.

She replied in a monotone, eyes downcast. "That's OK, Colonel...You did what had to be done...You always do...no matter what the cost." She turned and shuffled disconsolately back toward the bay where she'd been working.

There was a moment of silence, and then, in unison, the people around me went "Awwwwwww." They all looked at me, accusation in their eyes.

Shit! I owed Zelda everything, and this was how I repaid her? I was lower than the creature I'd taken as my callsign. I was...Oh God, I was even lower than Maniac!

Barr was up on a ladder, trying to get the pirate's parrot. When he reached for it, it fluttered away and alighted on my shoulder. I looked at it sadly. "Go away, bird," I said. "A classy girl like you shouldn't be seen with a heel like me."

"Rawwwk! Blair is a heel! Heehee!"

*

All I wanted was to crawl into a hole and die, but of course Wing Commanders don't have the luxury of wallowing in guilt. Captain Eisen and Lt. Cmdr. Queue cornered me immediately, and I had to report on the mission.

Throughout the debriefing, my new pet kept interrupting with "Eisen is a jerk!" and "Queue is a moron!" Its antics were like a tonic for my depression. By the end of the session, I was smiling and Eisen and Queue were royally pissed.

I passed the word for the wing to prepare for a maximum launch in about two hours. Now that we had concrete information about our target's location and cloaking schedule, it was time to go all-out after it. I took a special pleasure in ordering everyone to wear headgear on this mission; if Panties and I were going to be laughingstocks, so were the rest of my pilots!

*

I should have rested after my ordeal in the sitcom zone, but I was anxious to catch the next Nightly News broadcast, which SoSo was now piping into the galley on a regular basis. Besides, my new companion was probably getting hungry, although I wasn't sure how she'd handle Intrepid's unique cuisine.

The galley was crowded; evidently others were anxious to see the news, too. I got a few crackers and some water from the food dispenser and looked for a table. SoSo and Catamaran waved to me, but I just smiled and shook my head. Tina, Archie, Louise, and Churlokk were sitting with them; as a bachelor, I'd be out of place at a pairs table. Instead, I went over to the table where Lt. Mourne was sitting alone, and sat down across from her.

Though she greeted me nonchalantly, I noticed she had barely touched her food. Remembering my own loss, so long ago, I struggled to find the right words.

"September, I'm sorry about Moose. When I joined Intrepid, he was the only Border Worlder who'd fly with me. I'll miss him."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "He was a nice guy. I was just finding out how nice when..." She took a deep breath. "Anyway, I'm glad we're going after those pirates again. I owe them some payback." She stood up to leave.

Damn, first Panties, now her. That kind of attitude would get them both killed.

I grabbed her wrist. "Lieutenant! You fly with your heart on this mission, and I'll ground your ass for the rest of your life! When you fly for me, you fly with your head! Got it?"

She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Got it, sir." She took her tray to the disposal and left the galley without another word.

Absently, I transferred the parrot from my shoulder to the table and offered her a cracker. I hoped Lt. Mourne wouldn't have to learn her lesson the hard way, as Flint had. Then I smiled, remembering the fiery scene in the Victory's Gunnery Control, when Robin had demanded a return to flight status. We'd both been so turned on that we did it right there, behind the main console. After that I started grounding her for the most minor infractions--which she cheerfully committed with increasing frequency--and reinstating her in Gunnery C--

My reverie was interrupted by the holovid. "Good evening. You're watching the TCN Nightly News. I'm Barbara Dahl."

"Rawwwk! Pretty baby!" I reached down to stroke my parrot's feathers. The little birdbrain definitely had an eye for beauty.

"Our top story tonight: Repercussions continue from the so-called 'Halcyon Incident'. Today, two previously uncommitted frontier worlds voted decisively to join the Union of Border Worlds. Top officials from the governments of planets GOT/MLK and JST/DOIT denounced the staged event as proof of Confed duplicity. Other frontier worlds, even some in the Confederation, are said to be wavering.

"In the Great Dissembly, the storm of protest over the incident helped the moderates delay once again the vote on a declaration of war with the Union. Senator Taggart, leader of the moderate faction, eloquently urged the Dissembly to await Admiral Tolwyn's report, as originally agreed."

Thank God my comrades on the Lexington had acted when they did. I had no doubts as to which way an immediate vote would have gone.

Barbara turned to her left. "Admiral Tolwyn is with us again tonight. Sir?"

I was startled by a squawk from my the parrot. "Rawwwk! Tolwyn is a jerk! Rawwwk!" Now how could this parrot know Tolwyn so well? Then I realized that its previous owner must have flown for Confed during the war, probably under Tolwyn's command.

In the HV display, the Admiral's holo-image appeared next to Barbara. He was sitting at a desk so much like hers that it was hard to distinguish the boundary between them. His uniform was, of course, crisp and immaculate.

"Good evening, Barbie--er, Barbara. How good to speak with you again."

As usual, Barbara went right to the tough questions. "Admiral Tolwyn, in the 'Halcyon Incident', the military was caught red-handed in a blatant attempt to arouse public opinion against the Border Worlds. Doesn't this lend credence to rumors that Confed is trying to provoke war with the Union?"

If he was upset at the implied accusation, Tolwyn didn't show it. "Barbara, as a result of this incident, my investigation of the frontier troubles has been broadened to include provocations by Confed military. While the story is still incomplete, we do know one thing already: examination of comm records proves conclusively that the conspiracy was hatched by a few zealots at the station,without the approval or the knowledge of their superiors at system HQ."

Of course Covert Ops would cover their tracks well. I just hoped Tolwyn knew more than he was letting on.

"Admiral, what about the Lexington's crew, who so courageously exposed the conspiracy?"

"The SRA is preparing court-martial proceedings against the accused officers. The Lexington people have information vital to the prosecution, so they—along with the destroyer crews--have been detained at Halcyon Station. I regret the necessity, for these patriots have performed above and beyond the call of duty. Of course, I have personally seen to their comfort, you can be sure of that!"

Whew! Under Tolwyn's personal protection, they'd be safe from Covert Ops. That was a load off my mind!

Barbara's inquisitorial tone softened somewhat. "My next question is more personal, Admiral. The Lexington is said to have been attacked by your old friend, the famous Colonel Christopher Blair, who recently defected to the Union. What was your reaction when you heard the news?"

Tolwyn's face was grim, and just a little sad. "Barbara, I cannot begin to describe how shocked I was. What could induce such a fine man to betray everything he held dear? But then, betrayal is always a mystery, isn't it?"

"Betrayal? Then you agree with those who are calling him a traitor?"

For a moment, his face showed the pain he must be feeling. "The question of treason is for a court-martial to decide. Colonel Blair has always been a bit...unorthodox, even eccentric. Oh hell, he's an arrogant, insubordinate, glory-stealing son of a--" He struggled for self-control. "Er, so some say. But because of his long and distinguished service to the Confederation, I'd not condemn him so quickly."

Barbara nodded sympathetically. "I understand. Thank you, Admiral Tolwyn."

The Admiral nodded in acknowledgment and fired his imaginary gun at her. "Catch you later, Barbi--Barbara!"

As the Admiral's image faded, Barbara faced front again.

"In these days of turmoil and confusion, one thing is certain: thanks to a few courageous warriors, the Confederation and the Union of Border Worlds have taken one small step back from the brink. But will the situation deteriorate again? Will the two antagonists resume their seemingly inexorable march toward Armageddon? The answer will come in three weeks, when the Admiral delivers his report, and the Great Dissembly votes for peace or war.

"In other news..."

I wasn't interested in "other news." Damn, damn, damn! If only I could get a message to Tolwyn! He had conspicuously refused to brand me a traitor. If I could get him the evidence we now had, I was sure he would listen to reason. But how to contact him?

Well, that would have to wait, because I had a more immediate problem. I'd just spotted Panties, who was heading for Catamaran's table. I waved at her, but she just scowled and ignored me. When I pointed angrily at the seat opposite, however, she grudgingly came over and sat down.

"If you want me on your wing again," she said coldly, "you can forget it. I'd rather fly with that stupid bird!" She pointed to my parrot, which was busy preening its feathers.

"Rawwwk! Pretty Panties! Awwwk! Blair is a jerk!"

Startled, Panties forgot her anger for a moment and cracked a smile. "That's close, sweetie! Now, can you say, 'Blair is an asshole?'"

The bird just went back to preening. I had an inspiration. Pushing a cracker toward Panties, I indicated that she should offer it to the bird.

Panties held the cracker enticingly. "Come on, birdie. Blair is an asshole. Blair is an--"

"Rawwwk! Blair is an asshole!" The parrot took the cracker with one foot and started munching on it.

Panties looked at me in triumph. Then we both burst out laughing.

"OK, OK," she said finally. "I'll fly with you one more time. But if I hear one more pothead crack..."

I hastened to reassure her. "I think that particular line of humor is about played out, Tamara, especially with everyone wearing pots this time out."

"I suppose so," she agreed. "Besides, it's not like the whole galaxy saw us in those awful--"

She was interrupted by the holovid, which someone had turned up for the final segment of the news.

"We close tonight with a look at the latest trend in military hardware. In response to the growing threat of war, the Border Worlds Militia has come up with an ingenious solution to its chronic equipment shortage."

Uh-oh. I had a bad feeling about this...

Barbara's image was replaced by a holocam recording, obviously made under field conditions. It showed--oh my God, it showed Panties and me on the flight deck in our cookware!

The galley exploded with derisive laughter. Cheeks burning, I raised my eyes. OK, God, what did I ever do to you? Huh? Just tell me, OK?

Barely controlling herself, Barbara went on, "Here we see the famous Heart of the Kitchen--er, Tiger--himself, and his wingman, Colonel Tamara Farnsworth, preparing for a mission in their--Heehee!--their stylish new flight helmets."

"Rawwwk! Heart of the Kitchen!" My bird's squawked commentary drew more hoots and rude remarks from the galley crowd.

I glanced at Panties, who was struggling to control her temper. Where the hell did the Nightly News get--Of course! I whipped out my McPuter and quickly logged in to the ship's Home G-Spot. Yeah, some damn idiot had uploaded the holorecs of our mission prep to the GGG! Shit!

Barbara continued relentlessly. "As we follow our intrepid pilots to their fighters, we see the true versatility of the Union's new gear." Now the cam was pointing at our pot-and-pan-armored Banshees. "Yes, c-cookware, headware, or hardware, the new Mark I multifunctional combat helmet does it all! D-don't leave your carrier without it! Wheeheeheehee!"

Fighting for breath, Barbara tried to sign off. "T-this has been the N-Nightly N-News. I'm Barb-Barb-bwahahahaha!" As she collapsed helplessly in her chair, the cam cut to the Nightly News logo.

There was a crash as Panties knocked her chair over and dashed out of the galley, pushing aside anyone in her way. I didn't blame her: a ribbing from one's comrades, no matter how biting, was one thing; being mocked in front off ifty billion people was something else entirely.

"Rawwwk! PMS! PMS!" I tried to stifle my parrot. If Panties heard that, she'd roast it over a slow fire.

"May I join you, Colonel Blair?"

Huh? Oh, it was Lt. Cmdr Queue.

He sat down next to me. Looking around at the boisterous crowd, he asked innocently, "Say, did I miss something, sir?"

Like lightning, I grabbed Panties' plate, with its untouched mashed potatoes, and shoved it in his face. "No, Ike, you didn't miss a thing." I gathered up my bird and left.

*

I spent the next two hours in the Control Bay, briefing my wing personnel and preparing for the desperate mission to come. In no mood for any more nonsense, I carried a photon pistol conspicuously at my side. With my parrot squawking "Do you feel lucky, punk! Awwwk! Make my day!" I heard no more cookware cracks.

When it was time for the final briefing, I left the parrot with Tech Barr, rounded up my squadron commanders, and accompanied them to CIC.

*

Captain Eisen and Lt. SoSo were waiting for us. In the main display behind them, I could see Admiral Willful standing at a craps table, wearing a tuxedo. Two gorgeous women in evening gowns were at his side. The compartment was full of smoke, but I could make out several other well-dressed people around him. The Admiral looked a lot better than he had last time, except that his hands were still shaking when he picked up the dice.

"Hello, Billy!" said the Admiral. "Oh, and the Flying Tiger! Congratulations on bagging that prisoner, Blair."

I bristled. "It's HEART of the Kitch--er, Tiger, Admiral."

"Whatever." He blew on his dice and tossed them. "Hah! Eight!"

Eisen cleared his throat. "Er, Admiral, we're just about ready for our attack on that jamming ship. Any intel updates?"

Willful held the dice up for his dark-haired companion to blow on. "Billy, with all Peleus traffic halted, our front-line units are already hurting badly. I'm afraid you must consider yourselves expendable. Don't wait for help, justgo all out and GET THAT JAMMER! If you don't, our endeavors are doomed!"

He was about to toss the dice when he thought of something else. "Oh, and Blair?"

What now? "Yes, sir?"

"What the HELL were you doing, clowning around in that damned kitchenware? It's already hard enough to recruit for the Militia, without the kids worrying about becoming galactic laughingstocks! From now on, wear regulation gear!"

"But, sir--"

The Admiral tossed his dice again. "Woohoo! Eight the hard way! Come to papa!" He reached down to rake in his winnings. "Good luck, Billy! Willful out!"

Eisen replaced the Admiral's image with a Peleus system diagram and turned to us. His face was grim. "OK, given the Admiral's orders, we have little choice. Intrepid and three frigates will launch a full strike in half an hour. The only fighter cover we're keeping is four Banshees from BWS Tie. As soon asthe first wave is off, the task force will follow you into the sitcom zone. If the fighters fail, there's a faint chance the cap ships can find and destroy the jammer before everyone in the task force...goes insane. Colonel?"

I turned to my people. "There are three pirate ships and maybe three dozen advanced fighters out there. Last time, Panties and I were jumped before we got near the center of the zone. This time, we're sending fighters in ahead of us. Hulk?"

Hulk snapped to attention. "Colonel?"

I outlined a search pattern. "Turkey Squadron will cover this area in teams of two. If you find a cap ship, attack at once. Lovey and Dovey will take the sector closest to the center, since they seem especially resistant to zone effects. By the way, Hulk, any idea why?"

Hulk shrugged. "Newlyweds. Ignore sitcoms. Blair get picture?"

Oh yeah, I got the picture. "Er, ahem. Panties, you'll be with me again, so have Excell lead the Gophers into this area here, OK? Panties! OK?"

"YES, SIR!" Still mad. Well, tough shit, I needed her on my wing. Damn, was there one minute on this tub when some female wasn't pissed off at me?

"Good. Primate's taking the Wombats into the last sector, here. Panties and I will be about fifteen minutes behind you in the two armored Banshees. The idea is for you to blast us a way through the pirate patrols. Now if we fail, Skunk squadron is our ace in the hole. Maniac? Maniac?" Damn, the nitwit was singing to himself again.

"...they all had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in..."

"Maniac!"

"Wha? Oh." He grinned at me. "I was with you all the time, Ace."

"Yeah, right. Look, the Avengers are useless against fighters, so I want your squadron to join up with the Banshees from the frigates and spread out well behind Panties and me. If we're nailed, you'll have to find and take out the jammer yourselves. Clear?"

"Huh? Er, yeah. I mean, no! Why do you get the glory mission, Ace? Send me in ahead, and I'll--"

Captain Eisen cut him off. "Major! Colonel Blair and Colonel Farnsworth have the best chance of killing that jammer, so we must give them every advantage! The plan of operations stands! Questions, anyone? No? Dismissed!"

*

I watched from Flight Control as Gopher, Wombat, and Turkey Squadrons prepared to launch. The techs had worked overtime preparing "helmets," and there was a lot of joking and laughter from the crew as the pilots tried on their new headgear. I had prepared a long list of taunts myself, but now that revenge was within my grasp, I lacked the heart to use them. Flying blind against superior fighters, my pilots would pay a terrible price to give me a shot at the jammer.

With a sigh, I gave up and headed for my locker.

A number of techs and deckhands were waiting outside the Wombat locker room. They gave me a thumbs-up as I walked in, and I returned the gesture. I had the place to myself, as the Wombats were already manning their fighters.

I stopped at my locker and opened the door. Without warning, an avalanche of dildos and vibrators poured out, piling around me up to my knees. I heard a chorus of laughter from the techs, who had followed me in.

Reflexively, I had grabbed one of the sex aids, a particularly large and anatomically detailed example. Now, irate, I squeezed it unconsciously with maniacal strength, causing it to bulge dangerously. This, of course, only provoked hysterical laughter from my audience. When I threw it at them, however, they left hastily, dragging one of their number who had collapsed to the deck.

Despite my rage, as I struggled into my flight suit I couldn't help wondering where the crew had gotten so many sex toys. Knowing the Border Worlders, they were probably standard issue.

*

I joined Panties on the flight deck. She was already wearing her saucepan, trying to pretend it was nothing out of the ordinary. Unable to find my own headgear, I looked for Zelda, but she was nowhere to be seen. I was on my way to her workshop when I was intercepted by Maniac. He was wearing his own shiny saucepan at a jaunty angle. On it the letters M-A-N-I-A-C were emblazoned, in black paint, above a stylized skull and crossbones.

"Hey, Ace!" he called. "I got somethin' for ya!"

I groaned. This was the last thing I needed.

Seeing my expression, Maniac held up his hand in reassurance. "No, no, this time I'm on the level, Ace. Here!" He took his hand from behind his back and revealed his peace offering.

It was a new saucepan, lovingly polished to a mirror shine. On one side, my name was painted in metallic red on a black background. On the other was a beautifully detailed emblem depicting a grinning tiger in fighting stance, wearing boxing gloves. Both were upside down, as he was holding the pan open side up, but I could make them out clearly.

Under my amazed stare, Maniac looked at his boots and shifted uncomfortably. "You see, Ace, when you flew into the zone, I...Well, I thought you might not be coming back, and I was sorry for...for making fun of you. I passed the time making this...I thought you'd come back for sure if you had something waiting for you." Diffidently, he met my gaze. "Peace?"

I was touched. I had to admit, our vicious rivalry had always had an element of mutual respect and, yes, even friendship. I had no illusions about a lasting peace, of course, but for now we could certainly call a truce.

I glanced aside at Panties, who was frantically shaking her head in warning. I ignored her. She was just in a bitchy mood.

"OK, Maniac," I said, a lump in my throat. "Thanks, pal." I reached for the saucepan.

Maniac grinned from ear to ear. "No, let me!" he said eagerly. He took the "helmet" in both hands and stood behind me. "Here goes, Ace!" In one quick motion, he set the cookware neatly on my head. It was a perfect--

Something warm, wet, and gooey was oozing down my head. I took a sniff...apple sauce! Goddamn that Maniac! I tried to wipe it out of my eyes, but succeeded only in smearing it all over my face. Just before Maniac pounded the pan down, blocking my vision, I caught a glimpse of Panties. She had one hand over her eyes, shaking her head in despair.

Maniac was laughing his head off. "Owahoohoohoo! I can't believe you fell for it, Ace! Hahahahaha! What a moron! Wheeheehee!" All around, I could hear deckhands, techs, off-duty crew, even the pilots in their fighters, laughing like hyenas. "Oh, Ace, this one's gotta go on the GGG, too! Hawhawhaw!"

The GGG! So Maniac was the culprit! In a blind rage, I leaped toward the sound of his voice. Of course I missed badly.

"Hah! Toro!" mocked Maniac. "Ole!" he cried, as I missed him again. Jeers and catcalls assailed my ears.

Suddenly, I was caught in a vicious earlock! Shit, it was Zelda! Where did she come from?

"Ow! Ow! Lemme go!" I raged. No use. I had to follow her or lose my earlobe. I did manage to pop off the saucepan, just as she dragged me into the head. She startled a male tech standing at one of the urinals, but seeing it was only Zelda, he relaxed and went on with his business.

Zelda forced me to kneel at one of the sinks and started scrubbing the goo out of my hair. "God, you're pathetic, Blair," she said. "'Fly with your head,'" you say! 'Keep your cool!' Then you lose your temper and make an idiot out of yourself!"

I burned with shame. She was right, of course... "But Zelda," I wailed, "it was MANIAC!"

That earned me a hard swat on the behind. "He's an IDIOT! What do you care what he thinks?"

I was clean now. Zelda shoved me over toward the dryer while she cleaned out the saucepan.

Under the warm air, I managed to calm down a bit. Dry and clean at last, I stood up and accepted the clean saucepan from Zelda. "Uh, thanks, Chief—er, Zelda. Especially after what I did..."

Her voice was softer now. "I know what it's like, Blairbear. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't let you go through it, too."

I put on the saucepan and buckled the strap. Taking her by both shoulders, I said, "Look, I want to make it up to you, Zelda. You name it. Your choice. "I'd probably regret this, but I had to make things right between us.

She brightened. "Deal! But now you have a mission to fly. Remember, Blairbear, you're the Heart of the Tiger! Get out there and act like it!"

Icily calm now, I strode out of the head and straight toward Maniac. He'd been entertaining his audience with jibes at Panties, but he stopped when he saw me coming. So did the onlookers. The flight deck was awash with the roar of launching fighters, but to me it was as quiet as a grave.

As I approached, Maniac backed up warily, looking left and right like a trapped rat. I stopped half a meter away. I stood still for a moment, then thrust out a finger at him. He flinched.

"Major Marshall! Skunk Squadron will launch precisely twenty minutes after us! Form up with the escort Banshees from the frigates, assume a search spread, and proceed to the center of the zone! You will attack and destroy any pirate craft you encounter! Is that clear?"

Cowed, he nodded vigorously.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" I bellowed.

Maniac sprang to attention and threw me a picture-perfect salute. "YES, SIR!"

Without bothering to return his salute, I turned and headed for my fighter. Panties stared at me as if I were from another dimension. When I impatiently motioned for her to get going, however, she took off for her bird at the run.

*

"Comm check, Panties. You OK?" We were nearly one hour into the mission, and beginning to suffer the effects of the sitcom zone again.

"OK, Earthworm. I was just wondering where Confed got a cloaker that would handle a cap ship."

"Oh, I know where they got it, Panties. Kilrathi prototype." Yeah, the one that financed Zeke's farm.

"What? How do you always know these things?"

"Hey, I'm the Wing C--Break, Panties! Bandits!" An Excalibur was sneaking upon her six.

By now Panties and I were experts at clearing each other's tails. We broke toward each other and took our opposite numbers head on. My target stayed on course for a couple of shots, then broke off too fast to follow. Damn, he wa sgood! I searched frantically, trying to acquire him again.

He taunted me on the general channel. "Hey, Gomer, I see you! What's it like without sensors, you poor blind bastard? Hahahaha!"

That gave me an idea. Quickly, I activated the comm. "I don't need sensors, asshole! I can SMELL you!" I stopped weaving and assumed a steady course.

"Smell me? You bastard, smell THIS!"

I chopped the throttle and prepared to fire...Yes! A couple of minor armor hits and then he flashed right by me, firing at nothing. Blasting away with my scattergun, I hit burner and maxed the throttle to stay with him.

The pirate panicked at my apparent clairvoyance. "Watch yourself, Buzz!" he screamed. Ploop! Ploop! "They can SMELL us! Let's get out--" Ploop!Ploop! KABOOM!

His wingman, taking hits from Panties behind him, was only too ready to believe him. "Smell us? Jesus Christ, no wonder!" Forgetting to change channels, hecalled to his mother ship. "Bee 3 to hive! Bee 3 to hive! Warning! Gomers have a new sensor, uses smell, repeat, smell! Our jamming useless! Warning--"KABOOM!

"Score one for the good guys, Earthworm!"

I joined up with Panties. She'd lost some rear armor, and her engines were damaged. I checked the time. Damn! With our speed reduced, we'd need a shitload of luck to find the jammer before it re-cloaked!

*

We searched fruitlessly for the jamming ship, our optic assists on max. Time was running out. If it cloaked again, we'd never find it.

Finally, Panties sang out. "Earthworm! Flash at two o'clock!"

What the-- The flash was faint, and faded immediately.

"Panties, somebody just bought it! Maybe one of ours!" We were just inside Gopher Squadron's sector.

"Then let's check it out, Earthworm. Maybe the jammer is nearby!"

We altered course and went to afterburner; fuel was the least of our concerns. I checked the time. Damn, the frigate would be cloaking any minute now!

This time we spotted them in front of us. "There's the bad guys, Earthworm! One, two, FOUR Bearcats! Ready to dance!"

"Panties! There, behind them! The frigate!"

At last! But those Bearcats would nail us before we could get close enough. With nothing to fear from our missiles, they could close in and overwhelm us with point-blank missile fire. We were dead, unless--

"Panties, kill burner! Set up for missile shots."

"What? But all we're carrying are dumbf--"

"Trust me!" I switched to the general channel, so the bandits could hear, too. "Panties! Bandits ahead! Set missiles for olfactory homing!" I managed to cut the comm before I burst out laughing. Now if only that last pirate's message had gotten through...

Yes! Ahead of us, the bandits suddenly veered off. I could just imagine their leader calling, "Damn, it's true! They do have smell sensors! Stay out of their missile envelopes!" Heehee, what a bunch of cretins!

I maintained the bluff as long as I could, pointing my ship at enemy fighters in succession, as if acquiring missile lock. Panties followed suit. The pirates, told to expect blind victims, were confused in the face of "targets" ready to fight back.

When we could no longer maintain the charade, I yelled to Panties, "Cover my run!" I hit burner, armed dumbfires in salvo mode, and aimed right at the distant frigate. Missiles and tachyon fire lashed out at me, but the angle was bad and nothing came close. I tried to ignore the converging fighters and concentrate on my target. I prayed it would stay visible just a few more...

OH NO! At about twenty-five thousand klicks, my target faded out. After all our efforts, we had failed. A black wave of despair washed over me.

Then I thought of Zelda. "Remember, Blairbear, you're the Heart of the Tiger! "She was right. I couldn't give up now, not while she believed in me!

As I neared the frigate's original location, I desperately peppered the area with my scattergun. Shit, no dice. Obviously the nimble frigate had changed course. Thumb hovering over the missile launch button, I turned randomly and continued spraying the area.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Shit, Panties couldn't keep them off me any more—if she was even still alive! I pumped out decoys and continued my frantic game of blind man's buff. No luck! We were doomed!

WhoopwhoopwhoopWHAMMO! The missile hit slammed my head against the canopy, jamming my "helmet" down over my eyes. Worse, I had inadvertently touched the launch button, and half my precious missile load took off after nothing.

Blindly, I took violent evasive action, frantically pushing at the saucepan. I managed to pop it off just in time to be dazzled by a brilliant flash at ten o'clock high.

"Earthworm!" screamed Panties. "You did it!"

"What? Did what?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to erase the dancing afterimages. Oh my God, the frigate was visible again, and venting plasma! My blind salvo had damaged the engines, cutting power to the cloaking and jamming gear! "Er, I mean, of course I did, Panties! I'm the Heart of the Tiger!"

Stunned by their defeat, the pirates gave me a moment's respite. That was all I needed. I routed gun power to shield recharge and lined up on the slowing frigate. A light touch on the launch button, and the aft third of my target went up in another brilliant flare.

I activated sensors and was overjoyed to find friendlies all around me. The wing and squadron channels were jammed with calls, so I switched to Archie's channel, praying he and Tina were where they were supposed to be.

"Mayday! Panties and Earthworm need help! Mayday!"

"Lovey and Dovey here! On burner, three minutes out. Hang on, Earthworm!"

Yes! "Panties, form on my wing!" Dodging tachyon fire and missiles, I managed to rendezvous with Panties' battered ship. We headed for Lovey and Dovey on burner, hit auto slide, and turned to fight off our tormentors as best we could.

With our extra armor and Panties' damage, we were making barely a thousand kps, but since our pursuers were flying INTO our fire, we had a tremendous range advantage. After we scored several unanswered ion hits, the pirates hung back. Their missiles, however, were another matter, since our maneuverability in autoslide was nil. Our decoys ran out before they ran out of missiles.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! "Panties, evade!" I killed burner and autoslide, and turned for all I was worth.

"You got it, Earthworm!" Panties' voice was strained. Crippled as she was,her life expectancy was now measured in seconds.

Whoopwhoopwhoo-- Missed! Hah! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Shit, turn, Blair! Oh no, Panties took an IR! Her shields are down...another hit! What's holding her Banshee together?

I hit burner again and angled for her attacker, who was peppering Panties witht achyon fire. Heedless of the approaching missiles, I raised gun power and blasted away. Ploop! Ploop! Ploop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ploop! Whoop!

Ploop--KABOOM! Whoop--WHAMMO! I took an IR just as my target exploded. Minor damage, shields took most of the blast, but now I had three after me. Panties was no longer maneuvering and probably dead; I wouldn't outlive her by more than a few seconds. Tachyon fire was taking out my rear armor, despite violent evasive maneuvers. Any second now...

CHUG CHUG CHUG! Hallelujah, two enemies leeched! The cavalry had arrived! I left the last Bearcat to Lovey and Dovey, and tried to raise Panties.

"Panties? Panties? Talk to me, girl!" Was she...

"Sorry...Earthworm, but I've...about had it." She was alive, but her voice was weak. "Wounded...slow air leak...barely flyable."

I commed our rescuers. "Lovey, Dovey, stick with us. We gotta get Panties back to the ship." Privately, I doubted she could make it, but we had to try.

*

All through that long flight back, we took turns keeping Panties awake and flying. We cajoled and bullied her, and when that failed, I hit her with the most vicious insults I could devise. That revived her fighting spirit for a time, and when it flagged again, I switched to knock-knock jokes.

Finally, even Panties' iron will gave out. She commed me one last time. "S-sorry, Earthworm...can't go on. Lost...too much blood...no air..."

No! "Come on, Panties, we're nearly there. Fight, baby, fight!"

"No...use. Bye...Chris...Wish we had...more time." Then there was only silence. Her ship began to drift out of formation.

No, God, not her, too! Fighting to control my voice, I played my last card. "T-Tamara! Just one question: Do you really give great head, like Maniac says?"

"W-what?"

"Yeah, he says you just can't get enough. You want him day and night--"

"THAT BASTARD! When I get back, I'm gonna tear his fucking nuts off and eat 'em for breakfast! I'll rip out his--" I sat back and enjoyed one of the most ferocious and detailed tirades I'd ever heard. I could hear Lovey and Dovey on the comm, trying hard to stifle their laughter and failing miserably.

*

SoSo was practically bubbling over. "We're fully operational now, Colonel! Great work! You have--"

"Can it, SoSo! Clear Panties first! She's in bad shape." She wasn't the only one. While shepherding her home, I'd been listening to the comm off and on. We'd lost several pilots, and others were returning shot up. It had been a costly victory.

*

I was one of the last ones to land, having defied regulations and given up my slot twice to badly damaged ships. Wearily, I taxied my flying junkyard into its bay and popped the canopy. Then I slowly climbed down the ladder.

Zelda skipped the kisses and just hugged me fiercely. I hugged back, reveling in her touch. That last fight had been much too close.

Finally we pulled apart. "Panties?" I asked.

"Forceps says she'll pull through. Don't worry, he's giving her plenty of painkiller." Seeing my expression, she added, "No, he's the same old Forceps. I just promised him another one of your six-packs."

"Heh heh. Good work, Chief."

"Oh, by the way," she said, a little too casually. "Major Marshall is overdue. Tex lost visual contact with him early on, and he hasn't called in."

For a moment I dared hope, but then I remembered who we were dealing with."He'll turn up," I said sadly. "Probably with half a dozen scalps. But enough about him. I believe I owe you a debt. You ready to collect?"

She nodded, and held out her hand. In it was her lottery chit. Her cabin time was less than sixteen hours away.

I thought of our pirate prisoner, now drooling all over his straitjacket in sick bay. I wondered how many six-packs Forceps would charge me for a cyanide pill...

End of Chapter 20

Previews from Chapter 21:

"Um, sir, when you...when you bombed Kilrah, did that...make it right about Colonel Devereaux?"

"A better question, Blair, is what are YOU doing here?"

"Ohhhh. Oh, Blairbear, that's wonderful! Please, don't stop."

"Hey, thanks, Goober! Let's go kill another one of your tanks!"

Chapter 21

Fortunately, I had plenty of work to keep my mind off my impending date with Zelda. The returning pilots had to be debriefed immediately to determine if we'd neutralized all the pirates. Lt. Cmdr. Queue was overwhelmed, so I was forced to put off the other problems clamoring for my attention and help him out.

My pilots were in bad shape. Our numerical advantage had been more than offset by the pirates' superior fighters and immunity to zone effects. Again and again, my people described how they'd been ambushed and damaged or forced to eject by an enemy they never even saw. They'd exacted a measure of revenge after the jamming ended, but now, shaky and exhausted, they hardly felt like victors.

Lieutenants Mourne, Nune, and Knight were the last Skunks to return. Nune's Avenger was badly shot up; Mourne and Knight had suffered light damage. I hustled them into the Skunk ready room and poured three cups of coffee—real coffee from my own stash.

"T-thank you, sir," said September, as she gulped her brew. "Oh, God, this is good!" I loaded the three flight logs and waited for her to begin.

"I was flying on Jekkyl's wing, sir. Wikkit and Hite from BWS Ewok were covering us in their Banshees. We were j-jumped by two Bearcats about an hour after launch. The Banshees got one, b-but we lost Jekkyl and Hite." She gripped her cup hard in both hands to keep them from shaking.

I checked her flight log. September had kept her cool and dragged her unseen attacker across Wikkit's sights. Wikkit's log confirmed the kill.

"Wikkit and I went on. When the jamming ended, we spotted a pirate frigate and two fighters. We stayed at max range and I called for help."

Lt. Nune took over. "Knight and I were having ourselves a nice quiet mission until we got September's call. Turned out we were on the other side of the frigate. When we came in, both pirate fighters went for us. The Banshees from BWS Friggit took 'em out, but not until I was hit bad." He took another gulp of java.

"It was textbook, sir!" exclaimed Lt. Knight, nearly spilling his coffee in his excitement. "September on one side, me on the other! We launched a perfect pattern, no loopholes. They never knew what hit 'em!"

Their flight logs confirmed the kill. That was good news. Hulk and two of his Turkeys had taken out the third and last mothership. Any pirates who had escaped us would die cold, lonely deaths when their gas ran out.

I was proud of my pilots, and I let them see it. "Four-oh job, people. Thanks. Now get some food and hit the sack; you can give Ike a more detailed account later. Lt. Mourne, may I detain you another moment?"

I sat down next to September. "I know how hard it was to wait for help, Lieutenant, but you kept your head and went by the book. I think it's time you were bumped up to section leader."

She just stared at her cup. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly. "Um, sir, when you...when you destroyed Kilrah, did that...make it right about Colonel Devereaux?"

I felt the familiar pain again. "No. I killed a billion cats, and it wasn't enough. I didn't find peace until I made peace with Melek." And Zeke.

She nodded. "That frigate wasn't enough for Moose, either." She sighed and stood up. "Thank you, sir, for all your advice."

I watched her leave the ready room, knowing only too well the conflict within her: life on one path, bitterness and self-destruction on the other. Well, I'd done all I could; I just hoped she'd make a better choice than Spirit had.

*

I was comparing notes with Ike when Catcall burst into the Skunk ready room. "Sir!" he gasped. "Sir! Major Marshall just landed! And he's captured a pirate shuttle!"

Ike and I looked at each other. He rolled his eyes. It figured.

I hurried over to Maniac's service bay. The hero of the hour was leaning casually against his Avenger, recounting his exploits to Catcall and a few fascinated deckhands. His face was lined with fatigue, but his talent for boasting was undiminished.

"...and when Tex wandered off, I just kept searching. When Wormboy and Undies lucked out and nailed the jammer, I spotted this shuttle making a run for it. I gave chase, even though my fuel was critical. A lesser pilot would've turned back when his gas ran SHORT..." He looked pointedly at me. "...but not the Maniac! I fired a shot across her bow and forced her back here. I had about a minute's fuel left, but hey, I thrive on danger!" He flipped his saucepan in the air and caught it neatly by the handle.

Translation: Maniac had succumbed early to the jamming, drifted away in a sitcom stupor, and stumbled across the shuttle when the zone collapsed.

"Hey! Here she comes now!" exclaimed Maniac, pointing. Escorted by two CAP fighters, the shuttle was on final approach.

I joined the crowd gathering around the pirate as it touched down. It was cleverly disguised as a Confed command shuttle. The insignia, the fittings, even the inspection hatch logos were almost perfect. I looked closer. Hmm, they WERE perfect...

With a clatter of equipment, Sgt. McLean and his Marines scrambled down the stairs from the Control Bay in full combat gear. They formed up smartly next to me, weapons at the ready. There was a scatter of applause from thedeck hands in appreciation of the Marines' precision deployment.

McLean looked over at me, smiling with pride. I nodded slightly toward the shuttle's rear exit, which he'd left uncovered. He hastily detailed Privates Awks and Wang. I glanced at Cpl. Vanish next to me, and discreetly took the safety off her weapon. Sheesh.

Maniac ran up to the main hatch and pounded on it. "Hey, open up, you scum-suckers! This is the Maniac!"

I put Cpl. Vanish's safety back on and joined Maniac just as the hatch began opening. Maniac stuck his head through the widening gap. "About time, you bas--Huh?" His jaw dropped and his face went all goofy--well, goofier than usual. Awestruck, all he could say was "Hubba hubba!"

Someone--a woman--was emerging from the shadowy interior. The light fell first on the stylish Confed-blue pumps on her feet; then on shapely, tanned legs reaching all the way up into a blue microskirt; uniform blouse, low-cut and practically bursting with promise; lovely green eyes, blonde hair, and a familiar smile...

"Chastity!"

She giggled. "Hi, Chris-Chris! Oops!" A pencil slipped out of her fingers.

I hastened up the ramp to retrieve it, lest she bend over and reveal what wasn't under her uniform. My reward was a hug and an enthusiastic kiss. "Oh, Chris-Chris," she gushed, "I missed you!"

I fended her off as gently as I could. "Chastity, what are you doing here, honey?"

"She's with me, Colonel!"

I whirled. I knew that voice.

"A better question, Blair, is what are YOU doing here?" The questioner moved into the light from the open hatch.

"Paladin!" I felt as if I'd been stabbed through the heart. My oldest and dearest friend was working with the pirates!

Paladin patted Chastity on her bottom. "Run along, lassie. I want to talk with the Colonel."

Bouncing down the ramp, Chastity was greeted by a roar of cheers and applause. She waved cheerily and blew a few kisses before she was engulfed by the crowd.

Paladin pulled me deeper into the dimly-lit shuttle and sat us down on a couple of cargo containers. Still stunned, I didn't resist.

"Now, laddie," thundered Paladin, "have you taken leave of your senses? What possessed you to defect to the Union?"

I awoke from my trance. "Wait a second, you bastard! I catch you consorting with pirates, and you accuse ME? What possessed YOU to betray all you stood for?" Oh, it was all clear to me now. "What an idiot I am! Covert Ops' paw prints are all over this business, and I overlook their greatest agent! No wonder you made President of the Dissembly in just two years, you snake!"

He tried to interrupt, but I shouted him down. "You rammed that escort edict through, didn't you? Oh, you're so fucking clever! My friends on the Lex blow the whistle on your little scheme, so you play the man of reason, and delay the vote to come out here and stir up more mischief!"

Taken aback by my passion, Paladin just sat there. When he replied, his tone was thoughtful. "I see. Then you've cast me as the criminal mastermind of your little drama? Well, I'll try not to disappoint you!"

He leaned forward and spoke earnestly. "You're right, laddie. This war is indeed being provoked by elements within the Confederation, within Covert Ops."

"So you admit you're in on it?" I asked in surprise. Half of me still didn't want to believe it.

He nodded. "I am indeed 'in on it,' as you put it, except that I lead the faction trying to STOP this war!"

"Factions? In Covert Ops?"

He shook his head at my naivete. "Laddie, we're up to our hindquarters in factions! The SRA, the military, the Dissembly...even the Union is riddled with traitors. Look, two years ago, shortly after the War, I came across evidence of a plot to divide the Border Worlds from the rest of Confed. But my friends and I had to move carefully, because we didn't know who we could trust. I got myself elected to the Dissembly--you're right, my whole political career was rigged--and since then I've tried to keep a lid on the war fever."

"Yeah, right," I said sarcastically. "Like with that escort edict?"

He bristled. "What do you know about politics, farmer? I did everything politically possible to soften that edict! And I squashed even worse bills before they hit the floor!"

Shit, that almost sounded plausible. "So what are you doing out here, meeting with pirates?"

He sighed. "The Dissembly is recessed for one week. I asked Admiral Tolwyn to let me help with his investigation. He had indications of impending trouble in Peleus, and with so few of his own people he could trust, he sent me. He even sent his 'aide' to assist."

I glanced out the hatch at Chastity, who was posing for holopics with crew members. "No, Paladin, it won't wash. You weren't affected by the sitcom zone!"

"Of course we weren't, you dunce! Do you think I trust Tolwyn? My own sources warned of possible sitcom warfare, and furnished the appropriate counter-measures! Perhaps Tolwyn set me up, and perhaps he didn't. Perhaps that little minx out there is his spy! I notice YOU'RE pretty chummy with her! Are you working for Tolwyn? Or worse?"

"WHAT?"

"All right, maybe you really defected out of misplaced idealism. But do you know the harm you've done? Before, I could always point out what a miniscule danger we faced from the Border Worlds. But then the mighty Heart of the Tiger joins them, and suddenly the Union is a credible threat! And then you go and prove it by taking out the only Confed fleet unit that's actually doing some good!"

"Fuck you, old man! Gant was trying to start a war! He and that knife thug! I heard them, dammit! Then there's this hotshot pilot called Theether, the one with the G.E.D.! He's killed--"

Paladin suddenly went pale. "The G.E.D.," he whispered. "God help us."

"What? What?" Dammit, did he know something?

"Genetically Enhanced Development. Covert Ops' greatest mistake, laddie. A misguided attempt to breed the perfect warrior against the Kilrathi. Only they were TOO perfect. Too perfect to have any loyalty to the imperfect race that bred them. It was shut down, but now the conspirators have obviously revived it. My God, how could I have underestimated them so badly?" Paladin buried his head in his hands.

Conspiracies. Factions. Betrayal all around. Mistrust and accusations between me and the man who'd taught me most of what I knew about combat. My mind was in a turmoil.

Paladin sat up and squared his shoulders. "That settles it, laddie. I have to get back with this information. And you'd best give me everything you have,too. Perhaps there's still time--"

"Are you mad? I'm not even sure I won't shoot you here and now!"

My old friend put his hand on my shoulder. "Chris, when we flew wing on the old Tiger's Claw, you trusted me with your life, and I, you. We were as close as father and son. You know me too well to believe I've turned traitor."

I sat there for a long time, thinking furiously. Could Paladin be telling the truth? Was Tolwyn in on the conspiracy, or was he the hero and Paladin the traitor? Were they BOTH traitors? Both heroes? I just didn't have enough evidence either way; in the end, it came down to trust--and Paladin had been my wingman.

I sighed in resignation. "You're not getting our evidence, Paladin. Too many people will die if it gets into the wrong hands." I glanced out at Chastity, who was now signing autographs. "But the two of you can go."

He sighed with relief. "It's all right, Igor," he said to someone behind me.

I spun, grabbing for the pistol I wasn't wearing. A grim-faced man stood in the hatch to the cockpit, lowering a photon pistol. He turned and disappeared.

I looked at Paladin in disgust. "'Father and son?'" He just shrugged.

I composed myself and started down the ramp to collect Chastity. Maniac had found her issue in his Playboy collection, and now she was signing the centerfold.

"Chastity?" I called. "Time to go, hon."

She kissed the centerfold, leaving a prominent lipstick print. Then she stuck a signed holopic in my breast pocket, gave me a quick kiss, and bounced back up the ramp. She was still waving when the hatch closed.

"Hey, Ace," said Maniac. "Who were you talking to in there?"

"Hmm?" I signaled the Control Bay to clear the shuttle. "Oh, it was nobody,Maniac."

Maniac waved at the departing shuttle. "That's nice," he said absently.

*

Fortunately, I had too much work to brood over releasing Paladin. Cargo traffic resumed as soon as the jamming zone disappeared, and we had to provide escorts for the convoys in our area. I was juggling demands for CAP, patrols, search-and-rescue, and escorts from a weary wing with half its birds out of action and a third of its pilots dead, missing, or wounded.

The fighter techs were swamped with repair work. Zelda was already overdue for a rest, but she simply couldn't be spared. As Admiral Willful's fire brigade, we were in great demand on the Union's frontiers. Our fighters would be needed again, and soon.

Eventually I had the organizational problems sorted out well enough for Maniac to handle the details. Though desperately tired myself, I took a patrol mission to spare one of my exhausted fliers, tagging Excell as my wingman. I was pleasantly surprised to find her a most congenial wingie, with a repertoire of ribald stories that matched my own.

When I returned, SoSo was waiting at the bottom of the ladder. "Welcome back, sir. Here are the debriefings from the frigate pilots." She handed me a data cartridge. "Also, the Captain has set up a rendezvous with an outbound cargo transport. They have fighter parts, flight helmets, and medical supplies. Sorry, no spare food."

"Thanks, SoSo. You're a peach." I took off my saucepan and looked at it with regret. Gee, I'd sure miss my trusty cookware...not.

SoSo's voice took on a note of concern. "You should get some rest, sir. You look beat."

"It's OK, I have cabin time in a few--" Boing! Oh man, this was one of my best ideas yet! "Um, SoSo?" I asked casually. "Has Maniac been bothering you lately, by any chance?"

"Are you kidding? That over-sexed gorilla hits on me every chance he gets! And he KNOWS Catscratch and I--"

"How would you like some payback?"

She smiled impishly. "What do I have to do, sir?"

Oh, Maniac, you are going to be SO sorry you ever messed with the Heart of the Kitchen! "OK, now here's my plan..."

*

I had my date with Zelda to prepare for, but I wanted to stop by sick bay first to see my wounded pilots. Thanks to modern medical science, they were already well on the road to recovery, especially now that Forceps had released his reserve of painkillers in anticipation of fresh deliveries.

I went from bed to bed, taking my time. By now I knew most of them well enough to say the right things, usually a joke or two for the vets, encouragement orpraise for the rookies. Primate, of course, got a banana.

Panties was last. I pulled a chair close to her bed and sat down. Her left side was still covered with regen dressings where she'd taken the shrapnel, but she'd regained most of her color, and she was smiling.

"Hi, Tamara," I said.

"Hi, Chris," she answered. "Thank you for bringing me home."

"Thank yourself, young lady. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so damn determined to live. Your courage is an inspiration to us all."

She chuckled. "Tell that to my hand." She held up her right hand. It was still trembling.

I held mine up next to hers. It, too, was still shaking from the strain of two sitcom missions.

Tamara grasped my hand with hers. Together, they were rock-solid.

That was when I knew I'd made the right choice with Paladin. He could still be one of the bad guys, of course, but when the chips were down, you simply had to trust your wingman. I returned the pressure of Tamara's hand, reassured by her touch. Yeah, this I could trust.

I pressed my lips to the back of her hand and placed it gently on her chest."Get well, Tamara. I need you on my wing." And in my life?

*

I felt a lot better after my visit with Panties. Whatever the negative effect sof my defection, I had no regrets about joining these exasperating Border Worlders. For all their faults, they had one overwhelmingly redeeming trait: they were incapable of betrayal. The fact that they were damn near incapable of anything requiring conscious thought was beside the point.

My long-dreaded date with Zelda was imminent, but now I faced it with a new attitude. She was the very embodiment of Border Worlder loyalty, and she deserved my best. First, I spruced myself up, prudently putting on my most presentable underwear. Then I brought most of what remained of my stash into the manual kitchen and prepared the best dinner I could, given the materials at hand. After transferring the feast to a grav sled, I changed into my dress uniform and took the whole production to our assigned cabin, arriving only a few minutes late.

Tactfully, I buzzed the door, praying she wasn't waiting for me in her birthday suit. I needn't have worried. When she called, "Come in, Blairbear," and I entered the cabin, I found her fully dressed--and then some.

My God! Despite her evident fatigue, Zelda had pulled out all the stops for our date. No longer in its usual ponytail, her dark blonde hair fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. Her squeaky-clean face was lightly made up, dimming but not obscuring her freckles; the faintest hint of lavender graced her lips. I counted only one pimple. Her dress uniform was a marked improvement over her usual dirty fatigues. A maddeningly elusive fragrance of lilac was in the air.

I sucked in my breath. Could this vision be the same homely mechanic who haddriven a man to attempt suicide? Why, she looked almost...almost...PLAIN!

Noting Zelda's embarrassed blush and shy smile, I hastened to put her at ease. Playing the part of the efficient maitre d', I sat her down on one of the beds, lowered the sled to eating level, and laid out the meal on top of it. Zelda squealed with delight as each dish was revealed. As the final touch, I lit one of SoSo's candles--it had cost me my last can of potato chips--and set it in the center of the eating surface.

My efforts hadn't been in vain. "Oh, Blairbear," sighed Zelda. "It's just like I dreamed it would be! I'm so happy, I c-could just c-c-cry!" Tear sbegan welling up in her eyes.

"Here, hon!" I said hastily. "Try the cashew chicken." I speared a morsel with my fork and carefully placed it in her mouth. That did the trick. She forgot her tears and chewed away lustily.

For the next few minutes, we gave ourselves over entirely to the pleasure of dining on food we could actually taste. It was so good, in fact, that it took all my willpower to leave Zelda her fair share; I could have eaten the whole shebang twice over.

"Mmmm, Blairbear, this is exquisite," she said between mouthfuls. "But next time, it's my turn, OK? I'm no slouch in the kitchen myself." She reached for another piece of my sushi substitute.

I refilled her glass with sparkling water. I'd brought along my best, the Dom Perrier '57. "I didn't know, Zelda. You know so much about me, but I know nothing about you. Like, where are you from?"

It turned out she was from Hades IV, in the Styx Cluster. It was a farming world, but she'd grown up in the spaceport, where her father was a fighter tech and her mother flew for the Home Defense Force. After her mother was killed in a Kilrathi raid, she'd grown closer to her father, helping him in his work. At fourteen, she'd built a working Hellcat II out of spare parts.

Impatient to leave her backwater home, she'd joined the Navy at the minimum age and was immediately sent to tech school. Having skipped college, she was handicapped by her lack of math, but her extensive practical experience more than made up for it. After a year of distinguished service with Confed, she'd transferred to the Militia in the last days of the War, joining Intrepid just in time to see her home world overrun by the Kilrathi.

Pushing the sled and its empty plates out of the way, I sat down beside her and took her hand. "No, it's OK, Chris," she said. "I miss my father, but not that hick planet. Looking like I do, can't you imagine what a living hell my childhood was?"

I could. I'd grown up on a "civilized" world, but in school the misfits had still been unmercifully ostracized.

She took a deep breath, as if afraid to take the next step. "You know what go tme through those awful years?" I shook my head. "You did," she said.

"Me? But I didn't even know--"

"I knew you. From the news. Confed's newest and brightest star—handsome, daring, popular--everything I'd never be. In school, when I was teased, or ignored--which was worse--I'd think of you, and it was all right. Even after your bogus court-martial, whenever I was discouraged, I'd remind myself that Chris Blair hadn't given up, and neither would I."

Jesus. Ensign Watt's crush was nothing next to this! "Um, Zelda, if you only knew how close I came to resigning... In fact, if it hadn't been for a trans from some anonymous hero-worshipping kid--" Ohmygod!

Zelda's eyes had a faraway look. "'Dear Captain Blair: That awful Admiral Tolwyn says you're a coward, but I know he's wrong. Soon everyone else will know, too. Until then, my Dad always says to take pride in each day's work, and the future will take care of itself.'"

She put her hand on my cheek. "I closed with, 'I believe in you.' I was ten years old."

It took me a moment to find my voice. "Uh, that was you?"

She moved her hand to my lips. "Instead of resigning, you started writing your revolutionary papers on fighter tactics. I downloaded all twenty-one from the GGG, and I read each one a dozen times. Confed wouldn't touch them,of course, but then you put your theories into practice on the Concordia, and now they're standard doctrine.

"I followed your every move, Chris Blair. When you and Colonel Devereaux... Well, my heart nearly broke, but I was happy for you. And when you lost her, my heart really did break...for you. I never dared hope that you and I... until you flew out of my dreams and landed on Intrepid. Then I knew we were meant to be."

I was speechless. All this time our lives had been linked, and I hadn't realized. Suddenly I felt a kinship unlike any I'd ever known before.

"Zelda, I-I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything, my wonderful Christopher. Just hold me."

Gladly. I hugged her fiercely, my emotions raging inside me. Could it be true? Was she the one I'd been search--

"Ow! Easy, Honeyblair, I'm stiff all over. No, don't let go--"

I released her instantly, cursing myself. "I'm so sorry, hon. All thoserepairs without a break; your muscles must be sore as hell. Here, lie down."

I removed her uniform jacket and blouse, and slipped off her shoes and pants. Technically, she'd been out of uniform already, because her bra and panties were decidedly non-reg. Not that she really needed a bra, of course.

"Mmm, don't stop there, snookums," she said dreamily.

"Patience, pet." I left her underwear on and started kneading her shoulders.

"Ohhhh. Oh, Blairbear, that's wonderful! Please, don't stop."

I worked my way down her back, massaging her tight muscles with my fingers and using my thumbs on the double muscle band along her spine. "You know, Zelda, I wish I'd known someone was actually reading those papers." I started in on her feet, working my way gradually up her legs. "I would have spiced them up a little." I finished with a gentle butt-rub, the kind Angel had always liked, though of course Angel had been much less bony. "I guess that explains how you know my flying so well, doesn't it?" Zelda seemed to like it, too; she was totally limp.

"Doesn't it, Zelda?" No answer. "Zelda? Hon?" I looked closer. The poor exhausted kid was fast asleep.

Leaving her underwear on--I still wasn't prepared to see her naked, despite the change in our relationship--I tucked her under the covers and kissed her softly on the cheek. Then I undressed and fell gratefully into the other bunk. For along time I watched over my companion, pondering mightily upon the mysteries of life.

*

I awoke to my alarm, which I had set an hour early. After a quick shower, I scribbled a note for Zelda and ran off to intercept Louise and Churlokk, the next occupants of our cabin. It cost me two cabin sessions and the rest of my stash, but they agreed to give up their time so Zelda could sleep undisturbed. Then I hustled back up to the cabin and reprogrammed the cleaning droids before they broke in on her.

After last night's sumptuous repast, the very thought of galley food turned my stomach, so I changed out of my dress uniform and headed straight to CIC. The war had been kind enough to wait while Zelda's surprising role in my career was revealed, but now it was time to get back to work.

*

I walked into CIC and stopped short. Captain Eisen, his back to me, was chewing out Lt. Cmdr. Queue.

"--and did it ever occur to you, Commander, that your CAPTAIN might like to see the debriefing reports?"

"Uh, sir, I guess I expected Colonel Blair to inform you."

Oh, thanks a lot, Ike! I tried to tiptoe unnoticed out of CIC...

"BLAIR! Get your ass back here!"

Oops. I jumped to attention and saluted. "Sir!"

Eisen turned on Queue. "You! Get out of my sight!" He emphasized the order with a swat from his swagger stick.

"Now, Colonel, where the hell have YOU been? And where are those debriefing reports?"

"Cabin time, SIR!" I barked my response as if on parade. "Reports showed no enemy activity, so the Colonel chose not to bother his Captain, SIR!"

Eisen advanced on me, his jaw set in anger. He thumped me on the head several times with his swagger stick. "HELLO! Am I suddenly invisible? Is that why nobody tells me ANYTHING around here?"

I spoke soothingly. "Sir, no one is trying to hide--"

"Like that pirate shuttle you sent on its merry way, COLONEL?"

Uh-oh. "Uh, but sir, it was a trivial matter, just, er, a USO troupe that got lost in space, yeah, that's it! Look, I even got you an autograph!" I handed him Chastity's holopic.

Suddenly mellow, Eisen turned the pic from side to side, to get the full 3-D view. "Miss April, 2669? Oh, that was a VERY good month... Er, ahem!" He stuck the pic in his pocket. "Thank you, Colonel, but you should still--"

SoSo materialized behind the Captain. "Sir!"

"Yikes!" He must have jumped half a meter. "Jesus, Lieutenant! You nearly gave me a heart--"

"Ineedyoursignatureforthiscargotransfersir!"

"Oh, OK. When do we meet the transp--"

"Twohoursagosirwhileyouslept!"

"What? Well, notify Vice-Admiral--"

"--Willfulhasbeennotifiedsir! Heleftthismessageforyou!" She activated the display.

This time the Vice-Admiral was sitting in a frothing hot tub, possibly in his cabin aboard his flagship. He took the cigar out of his mouth and coughed a couple of times before beginning.

"Billy! Excellent work there in Peleus! Congrats to Tiger Lily and his pilots! I know you've earned--"

A woman stuck her head out of the water in front of the Admiral, gasping for air. After taking several deep breaths, she submerged again.

Willful sighed and continued. "I know you've earned a rest, Billy, but I have a full-scale war on my hands in Circe. I'll have the data downloaded to you. Get your butts to Circe ASAP!" The Vice-Admiral took a small plastic tube from the edge of the tub and, breaking it under his nose, inhaled deeply. "Willfulou-OU-OUT! Oh God, whattarush!" The display went blank.

Eisen shook his head. "I never saw a man age so fast, even in combat. Er, Colonel, I can brief you as soon as I see--"

SoSo handed me a data cartridge and put a diagram of the Circe system on the main display. "Circe IV has broken away from the Union, Colonel, and is now trying to capture Circe V. They wouldn't have a prayer, except that Confed is shipping them huge amounts of naval and ground equipment. The Admiral needs his ships to counter the rebel fleet in the asteroid belt, which leaves no support for his ground troops. That will be our--"

Eisen tapped her shoulder. "Ahem, thank you, Lieutenant, I'll take it from--"

I ignored him. "What's our opposition, SoSo?"

She frowned. "It appears to be one Victory class carrier and two frigates. Three or four Hellcat squadrons. Transports and landers, five tank brigades,ten Circe IV Militia infantry brigades. Circe V is outnumbered about three to one on the ground. They have one squadron of atmospheric fighters and one of Vindicators."

Shit. "OK, SoSo, get this info to my squadron leaders."

"Yes, sir." She hurried out the door.

"Dismissed, Lieutenant!" said Eisen to her back. Then he called to the helmsman, "Lt. Pilotte, set course for--"

"--Circe System, already on our way, sir!"

"Oh. Uh, carry on." Eisen turned to me. "Colonel, better--"

"I'd better alert the Marines, sir!" I sketched a hasty salute and took off.

*

I reclaimed my parrot from Barr and went looking for the Marines. I found them in an empty service bay, dressed in full combat gear. They were setting up an anti-tank laser mount. Pvt. Damppuss was drawing a surprisingly realistic tank outline on the far bulkhead, the one that divided the bay from the midships missile store. Pvts. Wang and West were trying to assemble the laser with the assistance of Pvt. Awks, who was consulting the user manual. Cpl. Vanish stood nearby, applying camouflage polish to her nails.

I walked up to Awks. "Is Sgt. McLean around, Private?"

He just scowled and jerked his head toward the head.

Noting the cause of his frustration, I took the manual from him and returned it right side up. That probably also explained why Pvt. Wang was having such a hard time sighting the weapon. After making sure no power pack was loaded, I spun it around until the other end was toward the target. He looked in the sight again, and gave me a thumbs up.

I spotted Sgt. McLean returning from the head, nose buried in another manual."Ah, Colonel!" he said. "I've been studying. You know, according to this,just about everything we do on the show is wrong!"

He showed me the title: INFANTRY TACTICS FOR DUMMIES

"You don't say!" I replied. "Well, it's a good thing you're boning up. In about twelve hours we're sending you to the Circe V spaceport. You should be safe enough in garrison, and you'll free up some real troops for duty at the front."

He gave me a Hollyworld salute. "We'll be ready, sir!"

"Good. Oh, and Sergeant? I think Private Damppuss should draw her tank target on this bulkhead over here, the one between this bay and the head."

He scratched his head. "Why, sir?"

Why me, God? "Er, the light's better over here."

"Damn, you're right! Thank you, sir." He went off to inform Pvt. Damppuss.

I watched Wang load a power pack into the anti-tank weapon while West knelt in front and squinted down the projector guide. "What do you think, bird?" I asked, rubbing my parrot's tummy feathers.

"Rawwwk! Dead meat!"

*

We jumped to Circe and headed for the fifth planet at full speed. At maximum Banshee range, we prepared to launch.

Zelda was waiting for me at my bird, smiling brightly. She looked refreshed and perky, almost sparkling. Her hug, however, was gentle and warm. "Thank you, Blairbear," she whispered in my ear. "For everything."

"Um, Zelda, I'll admit that things are...different between us now. But you know I can't promise..."

"I know, dear. Take your time." She released me and reached into the duffle bag at her feet. "Meanwhile, I want you to have this."

I whistled in appreciation. It was just another new flight helmet like the one I was carrying, except that this one bore my name and a boxing tiger emblem like the one Maniac had made. The artwork, however, put Maniac's to shame.

It fit like a glove. "Chief," I said in amazement, "you are just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Play your cards right, flyboy," she replied, "and you'll have a lifetime of surprises."

*

Murphy's First Law of Combat: If the enemy is in range, so are you.

Well aware of the maxim, Captain Eisen refused to close with the enemy task force. Since the rebel captain had also read his Murphy, the two fighter wings only made contact in the vicinity of the planet itself.

Our top priority was to reopen the supply line to Circe V. Given the insatiable material demands of modern ground warfare, the Unionists couldn't last much longer with their own supplies cut off and the enemy resupplying at will. On our first mission, I took along all of Wombat Squadron to escort a transport convoy carrying ammo and reinforcements. Hulk brought four Vindicators—the Union's only atmosphere-capable birds--and our Marines came along in a shuttle.

We beat off one Hellcat attack on the way, and another in orbit as the ships were transloading cargo. Meanwhile, Hulk's Turkeys tore into a major enemy ground offensive and helped stop it cold, losing one ship. When we left, however, the rebels reclaimed fighter superiority and brought in their own convoy. Reinforcements and fighter support revived the stalled attack.

For two days, a seesaw battle raged on the ground and in the skies. As our battle-wise Captain had foreseen, we gradually gained the upper hand. The Banshee's superiority and our own pilots' flying and taunting skills were major factors, but more important, the Union owned the only spaceport. We could refuel, rearm, and repair our birds close to the battle; the rebels' fighters had to come from a distant carrier. As the rebels' Hellcat support diminished, the Union defense stiffened and brought the ground offensives to a halt.

*

I completed the Vindicator's pre-flight, cursing my trembling hands. After two days of harrowing, round-the-clock missions, I was as tired as the rest of my pilots. The situation was critical, however, so somebody had to go. With most of Turkey Squadron dead, wounded, or down with the shakes, Mrs. Blair's fair-haired boy was elected.

Zelda kissed the tiger emblem on my helmet--I had convinced her it was luckier than kissing me directly--and disappeared down the ladder. I shut the canopy and waved at Hulk. The big lug had flown back-to-back missions for two solid days, yet here he was again, flying my wing as fresh as a daisy.

I had last flown a Vindicator en route to Circe--my first and only solo. I crossed my fingers and hit the thrusters.

*

The rebels had forced a convoy through our patrols--at a terrible cost--and now they had enough supplies for one last, desperate effort. They massed their reserves on one front and scored a breakthrough. Tanks were approaching the Union spaceport. If the rebels could capture it, or even damage it severely, they could reverse the tide of battle.

As we approached the planet, Hulk picked up a contact.

"Hulk sight enemy, Earthworm!"

Two rebel Hellcats had somehow evaded our Bashees. Shit! We had no time for dogfighting. We had to take these guys fast.

"Hulk, comm silence!" I switched to the general channel. "Hey, Gomers! Knock knock!"

A woman's face appeared on my comm. "Oh no, Union scum! This tahm ah do the tauntin'!"

I was intrigued. What sort of secret taunt had the goobers on Circe V come up with? "Oh. OK, let's hear it...er, rebel scum."

There was a rustling on the comm as my opponent held up a sheet of paper. "Er, damn, ah cain't make this out."

"Are you holding it right side up?" I suggested helpfully.

More rustling. "Er, ah knowed thet! Uh, ahem. Knock knock."

Hmm. Could it be one I hadn't heard? "Who's there?"

"Who."

Oh, shit. Not this one. "Who who?"

She squinted at the paper. "Hey, yew sound lahk a...a owl! Ha. Ha. Ha."

Pretty lame. However, she'd gone to so much trouble, I hated to disappoint her. "Bwahahahaha! Oh, that's a good one! Wohohohoho!" I started weaving erratically, as if helpless with laughter.

As I shot past her, the rebel pulled hard to get on my tail. Unfortunately, she had to lose sight of me for just a second, and that's when I chopped the throttle. She came out of her turn on my tail, all right, but she shot right by me.

"What the-- Where are yew, scum?"

I hit burner. No fucking around with leech cannon, I needed to finish this quick. "Right here, Daisy Mae!" Screech! Screech! Screech! YES! Tachyon guns at last! Screech! Screech! Kaboom! Bye, Daisy Mae.

Kaboom! Hulk broke comm silence. "Yes! Look at fighter burn! Huh-huh! Huh-huh!"

"Good work, Hulk. Form on my wing."

*

The ground controller vectored us south of the port, where a new formation of rebel tanks had just appeared. With reserves already committed elsewhere, the port's defenders had precious little to meet them.

The leading tanks were nearly in range of the outer installations! Heedless of skin temperature, Hulk and I streaked in after them. According to the controller, atmospheric fighters had already taken out one missile tank, at the cost of one aircraft.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Shit, another missile tank! Decoys! Lock IR! Launch! Change targets! Launch! Jink away from missile! Lock IR! Launch!

I locked and fired all my IRs on the first pass and then cleared the range for Hulk. He swooped down like a hawk, leveling out at the last second to walk his stormfire bursts into tank after tank. Goddamn, that big goof was a veritable Vindicator virtuoso!

The first wave was burning now, but more were advancing behind them. Oh shit, a tank was advancing on the left flank! No, it stopped! Broken down? Yikes! Hellcats!

"Hulk! Two Hellcats above! Break and attack!" Damn, down here in the soup we had no Banshee cover!

"These guys history! Huh-huh! Huh-huh!" Hulk streaked into the stratosphere, firing two IR missiles.

I started up after him, but then the second tank wave opened fire on the port. Cursing, I armed my stormfires and tried to duplicate Hulk's strafing tactics. In atmosphere, the outer layers of the stormfire's hypersonic particles vaporized, reducing the gun's range and accuracy. The dense cores still packed one hell of a kinetic energy punch, however, quickly defeating tank shields and perforating durasteel armor as if it were tissue.

Ratatatatat!

They were also pretty effective at plowing up the landscape, as I discovered on my first pass. Shit! Only nailed one tank! Laser blasts from the third wave flew all around me, but only a few hit. Determined to do better this time, yet acutely aware of the closing Hellcats, I swooped down for another run. The lead tank was stopped and firing at the port, so I pointed my bird directly at it. Steady...get real close...

Whoopwhoopwhoop! Fuck! Missile on my tail! Decoy! Pull up! KABOOM! Am I hit? No, it...it took out my tank instead! Woohoo! What incredible luck!

"Hey! How Earthworm do that?"

Good question, Hulk! A better question is how to kill these tanks with a Hellcat on my--Wait a sec!

I punched the comm. "Hey, thanks, Goober! Let's go kill another one of your tanks!" Heedless of the threat to my tail, I dove after another tank.

"Oh no yew don't, Union slahm! Yew ain't suckin' me in agin! Ah gots tew much smarts!" He followed me in, but he didn't fire a shot.

Heehee! What a dipstick! The odds against duplicating the accident were astronomical, but once bitten, twice shy, I guess. I couldn't resist rubbing it in.

I waggled my tail invitingly. "Aw, come on, Goober! Shoot me! Please! "Wahahaha! Jeez, I hadn't had so much fun in ages! Ratatatatat! I whacked a tank and pulled up for another pass.

The rebel pilot fired his blasters at me on the way up, but I was jinking like a madman and he was too pissed to aim straight. Down I went again.

"Shoot me, you fucking chickenshit! Heeheehee! Kill me, motherfucker! Take me up the tail like you take yo' mama!" Heeheehee! I'm laughing so hard I can hardly fly! OK, one tank barbecue coming up! Rata--

Whoopwhoopwhoop! Shit, he fired after all! No! Two more Hellcats ahead! Decoy! Pull up, Blair! Miss me, miss me, missmemissmemissme--Hah! Missed! But now I have three on my--no, Hulk's on the dipstick, chasing him off, and now the new guys are on Hulk!

Shit! We'd lost! No way to stop the tanks with the air full of Hellcats! In atmosphere, the Hellcat was more maneuverable than the Vindicator. We'd be lucky to protect ourselves, let alone the spaceport.

I switched to tachyons, which were immune to atmospheric effects, and swung onto the Hellcats' tails. Screech screech screech! Oh God, how I had missed my tachyon guns! Screech screech screech! Maneuverability wouldn't matter now, not with my target's control surfaces shredded. He tried a hard turn and smacked into the ground.

Now, two on two, we had a chance. In less than a minute, the two Hellcats were burning for space, one trailing smoke.

I took a moment to vector a Banshee patrol onto them, then turned my attention to the ground again. The port must be a burning shambles by now, but perhaps we could salvage--

What the hell? The port installations were only lightly damaged. The enemy tanks were doing all the burning! The few survivors were firing wildly, some at each other, some at nothing. One crew must have gone insane; they were driving their tank at breakneck speed between the second and third waves, flying over hillocks and firing in all directions. Hey, it was the tank I'd thought was broken down! As I watched, a third wave tank fired at it, but missed and hit one in the second wave. Another second wave tank retaliated.

Hulk was fascinated. He'd taken an IR, but he was still game. "Hulk take out mad tank!" he called. "Fun target!" He swooped out of the sky.

"Heh heh. OK, big guy--No! Break off, Hulk! It's our guys! Break off! "Whew! Just in time. That wild machine could only be crewed by our idiot Hollyworld Marines!

I watched as it went over a particularly large bump, became airborne, and plowed right into a rebel tank, totaling both. Yeah, it was them all right! As both crews baled out of their burning hulks, Hulk and I zoomed in to cover them until the surviving tanks retreated.

The attack on the spaceport had been foiled. The rebels were in full retreat. Hulk's Vindicator could make it back to the Intrepid OK, so I decided to spare the port's overtaxed facilities. I sent for a shuttle to bring our Marines back, then we stood our ships on their tails and hit our throttles.

Leaving the atmosphere, I felt like a snorkeler surfacing after a long dive. I took deep breaths of air and marveled at the clarity of the stars. Damn, I hated planet missions!

*

SoSo appeared promptly on the comm when I called for clearance. She was subdued, even somber.

"Is it finally over, Earthworm?" she asked.

Poor kid. This was just like the end of the Kilrathi War, when she had watched her people dropping like flies.

"The worst is over, Velina, but there's still plenty of mopping up ahead. I'm sorry."

She sighed. "Don't be sorry, sir. You helped put an end to it. Um, you have clearance."

*

Zelda met me at the bottom of the ladder. She took my helmet and fingered the tiger emblem. "Did it bring you luck, Chris?"

I thought of that IR that missed me by a hair's breadth and nailed the tank. "Zelda, you wouldn't believe how much--"

"Colonel!"

It was Captain Eisen. He walked up to us, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Colonel, did you just fly a mission?"

"Er, yes sir. Ground support. Looks like the rebels are re--"

He threw up his hands. "I knew it! I KNEW it!" He turned and stalked away, muttering, "Nobody tells me ANYTHING around here! Nobody!"

End of Chapter 21

Previews from Chapter 22:

"OK, that does it! Let's settle this man to man, groundhog! Right here! Right now!"

"Thanks to your litle code-breaker there—Hi, honey!--we know Confed is sending a weapons convoy through the Speradon System."

"Chris, we may not have much time left. We'd be fools to waste it."

"Hey, Gomer! You seen the latest Playboy yet?"

Chapter 22

"Colonel? Wake up, sir. They're back."

Hmm? Oh, it was Barr. When I had sacked out in Zelda's workshop, I'd left instructions to wake me when the Marines returned. Call it a hunch, but I had a feeling I'd better see them before Ike did.

I yawned. "Thanks, Fern. Here, why don't you take my mat?" Several techs, including Zelda, were scattered on mats around the workshop. Our latest recon reports showed the rebel task force pulling back toward Circe IV; this was a good time to grab some Z's before we engaged again.

The Marines were just coming down the shuttle ramp when I left the workshop. They looked pretty banged up--not surprising, considering that they'd totaled two tanks. Awks was limping, Wang wore a regen cast, and West was missing a couple of teeth. Cpl. Vanish had broken a nail. Pvt. Damppuss was pretty shaky, able to walk only with West's assistance.

Sgt. McLean was last. I intercepted him at the top of the ramp and sat him down inside the shuttle. He had no obvious injuries, but I noticed he was favoring his left arm.

"First of all, Sergeant," I began, "congratulations on your mission. I think it's pretty clear you saved the spaceport from capture. So how did you pull it off?"

"Er, fire and maneuver. Strategic deployment. Judicious use of the element of surpr--"

"No, no, I mean really."

"Oh." He sighed wearily. "When HQ heard that the rebels were advancing on the spaceport, our team was sent to recon the south approaches. But we, er, got lost. Heh heh. After driving around for a couple of hours, we finally spotted the base about four klicks away, but then Pvt. Damppuss drove our vehicle into a ditch. We had to get out and walk."

McLean winced as he shifted his left arm to a more comfortable position. "Well, before we knew it, we had rebel tanks all around us. We tried staying in cover, but then some idiot flyboy came zooming over, tearing up the whole landscape with his stupid particle guns! Nearly killed us!"

Oops. "Er, must have been a rookie from Circe V," I lied. "Heh heh. So, you were flushed into the open..."

"Yes, sir. It looked like curtains for us until Cpl. Vanish got an idea. She decoyed the crew out of the nearest tank and the rest of us ambushed--"

"Whoa, wait a sec, McLean! Decoyed? What could possibly lure a crew out of a nice heavily armored tank in the middle of a battle?"

"She, er, took off all her--"

"Never mind. Uh, so you put the crew on ice and took over the tank..."

"Right. West and Wang tried to figure out the main laser while I took over the commander's position. Awks was busy with the manuals, Vanish was still putting on her--"

"Don't tell me that munchkin Damppuss was driving!"

"Er, yes, sir. Flyers, shuttles, trucks--she always drives. Why?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "Sergeant, tanks have come a long way in the last few hundred years, but they're still a bitch to drive. My baby sister's a Marine, and she says they always pick their drivers from the biggest, hairiest recruits."

He pondered that one for a moment. "You know, I THOUGHT her driving was a bit reckless. With all the bouncing around, we couldn't hit a damn thing. On the other hand, even when they figured out we were Union, the rebels couldn't hit us, either. They wound up shooting each other. Then that other tank came out of nowhere and smashed into us--"

I patted him on the shoulder. "That will be sufficient, Sergeant. Now go get some medical attention and some rest. You've earned it." I walked him down the ramp, then watched him trudge wearily after his team. Our ersatz Marines were complete fuckups, but they had saved the day twice in a row. If Vice-Admiral Willful offered us some real Marines tomorrow, I'd probably turn him down.

*

Though disappointed to get the account second-hand from me, Lt. Cmdr. Queue was more than pleased with my version of the Marines' ground action. It was fortunate that I had the background to recite the most absurd dialogue with a straight face.

"You see, sir?" he said, practically jumping up and down with excitement. "Training! Good training will triumph every time! I'm recommending our team for a unit citation. We're damn lucky to have them!"

"Uh, yeah, Ike," I replied. "Maybe the Admiral can find us some more like them." Hollyworld must be crawling with unemployed actors.

*

I headed for the galley, hungry enough at long last to risk the food again. Having used up my entire stash in one way or another, and having squandered my next two cabin periods, I was now a pauper in the ship's barter economy. I'd better get used to ship's food.

As luck would have it, I ran into Maniac just outside the galley. He was in his usual good humor.

"Hey, Ace!" he said, blocking my way with a hand on my chest. "When are your prima donna techs gonna get around to Skunk Squadron? I'm tired of doin' my own maintenance!"

I sighed with exasperation. "Hello, Maniac? Anybody home? In case you haven't noticed, the techs have been working their asses off on our Banshees and Vindicators so we could save Circe V!" I took in his dirty uniform, filthy hands, and grease-streaked face. "And what are you doing coming into the galley like that? Go change your uniform and wash up, Major!"

He sprang to attention and threw me a mocking salute. "Aye aye, Mommy! Gee, I thought farmers liked dirt! I bet you never make your little grease monkey wash up before ya do her! Ha ha ha!"

Flatworm. I struggled to control my temper. Anger never worked on Maniac anyway. "Look, Maniac, we're bound to run into that rebel carrier again. With Turkey Squadron just about wasted, your Avengers are the only striking force we have left. So be patient, OK?"

He brightened. "Well why didn't you say so, Ace? I'll be back in a flash! "Maniac took off at the run.

I shook my head. I knew a dozen ways to sabotage his fighter without anything showing up on his instruments. Maybe on his next patrol...Naah, we couldn't spare an Avenger. Shit.

I went into the galley and picked up a tray. Now, was there anything I hadn't tried yet? Dammit, there had to be SOMETHING edible in that damn dispens--

My search was interrupted when Tex and Blade ran up to me. "Colonel! Colonel, is it true?"

"Is what true, Tex?"

"About Corporal Vanish!" exclaimed Blade.

I was instantly on guard. Had they discovered her true identity? An actress so striking must have made at least a few magazine covers. "Er, what about Corporal Vanish, George?" I asked warily.

"I heard she fucked a whole enemy squad to death, sir! It's all over the ship!"

Huh? What kind of stories had those damn Marines been spreading?

"Er, no, George, she just helped capture a rebel t--"

"I heard it was a platoon, Blade!" interrupted Tex.

"My God! A whole platoon? Wow..." George just stood there, imagining the scene.

"Yeah," added Tex, lost in his own thoughts. "What a way to go." He sighed.

Blade suddenly dropped to his knees. "Earthworm, you gotta trade lottery chits with me! I'll give you my whole stash! Please? Pretty please?"

I was tempted, but he'd probably kill me when he found out. "Blade, I've already traded away my next two cabin shifts. Sorry."

Lt. Tennant walked by, headed for the recycler with her leftovers. She stopped and tapped Blade on the shoulder. "If you boys want to make a date with that Marine Corporal, you'd better hurry. Last I looked, the line was already out the hatch."

Tex and Blade glanced at each other, then made a mad dash for the exit. They nearly collided with Maniac, who was just coming in.

Maniac sauntered over toward me. He was clean and fresh-scrubbed, and he wore a fresh uniform. He'd also changed moods, no doubt anticipating a stellar role when we caught up with the rebel carrier.

"Hey, Ace! Where were they going in such a hurry?" He jerked a thumb back at the hatch.

Oh, shit. The big lummox had forgotten to zip up his fly! "Uh, they, uh, have a date, Maniac."

He picked up a tray and began making his selections, blissfully unaware of his omission. "Yeah? Gee, I always figured those two for hetero. Oh well." He began singing to himself. "...and then one day he was shootin' at some food, and up from the ground come a bubblin' crude..."

Damn, now that he was in a good mood, I didn't want to spoil it by embarrassing him in front of the galley crowd. Unobtrusively, I moved next to Maniac. Out of the side of my mouth I muttered, "Major, the price of zippers is eternal vigilance." I met his eyes and looked significantly down at his uniform.

"Huh? Oh, shit. Thanks, Ace." He set down his tray, reached for his zipper, and turned his back to me. That brought him face to face with Panties, who had just come into the galley.

Surprised, Panties stared at Maniac.

Maniac stared back.

Panties looked down at Maniac's hands, which had frozen on his open zipper.

Maniac followed her gaze downward.

Panties looked up again with anger blazing in her eyes.

Maniac looked at her with panic glazing his eyes.

SLAP!

Maniac staggered against the food dispenser and fell to the deck. Sitting up against the food dispenser, he dazedly raised a hand to his burning cheek.

Panties drew back her foot, obviously aiming for a vital area. I hastily got between her and Maniac.

For a moment, I thought she was going to kick me. Instead, she poked her finger into my chest, hard. "Storage hold three, Colonel! Five minutes!" Then she stormed out of the galley.

*

I helped Maniac to sick bay and handed him over to Forceps ("Who hit him this time, kid?") Then I hastened down to the storage hold. I didn't think it would be wise to keep Panties waiting.

The hold was deserted, except for Panties. She was sitting on her bunk, cleaning a photon pistol. I stood, waiting for her to acknowledge my presence, while she reassembled the weapon. When she spoke, her voice was deceptively calm.

"Just the man I wanted to see."

Uh-oh. I'd known too many fiery women to be fooled by her manner. Warning sirens went off in my head. "Uh, what's on your mind, Panties?"

She took a cloth and carefully wiped the pistol's exposed surfaces. "Your friend, the one with the overactive glands. He seems to have a problem understanding the words 'no,' 'not interested,' and 'GET YOUR HAIRY PAWS OFF MYASS!'"

I jumped at her sudden vehemence. Careful, Blair, she's on a hair trigger. "Uh, Panties, just now? He wasn't actually flashing--

She ignored me. "Today was just the last straw. Ever since that big ape came aboard, he's been hitting on me, or boasting about us together, or..." She slammed a power cell into the pistol grip and smiled wickedly.

Yikes. "Uh, whoa, Panties! I, er, made up the boasting bit. Myself. Alone."

Panties looked up sharply at me. "What?"

I backed away slightly. "Uh, yeah, to keep up, you know, your spirits on that last sitcom mission." Throw yourself on her mercy, Blair. "Uh, I'm sorry."

"Well I'll be damned! And just now?"

"Er, an accident. The kind only Maniac has, but still an accident."

She chuckled. "I believe you." With a sigh, she unloaded her weapon. "OK, he gets off this time." She put the pistol away and bent down to take off her boots. "It's just that I seem to attract his type wherever I go. I ran away from home when I was just a kid--fell in with some privateers. They taught me to fly, but they also taught me to watch out for hotshot flyboys like Major Marshall." She looked right at me. "And you."

Oops. "Uh, Tamara, if I've given you reason..."

She shook her head. "Just the opposite." Barefoot, she stood up and moved very, very close to me. "You know, Chris," she said invitingly, "I never thanked you properly for bringing me back from that sitcom sortie. In fact, I was in the galley to invite you to my bunk..." She began playing with the front zipper of my coveralls.

My heart started pounding. "Uh, Tamara, you know how, uh, Zelda feels..."

"I know you want to, Chris. I couldn't have misread you that badly. Did you and Zelda make any...promises?" She took her hand away from my zipper and reached for her own.

My heart went into hyperdrive. I felt myself begin to sweat. "N-n-no, we're still unzipped--er, uncommitted! B-but I wouldn't feel right..."

Panties unzipped her fatigues and stepped out of them, keeping her eyes fixed on mine. She stood in front of me wearing only her GI bra and panties. "Well, if you change your mind, Chris..." She turned away and walked slowly toward her bunk, reaching behind her to undo the bra. "...you know where to find me," she said over her shoulder.

Holding her bra in place with one hand, Panties lay down on the bed and pulled up the covers. After a some wriggling around, she pulled her bra and panties out from under the covers and held them out to me. "Be a dear, Chris, and put these in my footlocker, please?"

Oh. My. God. About face, Blair. Now walk. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right... I didn't stop until I was on the other side of the hatch. Then I slumped against the bulkhead, too weak to stand unaided. My mind a blank, I waited for my pulse to return to normal.

Finally I managed to calm down physically, but that was small comfort; mentally I was still a basket case. I'd done it again! I was now emotionally involved with two of my shipmates. Only this time it was worse, because I was still head-over-heels for Robin and Rachel. Judas Priest, what was wrong with me?

I looked both ways along the companionway...good, nobody around. I faced the bulkhead and slowly, rythmically, began banging my head against it.

*

I stopped by the Control Bay to check our patrol reports. After their defeat in the asteroid belt, the rebel ships were pulling back to Circe IV in disarray, pursued by Vice-Admiral Willful's fleet. Presumably the Victory class carrier we'd fought at Circe V would be doing the same, so we were concentrating our searches in that direction. With most of my Vindicators out of action, and my Banshee pilots still recovering from the Circe V campaign, I had assigned our escort frigates' fighters to the search. Skunk Squadron's Avengers were in reserve, ready to deliver the main blow when the carrier was found.

So far no luck, but we were bound to spot her sooner or later. Satisfied with the progress of the search, I headed back to the galley. Thanks to that idiot Maniac, I still hadn't eaten. Besides, I had a lot of thinking to do.

*

To my surprise, Maniac was also back in the galley. The right side of his face was slightly red and swollen, but otherwise he showed no ill effects from his confrontation with Panties. He was sitting with Sgt. McLean, and the two of them were bantering cheerfully. I got my "food" and joined them.

"Hey there, Colonel," greeted Sgt. McLean. "Major Marshall and I were just swapping combat yarns. Say, that's a nasty bump there on your forehead."

"Uh, yeah. I, er, forgot to duck through a hatch. Heh heh."

"You should get a stuntman for that sort of thing," suggested McLean seriously.

Maniac stared at him for second, then burst out laughing. "Haha ha! Stuntman! Oh, you kill me, Fry! Heehee! So anyway, you were telling me how you guys captured that tank..."

McLean looked uneasily at me before continuing. "Uh, yeah. Well, a couple of my people pretended they wanted to surrender. The tank crew got out to take 'em prisoner, and the rest of us ambushed 'em."

"Jeez, what a bunch of morons! Only Border Worlders could fall for such a lame trick, right, Ace?"

"Uh, Maniac--"

McLean was insulted. "Wait a second, Major! Are you saying we couldn't put on a convincing act?"

"Hey, no offense, pal, but everybody knows Marines can't act. Acting takes brains, not muscles! Haha ha!"

"Oh yeah? For ten years I've--" I shot McLean a warning look. "Er, I have plenty of experience! Besides, what does a vacuum-headed space jock know about acting?"

Now Maniac was insulted. "Hey, doughboy! High school drama club! Academy theater group! Tiger's Claw Shakespeare company! Concordia--"

McLean snorted. "Kid stuff! Amateurs! Marines play in the big leagues!"

Uh-oh, this was getting out of hand. Heads were turning at all the nearby tables. "Hey, guys, no need to--"

Maniac jumped to his feet. "OK, that does it! Let's settle this man to man, groundhog! Right here! Right now!"

McLean was also on his feet. "You're on, flyboy! Colonel, will you referee?"

I looked uneasily at the gathering crowd. Neither one would back down now, not in front of so many witnesses. I sighed in frustration. "OK, OK! Maniac, assume the position."

Maniac took up a picture-perfect boxing stance. I set myself up in front of him, carefully measuring the distance with an extended arm. "Ready, Maniac?"

"Just a sec, Ace. I want to show my good side...OK. Go."

I drew back my fist and threw a devastating punch right at his mouth. Though I was tempted to tag him for real, I did as my stunt coach had taught me so many years ago and missed his face by a hair's breadth. Maniac grunted a convincing "Unh!" and flung himself backwards. He bounced off the food dispenser and collapsed to the deck, ending up on his back. He kicked his legs a couple of times, then lay deathly still.

The onlookers applauded enthusiastically. A few crewmen at the nearest table got into the spirit and scribbled on their napkins. The applause increased as they held up their marks for all to see: 5.7, 5.6, 5.8, 5.7. Personally, I would have deducted a tenth of a point for Maniac's gratuitous convulsions, but I had to admit he knew how to please a crowd.

Maniac jumped up and took a bow. Turning confidently to McLean, he said mockingly, "Your turn, Sergeant Rockhead!"

I gestured for McLean to assume Maniac's starting position, but he demurred. "I'll do it here, Colonel." He eyed the table behind him for a moment, then turned back to me. "Go ahead." He struck a fighting pose.

I measured the distance and let fly. McLean went "Ugh!", spun completely around, and fell onto the table behind him. Amid clattering trays and dishes, he rolled over the table, bounced off a chair, landed on his head, did a backflip, and landed face down on the deck. A very realistic trickle of fake blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

The crowd greeted McLean's performance with a roar of applause. The judges quickly scribbled on their napkins and held them up: 5.9, 5.8, 5.9, 5.9. McLean was the clear winner.

Maniac glared at the onlookers. "Oh, thanks! Thanks a bunch! See if I ever do Hamlet for YOU morons!" He turned and strode out of the galley in disgust.

Good riddance. I went to congratulate McLean--wow, he was still on the deck! What a showman! "Hey, Sergeant! Congratulations on your performance." I knelt and tapped him on the shoulder. "Stand up and take a bow, Sergeant. Sergeant McLean? Shit! Medic! Get a med--"

"Sir!" Catscradle? Now what? "Sir, Captain Eisen wants to see you. He's expecting a message from the Admiral."

"Oh. OK, wait here for the medics, Catscradle."

"Yes, sir. And it's CatSCRATCH, sir."

"Whatever."

I left McLean with Catscradle and a couple of crewmen. On my way to CIC, I decided that I'd better find some stuntmen for our "Marines" after all—before they killed themselves.

*

Captain Eisen wasn't at his usual spot behind the briefing table, nor was he in his sleeping bag. Looking around, I found him at the engineering station, berating the lieutenant on duty there.

"--and I want to be informed of ALL repairs, no matter how small, LieutenantG'Neer!"

"But sir," he protested, "I didn't even know about it until Lieutenant Commander Ander reported it! And even HE didn't know--"

"Well SOMEBODY must know who fixed that generator!" The Captain would have gone on, but just then Skye entered CIC, carrying a tray in one hand.

"Lieutenant Pilotte!" he called. "What do you have there?"

She stopped and looked at the Captain in confusion. "Sir? Uh, I brought along a snack for my watch--"

"What's on the tray?"

"Er, fruit juice and a bagel."

"Cream cheese on the bagel?"

"Uh, no. Lox."

"Good report, Lieutenant! Keep me informed!" Captain Eisen smiled benignly and motioned for Lt. Pilotte to carry on. Shaking her head, she did so.

With the Captain still occupied at the engineering station, I wandered over to SoSo's alcove. She was busily downloading and decrypting Union, rebel, and Confed communications, and feeding the data to Admiral Willful's flagship. We were still reaping the benefits of our clandestine mission to Orestes IV, the one that had cost Vagabond his life.

Taking advantage of a short break in the action, SoSo leaned back in her chair and stretched. Noticing me, she smiled and said, "Hi, Colonel. The Admiral should be contacting us in a few minutes."

"I can wait, Lieutenant." That damned Admiral always had bad news, anyway. I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did you get it, Velina?"

She giggled. "Oh boy, did I! Major Marshall is gonna wish he'd never been born! Just give me few hours to--" She was interrupted by a priority text message appearing in her holodisplay. "It won't be long, Colonel. The Admiral's aide says to stand by."

It was only then that I realized she wasn't using my--her Mc any more. "Say, SoSo, when did you get your console repaired? I thought we didn't have the parts."

She gave me a strange look. "I-I don't know. I came on watch a few hours ago and it was just...working. Funny thing, I had a can of chips stashed here--you know, the one you traded me for the candle?--and it was gone." She looked over her shoulder at the engineering station, where the Captain was still on Lt. G'Neer's case. "It's strange, we've been getting reports from all over the ship..."

Something nagged at the back of my mind. I'd heard a story in one of the spacer bars on Orestes III...about some kind of gremlin-like creatures...who shouldn't be fed after midnight? Or was that another story?

"SoSo, check with some of the people we picked up from Orestes III. I have a hunch they might know what's going on. I'll see if any of my pilots--Captain! Good day, sir."

Captain Eisen gave me a perfunctory nod. "Colonel, what are you and Lt. Sosa talking about that you don't want to share with your Captain?"

Jeez, he must really be feeling out of the loop. "Er, nothing, sir. Just talking about the weather, heh heh." Even if there really was a problem on board, it was much too soon to voice my suspicions. And our plans for Maniac were none of his business.

"You're not fooling me, Blair," he replied sternly. "You've been going behind my back ever since you were first assigned to me three years ago. You think I'm stupid or something? You think I don't know about your little smuggling operation on the Victory, for instance?"

Oh shit, how did he find out about the T-bombs? "Er, smuggling, sir? Me?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry, Colonel, I won't make a fuss over a single droid...IF you come clean with me from now on."

Droid? Oh, the cleaning droid I'd taken and modified for kitchen work. Whew! I'd thought for a moment he was on to me.

"So, Colonel," continued Eisen relentlessly. "What are you hiding from me THIS time?"

I thought about the actors Eisen thought were elite Marines, and the times I'd covered for them; about Paladin, whom I'd met and released unbeknownst to the Captain; about my neighbor, Zeke, who was really a wanted war criminal; and about the terrible secret of the Kilrathi. I remembered the time I'd concealed my shoulder injury so I could fly the Lexington mission; our little strip party on Orestes IV; the freak accident with the IR missile and the rebel tank that I'd passed off as brilliant flying; the time I'd nailed the jammer frigate by chance; Maniac's inadvertent sale of Union fighters to Confed...

I hung my head. "Sorry, sir. I was just talking to Lieutenant SoSo about...promoting Catscradle."

SoSo had a sudden coughing fit.

Ignoring her, Eisen smiled at me. "That's more like it, Colonel. It just so happens that I've already decided to promote Catscratch to First Lieutenant. So all your secrecy was wasted. Remember that, next time you're tempted to hide something from your Captain."

Nodding vigorously, I replied, "Yes, sir! I've certainly learned my lesson!"

I was finding it hard to keep a straight face. Fortunately, Hulk, Panties, and Maniac walked into CIC just then. The Captain waved them over to the comm alcove. "I see your squadron commanders are here, Colonel." He lowered his voice. "Lieutenant Sosa, please keep this promotion under your hat for now, OK?"

SoSo was looking at me as she replied solemnly, "Oh, I can keep a secret, Captain."

We gathered around the holodisplay. Panties smiled at me, and we clasped hands momentarily. Then the Admiral came on, and she moved just behind me and to my left.

Vice-Admiral Willful was fully dressed this time, slumped on a bench seat behind a table, probably in his cruiser's lounge. Other officers were sitting with him. The one on his left passed him a handmade cigarette. Willful took a drag, coughed a couple of times, and passed it on. Visibly ravaged by his debaucheries, the Admiral's body had deteriorated alarmingly. When he spoke, however, his voice was still strong and youthful.

"Billy! And Detroit Tiger! Congratulations on saving Circe V!"

"Dammit, that's HEART of the--EEP!" Panties had just pinched my bottom, hard.

"Billy," continued the Admiral, "I got a big problem." He paused to puff on the joint as it passed by again. "Thanks to your little code-breaker there--Hi, honey!--we know Confed is sending a weapons convoy through the Speradon System. We have a one-time opportunity to capture some desperately needed armaments: Bearcat fighters, Excaliburs, and some new missile types."

It was hard to pay attention to the Admiral with Panties running her hand up the inside of my leg. I tried to push her hand away without drawing anyone's attention, lest they notice my state of arousal.

Willful took another drag. "You're closest to the Speradon jump point. The trouble is, I also need you to finish off that rebel carrier you're chasing. Otherwise I'll have to delay my landing on Circe IV until you get back. What do you think, Billy?"

Captain Eisen pondered for a moment before answering. "Admiral, let me consult with my squadron leaders before I answer." The Admiral, inhaling deeply on the joint, merely nodded.

Maniac, of course, had to get his two cents in first. "Let's get the weapons, Captain! Hoo boy, with those new Bearcats, we could beat Confed with one hand behind our backs!"

Panties would have none of it. "Wrong, bozo! The longer this war goes on in Circe, the more people are going to get killed--on both sides! Captain, these are our people!"

Hulk turned on her. "Union need weapons for war with Confed! Already running short of fighters! Panties beat Bearcats flown by stupid pirates. Think Panties beat Bearcats flown by Confeds?"

Panties poked Hulk in the chest. "Suppose Confed reinforces the rebels while we're off on our treasure hunt! Then we're right back where we started, stupid!"

That made Hulk mad. "Hulk not stupid! Panties stupid! Panties have PMS!"

"WHAT?" Enraged, Panties jumped him. Hulk pried her off and hurled her against the porta-potty, but she just picked herself up and came running back for more.

"ENOUGH!" roared the Captain. The two antagonists immediately snapped to attention and faced him. He produced his swagger stick. "Extend your right hands, palms up! NOW!"

Reluctantly, Panties and Hulk held out their hands.

Swat! Panties flinched when the stick hit her, but she managed to say, "Thank you, Sister--er, Captain!" in a nearly normal voice.

Swat! Hulk didn't bat an eye. "Hulk thank Captain."

Eisen put down the swagger stick. "And thank you for your opinions. I think. Lieutenant Sosa?"

SoSo kept her eyes on the deck. In a small voice she said, "Please, Captain, let's just put an end to the killing here."

Captain Eisen put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. Colonel?"

There was no question in my mind. "Even if we capture some advanced weapons, they would only postpone the inevitable. The Union can't win a war with Confed, period. Our only chance is to prevent war. That means minimizing the damage and putting a damper on the war fever--on both sides."

Eisen nodded. "I concur. Admiral?"

Willful, his eyes closed, was enjoying his buzz. "Eh? What? Oh. Well, Billy, what have you decided?"

"We'll stay in Circe, Admiral. We can do more good here."

"Willful nodded groggily. "OK, Billy. We'll get ready to...to what? Oh yeah, to take Circe IV! You just eliminate their fighter cover. Willful out."

Hulk suddenly yelped with pain. He held up his right hand and looked at it in confusion.

*

"Colonel, we have to talk."

I paused my patrol simulation. As the symbols froze in mid-air, I pointed my finger at the floating Mc hypermedia field controls and turned down the music. I scooted over slightly, giving Panties room to sit down next to me on the simulated turf. A strand of her hair floated delicately on the light breeze. It occurred to me that I had never seen Tamara's hair down.

"What's on your mind, Panties?"

She leaned back against the virtual oak--it was really the bulkhead of the storage hold--and gazed at the sky. "Us. Time. This not-quite war." She turned her head to look at me. "Chris, we may not have much time left. We'd be fools to waste it."

I longed to take her in my arms. But would that be fair to her? "Tamara, I'm not exactly free. It isn't just Zelda. There are two--"

She smiled. "I know. I talked with Rachel Coriolis, remember? You've managed to avoid commitment with quite a few of us, haven't you, Chris Blair?"

Ouch. She was right, of course. "All the more reason to steer clear of me,girl."

She shook her head. "Wrong, flyboy. That last sitcom mission? When I thought I was dying, all I remember feeling was...regret. I was sorry that we hadn't used the precious time we'd been given. Now we have a second chance. I'm not passing it up."

I hesitated a moment, but I was already lost. Our lips met, and we shared a soft, lingering kiss.

When we parted, Tamara's eyes were sparkling. "Mmmm, that's better. But it's just a down payment. When our work is done here in Circe..."

"That's a date, Tamara. Meanwhile..." I unpaused the simulation and highlighted various patrol sectors in turn. "So far that rebel carrier has avoided our patrols. However, with every negative report, we've narrowed the range of possibilities, until..." I highlighted two zones. "I want you and Garter to take this sector. I'll cover the other with Excell. Maniac will follow us with his Skunks under Wombat escort. When we spot the rebels, Maniac will lower the boom."

Panties nodded. "Looks good, Colonel." Wistfully, she added, "I miss you on my wing, Chris. Can't we...?"

I squeezed her hand. "We will, Tamara. I promise."

*

Zelda planted her ritual kiss on my helmet's tiger emblem before handing it to me. I lingered at the bottom of the ladder for a moment more, caressing her freckled cheek. With a sigh, I climbed up to the Banshee's cockpit, leaving the confusing realm of human relationships for the unambiguous domain of machinery and murder.

SoSo came on the comm. "You're cleared to launch, Earthworm. Good hunting."

"Thanks, Lieutenant. Earthworm launching now." With the confidence of long experience in the Banshee, I hit full thrusters. The launch field ignited my engines, and I transitioned smoothly to cruise.

Excell came up on my wing. "Nice launch, Earthworm. We got some time; who seturn is it?"

Good old Excell. "I believe it's yours, Jen. Last time I told you about that cute little ensign on the Tiger's Claw."

"Heh heh. That was a good one. OK, did I ever tell you about the time these two Marines mistook me for a hooker? I was on leave in Port Aphrodite..."

*

"...and I came so hard I fell off the ladder! Heehee! Nearly broke my ankle!"

"Hahaha! Great story, Excell! OK, my turn. On the Victory, there was this fluffy-haired blonde on the bridge--"

"Earthworm! Bandits in sight." Excell's voice was loud, but calm.

"Roger, I got 'em. Two Hellcats. Must be a patrol from that carrier."

"You gonna taunt 'em, Earthworm?" Excell had something of a reputation in Gopher Squadron for her taunting talents. Border Worlders in general were poor taunters, however, so I wasn't impressed.

"Not exactly. Stay on my wing, Captain."

"OK, but turn me loose soon; I ain't gettin' any younger!"

As we approached the rebel Hellcats, I switched to the general channel. I needed a male for this trick to work properly.

Obligingly, the rebel flight leader hurled his taunt at long range. "Fly or die, loser!" Yesss! A male! Now if only he's hetero...

I activated the transmitter. "Hey, Gomer! You seen the latest Playboy yet? The centerfold is Barbara Dahl!"

"From the Nightly News? Damn! We get our mags about a month late out here!"

"Tell you what: I have a scan, how about I transmit it to you?"

"Oh, wow! Thanks, Union scum! Just a sec here, gotta disable the safety code...OK! Let me have it!"

Man, this was too easy. My upload wasn't a holopic, of course; it was my latest and meanest computer virus. With its safeties disabled, his fighter's AI was helpless against my onslaught by proxy.

It didn't take my opponent long to discover his mistake. "Oh shit! What did you do, you bas--aaaargh!" As his fighter shut down on him, I could hear the rebel leader pounding his controls in frustration.

"Break and attack, Excell!"

“Gonna kick me some rebel butt, Earthworm!" She hit burner and angled for the second Hellcat.

I switched to leech cannon and zeroed in on my helpless target. When he was powerless, I punched the comm again. "You OK, Gomer?"

"Yeah." Not surprisingly, he sounded thoroughly disgusted. "Hey, Union. Did Barbara Dahl really pose for Playboy?"

"Sorry." I dropped a beacon for the Intrepid's shuttle and went to back up Excell. As I expected, however, she took her opponent handily, despite taking an FF on her starboard shields.

"Choke on that, bastard!" she yelled. Now two Hellcats drifted helplessly in space.

We formed up and continued our patrol. My instruments indicated armor hits on Excell's Banshee, so I called her.

"Excell, what's your status?"

"Horny."

"Heh heh." What a kidder! "I meant your fighter."

"It's horny, too."

"Hahaha. Seriously, Excell, my scan shows--"

"Sir! A little privacy, please?" She turned down her volume, but not so far that I couldn't hear a faint "Oooooh..."

I chuckled to myself as I broke the connection. Good old Excell. What a sense of humor!

On a whim, I reconnected. Jen's eyes were closed and she was moaning softly. I hurriedly broke off again. Maybe she wasn't kidding? But how could she, er, do anything in the bulky flight suit? She'd have had to pre-insert... Naaah. Of course, that might explain why she was always so relaxed after a mission...

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Damn, now I was getting horny, too. And unlike Excell, I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

*

I was still trying to find a way to relieve my frustration when Excell broke comm silence. She sounded much more mellow after her...interlude.

"Say, Earthworm," she said languidly. "If we meet a female flight leader next time, why don't I use your transmit trick on her?"

"Good idea, Excell. Stand by to receive my virus file." Anything to get my mind off sex.

"No, actually, I...OK, receiving. Hey, Earthworm, did I ever tell you about the time I did it with my high school spaceball team?"

Oh, shit.

*

We were nearing the limit of our outbound leg, and I was thinking seriously of asking Excell for comm silence; I couldn't take many more of her stories without exploding. When Panties called in with the position of the enemy task force, however, I forgot my plight. Excell and I immediately set out for the scene of the impending battle; Maniac and his Skunks would need us.

As we neared the rebel ships, friendlies and bandits began popping up on our scopes. Fighters on both sides were converging on the battle like moths to a flame. Off to our starboard, a four-Hellcat rebel patrol was returning to defend the carrier. We changed course to intercept.

The Hellcats spotted us and angled in for the attack. They had to take us out before they could go for our incoming Avengers.

The Circe V rebels had a habit of taunting at long range; this patrol was no exception.

"Are you ready to die, Union slime?"

Hah, a female! I kept silent, letting Excell take up the challenge.

"Hey, Daisy Mae!" she called. "Seen the latest issue of Plowboy?" Heh heh, that's how to bait the hook, Excell.

"No, dammit. We get our stuff about a month late out here."

"Well, the centerfold this month is awesome! Twenty-five centimeters at least! Here, I'll send you a scan."

"Hey, thanks. Disabling safety code...OK, shoot!" The rebel flight leader was all but drooling.

I could barely contain my laughter as I waited for her Hellcat to lose power. Any time now...any second...any time...Damn, what was taking--

The rebel leader came on the comm again. "Oh wow! You weren't kidding! Look at the size of--"

What the hell? I switched to the wingman channel. "Excell, what the hell did you do?"

"I sent the centerfold, of course. Just like I promised. Now watch."

"But--" I switched to the general channel again. The rebel flight leader was still on, only her eyes were closed and she was moaning. What the-- Jeez, did all the Border Worlds issue their female fliers with...special equipment?

No time to speculate. I locked a leech on the nearest Hellcat. Getting close, closer...launch! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Missile closing...ready...decoy! Veer right! Hah! Lost lock! Shit, my leech missed! Turn, Blair!

"Choke on that, bitch!"

Good, Excell took out the flight leader. "Status, Excell?"

"Those fools can't touch MY ass!"

That's my Excell! Except that two Hellcats are after her now. I gotta finish my guy quick. He's turning, but my Banshee is nimbler! Check six, Blair! Clear! This guy is mine! Closing...CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! His shields are down. He jinks and turns, but I'm right on his ass. CHUG! CHUG! Adjust speed, Blair, don't overshoot. CHUG! CHUG! Yesss! Leeched!

I yanked my Banshee around and headed for Excell. She was chasing one Hellcat, but the other was right on her tail, blasting away with particle and ion guns. As I watched, an IR exploded against her rear shields.

"They're buzzin' me bad, Earthworm! Where the hell are you?"

"Coming, girl!" Burner, Blair!

I fired at Excell's trailer as soon as my leech locked. The range was long, but at least it peeled him off her ass. He successfully evaded my missile, only to find me close on his tail when my leech lost lock. This guy used every trick in the book, succumbing only after a prolonged barrage from my leechcannon.

Excell had engine damage, which allowed her man to outdistance her. She launched one last leech at him as he fled, however, and that did the trick. "Your hairy ass is MINE, bastard!" she screamed.

Explosions flared in the distance. If we were going to help Skunk Squadron, we had to get going. "Status, Excell?"

"They're gonna have to hit me a lot more than this! Autorepair is on, I'll be back to full speed in a minute."

"Then let's go! We got a carrier to nail!"

*

By the time we arrived, Maniac's carefully coordinated attack had fallen apart in the face of the rebel fighter defense. Several Avengers had broken off their runs and were fighting for their lives in the midst of Union and Rebel fighters. One group of three, however, was boring in on the carrier at full speed. Their Banshee cover was rapidly being stripped off by rebel Hellcats, so Excell and I burned in to help.

Excell immediately got tangled up with a rebel. I stuck with the Avengers, which my AI identified as Maniac, September, and Catscradle. Our run took us toward one of the two frigates, and we came under murderous fire from its turrets. Maniac, of course, wouldn't give up his primary target for a mere frigate, so September peeled off to tackle it. The frigate immediately switched its fire to her. I zoomed in ahead to take some of the heat myself.

Bobbing and weaving my nimble Banshee, I burned in on the frigate. At max range, I fired my scattergun until my gun cells were exhausted. With all extra energy diverted to the shields, I could do no more. I turned my fresh rear shields to the frigate and retreated, wishing for the umpteenth time that I had a pair of tachyon guns to take out a laser turret or two.

Front shields partially restored, I looped back into the fight, leveling out about a thousand klicks behind September. She had launched three of her four torps when a pair of laser bolts slammed into her nose. The fighter veered to starboard and exploded a split second after September ejected.

The frigate was turning desperately to evade the torpedoes. With only three running, the pattern was incomplete, allowing the frigate to avoid all but one. That one took down its shields, however, and I bored in to complete the job. At five thousand klicks, I launched four leeches toward the stern. On my rollout, the laser fire suddenly ceased, and I knew the leeches had done their job.

No rest for the weary. Heedless of my fuel supply, I burned toward the rebel carrier. Judging by the fireworks, it was still under--KABOOM! Wow, four beautiful torpedo hits! That could only be Maniac's work. The ship staggered and slowed, flaring with secondary explosions, its turrets silent. It was still spaceworthy, however, so we had to hit--yes, Catscradle was going in now, accompanied by Panties and Garter.

I switched to the general channel and heard Panties screaming at the rebels. "Strike your flag, you morons! You want to die for fucking CONFED? You think Hinton will come to your funerals? For God's sake, strike!"

Maniac interrupted her tirade. "Launch, Catscratch! What the hell are you waiting for? Nail those bastards, you backwoods boob! Think of the glory! Think of the WOMEN!"

"Earthworm!" wailed Catscradle. "What should I do?" He was rapidly nearing minimum firing distance.

The rebel captain came on the comm before I could reply. Her image was fuzzy, partly from interference, and partly from the smoke on her bridge. "This is Captain Apton! Cease fire!" she yelled. "We surrender! All Circe units, cease fire! Union, hold your fire!"

I sighed with relief. "Catscradle! Take up station behind the carrier. Lock your torps and fire if any rebels come near. Tex! Take station behind the second frigate. Same orders. Captain Apton! You have my gratitude and my respect. Please set course for these coordinates, where you'll rendezvous with our task force. Our medical staff will assist with your wounded."

She was proud, that rebel captain, but she was also smart enough to know when the game was up. "Thank you, Colonel Blair. It's fortunate for us that the Heart of the Tiger has a human heart as well."

I opened my mouth to reply, then thought better of it. This was probably the wrong time to tell her that I'd been about to order Catscradle to destroy hership.

*

On the way back to Intrepid, I ordered the few remaining Vindicators of Turkey Squadron to relieve the Avengers guarding the rebels. Captain Eisen detached BWS Friggit to put prize crews aboard the ships and tow the disabled frigate.

Panties and Garter had landing priority, being the shortest of fuel. When they were down safely, SoSo commed me.

"The Captain sends his congratulations, Earthworm. Good work." Then, for just a moment, SoSo dropped the professionalism. "And thank you, Chris, for sparing the lives of those Border Worlders."

"Uh, actually, SoSo, I was all set to--"

"YouhaveclearanceEarthwormIntrepidout!"

Dammit! Even as the Wing Commander, I couldn't get a word in edgewise!

*

My parrot flew onto my shoulder as I climbed out of the cockpit. I hadn't seen it in some time, as lately it had been nesting in the service bays and flying freely around the flight deck. Someday the little birdbrain would fly through one of the end force fields and freeze its giblets.

"Rawwk! Welcome back, stud! Welcome back!"

I stroked its feathers. "Thanks, birdie. Good to be back."

Zelda was waiting for me at the bottom of the ladder with her arms outstretched. However, I cut our hug short this time; I had some chewing out to do. I hustled over to Excell's service bay, arriving just as she climbed down from her Banshee.

I tapped her on the shoulder. "Captain Ayers! You mind telling me why you sent that rebel bitch a centerfold instead of my AI virus?"

"Rawwk! Stupid bitch!"

Calmly and deliberately, Excell handed her helmet to her chief tech. Then she sighed in exasperation. "You men!" she declared. "Always going for the hardware!" Excell ran her finger slowly down my cheek, across my lips, and down my neck. Seductively, she continued, "Don't you understand? Targeting the wetware is much more...effective..."

Then she turned and walked briskly away, leaving me with a gaping mouth and a bulge in my flight suit.

"Can I help you with that, Blairbear?"

Dimly, I realized that Zelda had followed me. "Help me?"

"Getting off...your flight suit. Can I help you take it off?"

I snapped out of it. "Uh, no!" I said hurriedly, holding my helmet in front of me. "Thanks, but I'll, uh, take it off in the locker room."

"Rawwk! Jerk off, jerk! Beat your m--"

"Shut up, bird!" I chased it away. After I got out of my flight suit, I'd have to visit the head. Then I'd better make some, er, modifications to the suit before the next mission!

End of Chapter 22

Previews from Chapter 23:

"You're the problem, dwarf! You know why?"

"Earthworm! Catscratch is in big trouble!"

"You're nothing but gutter dogs, Border Worlders!"

"Hey, Blair! Proud of yourself, Mr. big-shot WING Commander?"

Chapter 23

I gave Ike an account of my mission with Excell, then I stuck around to help debrief Panties and Garter. After spotting the enemy task force, they had maintained contact at maximum sensor range, playing tag with the rebel CAP until our strike force arrived. They then accepted battle with the two nearest Hellcats and leeched both of them. After disposing of the CAP, Panties and Garter afterburned into the melee around the rebel ships, arriving in time to cover Catnip's run.

It was an outstanding performance in any man's navy, let alone the Union's. As Ike pumped Panties for more details, I took Garter aside.

"Damn good work, Garter. I see a bright future for you in the Militia."

He beamed with pride. "Thank you, sir. But I just did what Colonel Farnsworth told me. She's the best."

Indeed. Of the many pilots I'd known, only Angel had been better. And Angel was dead.

"Um, sir?"

"Something on your mind, Garter?"

He nodded. "I was just, uh, wondering... Are you, uh, seeing anyone right now, sir?"

I considered for a moment. As a kid I had experimented, of course, but I'd lost interest in all that years ago. Besides, I was already up to my neck in romance. Of course, if I ever needed a way out...

"Yeah, I'm kind of...involved at the moment, Garter." I pretended to think for a moment. "You might try Major Marshall," I suggested helpfully.

He brightened. "Really? Gee, thanks, sir!"

As he left the ready room, I indulged myself in a brief vision of his upcoming conversation with Maniac. Smiling, I rejoined Ike and Panties.

"Fabulous!" declared Ike. "Just fabulous! Three more ships for the Union, courtesy of Confed! Of course they're a little banged up, but beggars can't be choosers. And the prisoners! We're sitting on a gold mine of intel--"

"Not prisoners!" interrupted Panties. "They're Border Worlders, like us!"

Ike didn't get it. "Brilliant, Colonel! Treat 'em like guests, they'll be more likely to spill what they know! Great idea!" Ike grinned at me. "This is one special gal you got here, Colonel!"

I looked at Tamara. "I know, Ike," I said quietly.

He missed the byplay. "Excuse me, I gotta get this stuff to Captain Eisen. The Old Man's been on my case ever since we came to Circe."

Panties watched him leave. "You know, Chris, for an Intel expert, sometimes that guy--"

"--doesn't have a clue. I know." I hesitated a moment. "Look, Tamara, maybe he's not the only one who's missing something. I admire your sense of...of kinship with the folks from Circe IV, but the fact is, they don't seem to share your scruples about killing fellow Border Worlders."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me that Border Worlders may be in on the conspiracy? That they're ready to sacrifice their own people?" She searched my eyes. "Do you know something, Chris?"

I longed to tell her of Paladin's warning about traitors on both sides. He was Covert Ops, however, and she probably wouldn't believe him. In fact, she might suspect me for letting him go. She didn't know him like I did. Hell, she barely knew me.

"Uh, just a feeling, Tamara. Border Worlders are only human, and Covert Ops can be very, very persuasive." And their professional paranoia was very, very infectious, dammit.

*

I wanted to talk more with Panties, but Admiral Willful had sent us a few replacement fighters and pilots, and one of us had to take the Banshee pilot sin hand. Since I wanted to debrief the returning Skunks myself, Panties was the only choice.

I headed over to Maniac's service bay to await his return. I found Louise and Barr there, working on a circuit breaker panel. They were pretty engrossed in their work, so I didn't disturb them.

Maniac landed with his usual flamboyance, nearly clipping one of our shuttles on his way in. I waited patiently for him to taxi into the bay and climbdown from the cockpit. No amount of fussing would have hurried him up, anyway.

"Hey, Ace!" he called, noticing me waiting. "Did you see my torpedo spread? Poetry in motion! Haha ha! I nailed that carrier like--"

"Maniac, you dunce! Why didn't you take out that frigate? You were closer to it than September was! She had to do a job that should have been yours, and it cost us a ship and nearly a pilot as well!"

"What, that's my fault? I was ordered to nail a carrier, and that's what I did! Besides, that frigate wasn't the problem!" He pointed his finger at me. "You're the problem, dwarf! You know why?"

"Maniac, I really don't care--"

"Because you've always been jealous, always putting me down! Why?" His voice took on that nyah-nyah tone that always pissed me off. "Because I get all the babes!"

He walked over to Lt. Tennant and put his arm around her. "Women of taste know when a guy has what it takes to fulfill their--shall we say--needs. Right, sweet buns?"

I cringed, anticipating Lou's reaction. To my surprise, however, she smiled up at Maniac. "It just so happens I need you right now, big boy."

Maniac did a double-take. "You do? Well!" He reached for her eagerly.

She fended him off. "No, no, I need you to go to that inspection panel over there and take up the slack on the cable." Seeing Maniac's disappointed expression, she added, "We can discuss my other...needs...a little later."

Maniac brightened. He hurried over to the panel and reached in. "This cable?" he asked, pointing. When Lou nodded, he grabbed it and yanked.

BZZT! There was a bright blue flash, and Maniac was catapulted backward a good two meters, landing on his rump. He sat there in a fog, his hair standing on end. "W-was it good for you, too, Lou?" he asked dazedly.

"Yes, thank you, Major!" she answered, smiling. She turned to Barr. "You see,Fern, it's THIS breaker, not that one."

I knelt beside Maniac. "My apologies, good buddy. You were right. When it comes to women, you really make the sparks fly. I guess I'm just jealous of your electromagnetic personality." I patted his shoulder and left.

*

I found Hulk at the simulators with his new pilots, whom he was instructing on ground support operations. It was a good bet the Admiral would want us to support his landing on Circe IV, so we had to be ready. Panties was also there with our new Banshee pilots, trying to cram a month's worth of practice into a few hours. I joined the "fun," and together we gave those rookies a workout they'd never forget.

In the end, however, Panties and I gave out before the newbies; three days of constant operations had taken their toll on us. I assigned Primate to continue their instruction--a duty which required no banana incentive--and invited Panties to the storage hold where I normally slept. I wanted her in my bed, even if it was just for sleeping. Evidently she felt the same way, because she accepted readily. Perhaps the thought of Border Worlders collaborating with Covert Ops had her feeling a bit lost and lonely.

The hold was quiet. Operating short-handed as we were, our bunk time was too precious to waste on anything but sleep. "My" bunk, the one I usually used, was empty. Noticing the flickering light at the back of the hold, I excused myself for a moment to investigate. Yes, it was SoSo all right, but she wasn't alone; Catnip was with her, and they were holding hands as they knelt in front of the candle.

Again, I felt a twinge of jealousy. The time SoSo and I were at her shrine, I had felt closer to her than before or since. Then I smiled. Even if I really had feelings for her, a cynical old man like me wasn't right for our young cryptanalyst. Catnip--young, naive, idealistic--was a far better choice.

Chuckling, I returned to my--our--bunk. Tamara was already under the covers, her outer clothing stowed neatly below the bed. I peeled to my skivvies and joined her. Too tired to do anything but cuddle, we exchanged a few chaste caresses before settling down to sleep. I don't know who fell asleep first, but I do know I enjoyed the most pleasant dreams I'd had in a long time.

*

"Keelrathee een sight, Mavereeck!"

"Roger, Angel. Break and attack!" Oh, my Angel, you're here! I had the most terrible nightmare that I'd lost you!

"Taking it to 'em!" Flint? Where did Angel go? But it was good to have Flint back on my wing.

"Let's dance, you bastards!" Panties? What happened to Flint? And Angel? What's going on?

"Sir?" Huh? Catnip? No, no, I don't want him on my wing--

"Wake up, sir. The Captain wants you." He shook me again.

"OK, OK, I'm awake!" Damn. When I die and go to Hell, Lucifer is going to make this damn kid my alarm clock!

I slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb Panties. She opened her eyes for a second, gave me the finger, and went back to sleep.

I was trying to dress, but I had somehow gotten two feet down the same pant leg."This better be good, Catnip."

"It is, sir. Captain Apton--the rebel commander--is coming aboard. She wants to talk."

That brought me fully awake. "Well why didn't you say so, Catnip? Let's go."

*

Hulk was already in CIC, discussing the state of his squadron with Captain Eisen. Maniac was off to one side, singing to himself.

"...where everybody knows your na-ame, and they're always glad you ca-ame..."

Catnip excused himself to talk with SoSo over in the comm alcove; the two of them were soon in a world of their own.

A few minutes after Catnip and I arrived, Captain Apton limped into CIC. She was escorted by Privates Wang and Damppuss. The two Marines took up posts by the door, their weapons at the ready. Eisen waved SoSo and Catnip over to the briefing table; no doubt he wanted the soon-to-be First Lieutenant to get a taste of high-level negotiations.

Captain Apton stopped a meter or so in front of Captain Eisen. She was about as tall as I, but she was older, with streaks of gray in her dark hair. Her uniform--Confed blue, bearing a Circe IV patch--was rumpled and dirty. Despite her fatigue and injuries, she stood straight and unbowed in front of the man who had beaten her at Circe V.

For a long time, the two commanders regarded each other silently. Eisen spoke first. "Hello, Afton," he said quietly.

"Hello, Will," she replied. "It's been a long time."

"Yes. I only wish our reunion could have been under happier circumstances. "Eisen turned to the rest of us. "Captain Apton and I worked our way up on the old Victory together. She was my first officer until she got her own ship."

I held out my hand. "An honor, Captain. I'm Christopher Blair." I indicated Hulk and Maniac. "Squadron commanders Manley and Marshall."

She gripped my hand firmly. "Yes, the Heart of the Tiger." She frowned. "But wait, aren't you the guy from--"

"No, he's not," interrupted Eisen. "Now, Afton, you said you had information for us..."

"Yes." She took a data cartridge out of her pocket and handed it to SoSo. "I disagreed with my government's decision to secede from Confed, so when a pro-Confed faction seized power, I went along. My reward was a Confed carrier--an old one, but with fight still in her--and command of a task force." She looked away from Eisen. "I was so full of myself that I didn't stop to ask why Confed was supplying us with all this equipment, or what they'd want in return."

Eisen nodded grimly. "I remember when I assumed command of the Victory. It can be quite...intoxicating."

"Well, I learned the price of command soon enough. Our new Directorate was 'persuaded' by Confed to bring Circe V back into the fold. Covert Ops swore the planet's armed forces were riddled with dissent. We'd win a bloodless victory before the Union could intervene." Anger flashed in her eyes. "Hah! What fools we were!"

She took a moment to regain her composure before going on. "Our casualty lists soon taught us the value of Confed promises, but by then it was too late. While the Militia was off-planet, the Directorate arrested opposition figures and took hostages to ensure the 'loyalty' of the Militia commanders. My grandchildren are among them!"

SoSo was outraged. "They'd actually kill children?"

Captain Apton shook her head. "Worse. They threaten to expose them to...to sitcoms!" Her face twisted in anguish.

A horrified silence ensued. "Bastards!" whispered Catnip.

Maniac, however, wasn't impressed. "Hey, you guys really believe that sob story? She's trying to set us up! You'll see!"

Captain Eisen was about to bite off Maniac's head, but Apton stopped him with a hand on his arm. "You're right, Major," she said evenly. "I do have an ulterior motive. I'm here on my knees, begging you to save my family from my foolishness."

Maniac crossed his arms triumphantly. "Hah! I knew it!"

Captain Eisen threw Maniac an I'll-deal-with-you-later look. To Apton he said, "I sympathize, Afton, but there may not be much we can do. If the other commanders put their families first and choose to fight..."

"That's why I'm here, Will." She signaled to SoSo, who put a diagram of the Circe System up on the main display. Using Captain Apton's data, the computer added several groups of ships. Eisen handed her his remote.

"You and your admiral have wiped out most of our fighters, Will." She highlighted an outfit coming in from the Corinth jump point. "But this convoy was already on its way from Confed HQ with new fighters--two wings of Thunderbolts...and Confed pilots."

Eisen looked at her sharply. "Confed?"

"Yes, Will, Confed is getting directly involved. You'll have to take out that convoy before it unloads, or you can't save the hostages." She zoomed in on Circe IV, to a valley on a large island in the southern hemisphere. The view settled on a Militia base guarded by several prominent laser turrets.

"The hostages are being held here. I don't have the faintest idea how to do it, but if you can rescue them, I'm sure the other commanders will surrender. They've had enough of C-Confed."

Her voice broke, and tears began streaming down her cheeks. "P-please Will, help them! We m-meant something to each other...once..."

Eisen immediately took her in his arms. "It's all right, Afton. We'll do our best. Colonel Blair, I'll accompany Captain Apton to sick bay. I want you to come up with a rescue plan. The rest of you, dismissed!"

I watched, fascinated, as he led his old flame out of CIC. He'd discussed his ex-wife and kids with me many times, but this was the first I'd heard of a former girlfriend.

I followed SoSo over to her station. "SoSo, any chance of bluffing our way into the base with our stolen codes?" She didn't seem to hear me. "Hey, are you OK?"

"Wha? Oh. Yes, sir. It's just that Major Marshall was so mean to that poor woman! I'm so mad--"

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe it's time to spring our surprise, Soso. Maniac and Catnip were headed for the galley; give me about fifteen minutes."

She grinned. "You got it, sir!"

*

The galley was fairly crowded, since this was close to the time SoSo always replayed the latest Nightly News. I waved at Zelda, who was sitting with several of her techs at the other end of the compartment. I found Maniac and Catnip at the table nearest the big galley window. Maniac was lecturing his eager young student.

"...and another thing, Catscratch: Always volunteer for the solo missions."

Catnip looked doubtful. "Solos? Why, sir? They're usually milk runs."

Maniac smiled indulgently at his pupil's ignorance. Leaning closer for emphasis, he replied, "You don't get it, kid. You see, with no overbearing senior officers around--Hi, Ace! Have a seat!--to make you fly like your grandma, you can take the scenic route, maybe stir up a little trouble. If you do find some action, you get it all to yourself. No wingmen or glory boys--"He glared at me. "--to steal your kills!"

"And nobody to cover your ass, either," I said, sitting down next to Catnip.

Catnip looked from me to Maniac, and back again. "I don't know, sir," he said skeptically. "Major Marshall does have quite a kill score." Maniac smiled smugly at me.

"Yeah, Catnip, he does. He also has a long list of dead wingmen. You fly like him, you'll die. Period."

Maniac was outraged. "Quit picking on the kid, Ace! He's just looking for away to break out of the pack." He turned to Catnip again. "One thing about emulating the Maniac, you'll have to put up with a lot of crap from lesser pilots." He jerked his thumb in my direction. "The price of excellence is eternal envy! Ha ha ha!"

Catnip turned to me. "You talk safe and sane, Colonel, but that's not how you flew that mission in Pasqual. I've tried your way, and look at me: still a Second Lieutenant! No offense, sir, but I can do better."

Damn that Maniac! "Catnip, I screwed up big time on that Pasqual--"

Catnip stood up and took his tray. "Excuse me, sir, I need to practice some new moves in the simulator." He strode out of the galley like a man with a purpose.

Maniac was grinning at me, knowing how it pissed me off. I jabbed my finger at him. "Maniac, if anything happens to him because of you--"

He snorted. "Don't worry, Mother Goose, the only thing that's gonna happen to him is success. You'll see. And another thing, I don't like the way you--"Maniac suddenly looked at his watch. "Hold it, Ace, it's time for the news. Say, did I ever tell you about the time I scored with Barbara Dahl? You see,just before I joined the Victory--"

I shook my head in disbelief. "You really fancy yourself quite the ladies' man, don't you, Maniac?"

Indignantly, Maniac retorted, "'Fancy?' I AM, Ace! Take my last cabin shift, for instance." He looked around for eavesdroppers. "Now I'm too much of a gentleman to name names, but I had one of the hottest babes on the ship, and she was really INTO it, if you know what I--"

The Nightly News logo suddenly flashed on the holodisplay, and the crowd in the galley immediately quieted. I thought at first that SoSo had made a mistake and put on the real news, but then I realized that the blonde in the display was actually SoSo herself. She had somehow improvised a wig with color and hairstyle identical to Barbara Dahl's.

"Good evening," she said. "I'm Barbara Dahl, and this is the Nightly News."

Wow, her accent and mannerisms were perfect copies of Barbara's! I'd had no idea she was so talented. I looked around the galley. People were whispering excitedly and nudging each other, obviously aware something was up. The real SoSo was standing by the hatch, having come from CIC to watch her pre-recorded masterpiece. I gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and she smiled back.

On the holovid, SoSo/Barbara continued, "Tonight we return to the Union of Border Worlds, where another serious shortage has hit the Militia. The Border Worlders, however, are handling the crisis with their customary ingenuity. The shortage? Women! The solution..."

The scene changed to the inside of one of Intrepid's crew cabins, where an amorous couple was vigorously making love. Maniac, of course, was instantly recognizable, but it was his companion who drew the crowd's interest.

It was the "Miss July Inflatable" from his Playboy collection.

The audience exploded into hysterical laughter. In seconds, people were literally rolling on the floor. Others were convulsing helplessly in their chairs, pointing to the spectacle on the holovid. The harder Maniac worked, the more they laughed.

I was laughing as hard as anyone. This exceeded my wildest dreams of revenge. Through my tears, I managed to steal a glance at Maniac--the real one--on the other side of the table. He was staring at the holovid in stunned silence, eyes and mouth wide open, face red as a tomato.

Lt. Homes staggered to our table, clutching his side and trying hard to control his merriment. "Hey, Maniac!" he gasped. "D-does she have a SISTER? Wahaha!" He fell to the deck, face twisted in hilarious agony.

From the next table, Louise called, "No, no, Major! Does she have a B-BROTHER? Ahahaha!" She, too, dropped to the deck, rolling around in fetal position.

Forceps was sitting at a table to my left. "Hey, Major!" he yelled sternly. "That's not the correct instrument for a tonsilectomy! Har har har!"

I knew it might be fatal to provoke him myself, but I couldn't resist. "Gee, Maniac--Heehee!--I always knew you preferred airheads--Wahahaha!--but this is rid--"

With a cry of rage, Maniac leaped over the table, hands straining for my throat. We went down hard, but I was laughing so much I didn't feel a thing.

His hands closed on my windpipe. "This was YOUR idea, WASN'T IT, RUNT?"

Though weak with laughter, I nevertheless managed to loosen his hands long enough to croak, "J-just a little payback from the Heart of the Kitchen! Hahahaha--urk!"

I might have checked out right then and there if Zelda hadn't come over and tapped him on the shoulder. "Quite a durable bedmate you have there, Major. She takes a thumping and keeps on humping! Wheeheeheehee!"

"AAARRRGGGHHH!" Maniac let me go and went for Zelda, pinning her to the table with his hands at her throat. Weakly, I struggled to my feet. Three of us tried to pull him off Zelda, but our humor-impaired efforts were too feeble. Zelda was turning blue--and still laughing--when Forceps stuck a hypo into Maniac's neck. He collapsed and slid down to the deck.

It looked like he'd be out for quite a while. "Thanks, Forceps," I said, still chuckling. I gave Zelda a hand up. She was rubbing her throat, but she just couldn't stop giggling.

Lt. Cmdr. Ander crawled by. With a supreme effort, he heaved himself up into a chair. "Colonel," he gasped, "I must say, it certainly hasn't been dull on this ship since you joined us, sir! Heh heh." He drew Forceps' attention back to the holovid, where Maniac was still going strong. "So, Forceps, have you ever seen anything like that? Hee hee!"

Forceps produced his cup and spat into it. "Kid," he said, unimpressed, "I been a medic more 'n thirty years. I seen everythin'!" He knelt and heaved Maniac over his shoulders. "C'mon, Cassanova, you can cool off in sick bay."

*

I ran into Hulk and Panties just outside CIC.

"What's up, Panties?" I asked. I'd been in the Control Bay with Primate, planning our strike on the Confed convoy, when Barr had brought the order to report to CIC.

Panties shrugged. "Squadron commanders report to the Captain. That's all I heard, Earthworm. He didn't tell you anything?"

"Nope. I hope he doesn't want another report on what I ate for breakfast." Captain Eisen had been demanding a lot of details lately.

The door slid open and we went inside. SoSo and Catnip were standing together by the briefing table. Eisen was pacing impatiently in front of the main holodisplay. The bridge of Admiral Willful's flagship was visible in it, but the seat at his console was empty.

"Where is Major Marshall?" Eisen asked me, irritation in his voice.

I tried to keep a straight face. "Er, the Major is--heh heh--indisposed, sir."

SoSo couldn't resist adding, "Yes, sir, he was, er, breaking in a new wingman--Hee hee!--and he, er, overdid it." She stifled another giggle.

Catnip nudged her in annoyance. He didn't seem very amused by his hero's humiliation.

Eisen looked at me sharply. "Colonel, what is going--" He stopped. "Nevermind; I don't want to know."

The Captain drew himself up to his full height. He'd lost a lot of weight on the ship's insipid cuisine; he looked ten years younger. "Ahem. I have a couple of announcements to make. First: Catscratch, as of 1200 hours today you're FIRST Lieutenant Carter. Congratulations, son."

SoSo squealed and hugged her man. We all gathered around Catnip, pounding his back and shaking his hand.

"So, Catnip," I said, hand on his shoulder. "You still think 'Maniac moves' are the only way to get ahead?"

"I don't know, sir," he said stubbornly. "Maybe this would have come sooner if I'd followed Major Marshall's advice from the begin--ouch!" SoSo elbowed him in the ribs.

Captain Eisen indulged our horseplay a few moments longer before clearing his throat. "Ahem! Second announcement: I've decided--Oh, Admiral Willful! I trust you're feeling better, sir?"

I turned to the holodisplay. The Admiral was just sitting down in front of his console. He was deathly pale, his face sagged, and he was sweating profusely. His nurse leaned into the field of view to wipe his forehead--Whoa! Look at the pair on that--

"Much better, Billy!" Willful grinned and pinched his nurse's behind. She promptly slapped his face, which bothered him not one bit. "Ouch! Haw haw! Don't worry, Billy, it was just another coronary. I get one whenever I want a little extra TLC!" He tried to peek down the front of his nurse's low-cut uniform.

Eisen studiously ignored the Admiral's antics. "Er, ahem. Admiral, with less than two weeks until the vote, I've decided we can't wait to gather any more evidence. I'm taking what we have to Earth. I'll try to get it to President Hinton and certain members of the Great Dissembly. Oh, and on the way, I'll drop Captain Apton with your flagship. She'll be invaluable if it actually comes to a landing on Circe IV."

We were thunderstruck. The Admiral, however, took it in stride. Slipping his words between gropes of his nurse, he said, "Good idea, Billy--Hah, gotcha!--So who'll be taking--Ouch!--who'll be taking over for you there?--Oooo, this one's ripe!--That strapping young Lunatic fellow?--Ow!"

"Major Marshall? Er, no, Admiral. I've chosen Colonel Blair." He pulled me closer to the display, amidst moans and groans from everyone in CIC.

"Not the Tiger Moth!" Willful took his hand out from under his nurse's micro-skirt and stuck a cigar in his mouth. "Well, it's your call, Billy. Blair! I know you want to hit that transport convoy with all you've got, but I need your fighters, too." The display switched to a diagram of the Circe System. "I've chased this rebel fleet all the way from the asteroid belt. If they make it to the safety of Circe IV's orbital defenses, they'll play holy hell with my landing. I want you to hit them hard, slow them down. If you can destroy a couple, fine, but you must delay 'em so I can catch up and finish 'em."

Acutely aware that I was now in the hot seat, I carefully considered the times and distances involved. "Admiral, we have two targets and time for one strike; if I try to hit both, I'll have to divide my forces. I don't think--"

"Good! Don't! Haw haw haw! Never liked thinkers anyway!" He lit his cigar and sucked on it gratefully. "Ahhhhh! Oh, one more thing, Tiger Moth: I know your food synthesizers have been acting up you. I've had a courier ship drop off a cargo canister of fresh grub on its way to Union HQ. You can send out a tractor-capable ship to pick it up." The canister's position appeared in the display. "Willful ou--"

The Admiral was interrupted by his nurse, who reached down and slapped the cigar out of his mouth. Willful gleefully grabbed her and threw her across his knee. Lifting her skirt with one hand, the Admiral prepared to strike. "Over and out, Blair. Now, honey, you need some discipline!"

SPANK!

"Eee!"

The display went dark.

Captain Eisen stared wistfully at the blank display. "You know, I would have made admiral if I hadn't crossed Tolwyn..." Sighing, he reached for his bag. "I think I can trust my contacts in Confed, but if this is good-bye..." He held out his hand. "Well, good luck, Colonel."

I panicked. He was leaving already? I gripped his hand like a drowning man. "B-but Captain, you can't go yet! We haven't...we haven't had your going-away lunch! Yeah, that's it! And the ceremony! And I have to get you a present--"

Eisen wrenched his hand loose. "No ceremony! No presents! Now quit your blubbering. After all the grief you've caused me, it's time you found out what it's like in my shoes. Besides, you people are ALREADY running the ship behind my back! Good riddance!" Eisen was out of CIC so fast the doors barely had time to slide open.

Just like that, I was in charge. Well, maybe I really could pull it off. After all, hadn't I seen every episode of "Bar Trek: The Mixed Generation?"

Assuming an air of confidence I didn't feel, I turned to my people. "OK, top priority is getting that food. Volunteers?" Everyone's hand shot up. "SoSo, you twit, you're not a pilot! Catnip, the job is yours." Whew. Ever since he'd taken up with SoSo, I'd been looking for excuses to keep him out of harm's way. I didn't think she could take losing him.

"Dismissed, people." Mmmm, I could taste that fresh food--

Panties put her hand up again. "Sir?" she said, trying to keep a straight face. "The convoy? The rebel fleet?"

Details, details! "SoSo, go notify our escorts we'll be going to full speed momentarily. Panties, you'll lead the strike on the Circe IV fleet. Take everyone not on patrol. Primate will take the Wombats. Maniac's still out--heh heh--so Tex can take the Skunks. I'll need a Banshee pilot to hit the transports with me. Who's the steadiest pilot among our replacements?"

Panties' eyes grew wider with each order. "Er, Rubberducky. He's had some combat. But sir, with only two Banshees, how can you--"

Radiating self-assurance, I replied, "Hey, I'm the Tiger M--er, Heart of the Tiger! Besides, I have a plan." Or rather, I'd have one by the time we hit the convoy. I hoped.

"Sir?" It was SoSo. I hurried over to her station, followed by Panties, Hulk, and Catnip.

"Sir, the Captain's shuttle is clear. Our escorts are standing by."

"Thank you." I put my hands behind my back and turned to address my—MY--crew. "Ahem. Now I know you people may have some misgivings about me subbing for Captain Eisen. He's certainly left some big shoes to fill. I assure you, however, that I'm fully qualified to command this ship." I had to gain their confidence quickly. Standing tall--as tall as I could--and undaunted, I pointed dramatically toward the bow.

"Helm, full sp--"

"Sir!" interrupted Lt. Pilotte. "Um, you're pointing aft, sir."

Oops. I turned 180 degrees and looked inquiringly at her.

"Starboard, sir." Panties and SoSo were snickering behind their hands. Hulk was trying to point in two different directions at once, and failing miserably.

Shit! I adjusted direction once again. The helmsman nodded.

Finally! "Helm, full speed ahead! Ready...en garde!" I folded my arms in smug satisfaction. There, that ought to show them--Hey, why was everyone laughing? Nobody ever laughed at Captain Petard...

*

The flight deck was a beehive of frenzied activity, as the techs readied Intrepid's full complement of fighters for a magnum launch. The Avengers of Skunk Squadron were already roaring off the deck; they'd soon be followed by the Vindicators and their Banshee escorts.

Zelda greeted me at my fighter. She looked troubled.

"Blairbear, are you sure you know what you're doing? Just two of you against that reinforcement convoy and their fighters?"

I licked two fingers and used them to wipe a dirt spot off her cheek. "It's OK, hon, I have a plan; but I'll need those panties you were wearing that time in our cabin. Can you get 'em for me, sweets?"

"Uh, sure." Good girl. She was curious, but didn't waste time on questions. In an instant, she was off on her errand.

"Sir?"

I turned and found Catnip standing diffidently under my Banshee's port boom. "What's up, Catnip?"

"Well, sir, I just asked Velina to marry me, and she said yes! I was, um, just wondering, sir, if you'd...perform the ceremony when we get back?"

Was that jealousy I was feeling again? Over that neurotic little stick woman? I shook it off. It was probably just the natural effect of the constant strain we were all under.

"Of course, Catnip. I'd be honored. As soon as we finish up in Circe and have a little breather, we can do it on our way to the outbound jump point."

Catnip was elated. "Woohoo! Thank you, sir! Gee, first I get a promotion, then I pull a milk run, and now I'm gonna marry the woman I love! Today sure is my lucky day, isn't it, sir?"

I smiled. Yeah, Catnip was on a lucky streak, all right. Just like Vag--

Uh-oh.

"Er, Catnip, maybe I should assign one or two Banshees to cover you, uh, just in case."

He was indignant. "What are you, my mother? Besides, you know we can't spare the ships." He patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, Ace, I'll be fine." He strolled off toward his Avenger, humming "God Save the King."

Zelda had returned from her errand. "Here you are, Chris, but I wish you'd tell me--Chris?"

Absently, I reached for the panties. "Uh, thanks, Zelda." I gave her a hug and started up the ladder, trying to shake off my misgivings. Dammit, Catnip would be OK. Wouldn't he?

*

Rubberducky was a steady, quiet pilot. He'd flown for the Militia since the last months of the Kilrathi War, so he knew the ropes. He settled on my wing and barely spoke a word thereafter.

As good a wingman as he was, I still missed Panties. I missed her confidence and her courage. It looked like the Union would thwart Covert Ops' plans in Circe, but the long-term outlook was grim. The casualty lists--on both sides--were growing longer, and every day brought us closer to all-out war. I needed Tamara to tell me everything would turn out OK.

We were nearing the projected position of the Confed convoy when my gloomy musings were interrupted by a frantic comm from SoSo.

"Earthworm! Catscratch is in big trouble! He ran across a destroyer, and now he's being chased by fighters. You're the only flight we have near him." SoSo downloaded his position to my nav computer.

I checked the figures and did a double-take. Dammit, what was Catnip doing there? That was well off the track to the canister! I calculated time and distance...Shit! Even if we got to him in time, the convoy would get away! Shit! Shit! But if we didn't rescue Catnip, we could kiss our fresh food good-bye! Shit! Shit! Shit! Er, and the kid, too.

SoSo remained on the comm, pleading. "P-please, sir, save him? Please?"

Rubberducky broke in. "Got a twitch on the passive sensors, Earthworm. Convoy's nearby. Do we abort?"

I had a vision of Intrepid and Willful's fleet fighting their way through two fresh wings of Confed fighters. Even if we succeeded, our casualties would be horrendous...

Shit. "Intrepid, our mission's too important to abort. Vector Lovey's patrol to Catnip's position." I cut SoSo off, lest she argue with me and waste time.

"Changing course for our passive contact, Ducky."v"RUBBERducky!"

"Whatever."

*

I was still second-guessing my decision when Rubberducky sang out.

"Contact! Two...three...FOUR ships! Transports...one frigate. Looks like we got us a convoy!"

"Ten-four, Rubber."

"RubberDUCKY!"

"Whatever."

"Smokies, Earthworm! Four T-bolts inbound! Must be from that frigate."

"Ten-four. Stay close. I'm ready for 'em." I pulled Zelda's panties out of my pocket and prepared to taunt.

The Confed flight leader pre-empted me. "You're nothing but gutter dogs, Border Worlders!"

I nearly gagged. What a pathetic taunt! Somebody better put this jerk out of his misery.

I punched the comm and held up Zelda's panties. "Hey, pencil-dick! Want these back? Your wife sent me yours by mistake! Hahaha!"

Even over the comm, I could see he was livid. "You BASTARD! I'll get you!" He lit his burner and blazed in at me, screaming all the way.

"Break and take bandit 4, Rubberdicky!"

"RubberDUCKY!"

Aim for the leader's wingman, Blair. Leech armed and locking. Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Two IRs inbound from the leader. Steady...Decoy! Pitch up! Hah! Missed! Back on his pal, locking. Jink away from leader's blaster fire...Whoosh! He overshot me by half a light year! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Another IR coming...Leech locked, point blank range, launch! Decoy! Break right! Missed me!

Splat! One down! The leader's still out in left field, where's Ducky? There! He's tailing a T-bolt. Shit, the third one's on my tail! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Burner! Decoy! Still locked! It's closing...Burner off! Decoy! Hard right! Missed, you bastard!

Work around him, Blair. Turn, you beautiful little Banshee! Uh-oh, leader's coming back in; looks like he's settled down.

I took a fraction of a second to check on Ducky; good, he'd disposed of his man. I commed the leader again. I waved Zelda's panties at him and blew him a kiss before switching off. Heehee! He'd never let me go now! I ignored the jerk and concentrated on my victim.

Save your missiles, Blair. Close in with the leech cannon. Watch the rear turret! CHUG CHUG! Jink away from the turret fire! CHUG CHUG! Jink! CHUG CHUG! Jink! Wow, I've got natural rhythm!

"Yer dead now, slime!" Whoops, the leader's on my tail! Come on, Rubber...

Splat! The Confed leader drifted aimlessly.

"Quack quack! Rubberducky rules!"

Quack quack? Sheesh.

My target was slowing. I automatched speeds and continued chugging away until he was helpless. Now for the frigate.

"Form on my wing, Rubbertire!"

"RubberDUCKY! Uh, are you sure we can take four ships ourselves, Earthworm?"

"Piece of cake. Just take your time. Fire and dance, wear 'em down. Let's go."

The frigate's captain interposed his ship between us and the convoy, which was a mistake; we would have had a harder time against the massed laser fire of all four ships. We made repeated runs from the stern, dancing between shots and swooping in and out of range. It was a nerve-wracking business, but my wingman proved as steady as Panties had promised. We dropped the frigate's shields with laser and scattergun fire, then leeched it with missiles and leech cannon.

I led the way toward the transports. "You still game, Rubberballs?"

"RubberDUCK--Oh hell, who cares? Let's nail the bastards!" I took that as an affirmative.

The transports, at least, were smart enough to stick together. Their combined fire was only slightly more formidable than the frigate's, however, and after the first one was leeched, the other two succumbed quickly. Neither of us took more than a few minor armor hits; I even had one leech missile left.

We set course for Intrepid. I signalled BWS Ewok to come and take charge of our prizes until Admiral Willful's fleet could blockade Circe IV. A few weeks in a dockyard, and these Confed ships would be ready to join the Union fleet.

Rubberducky was elated. "Hot damn, sir! Two Banshees taking down a whole convoy! That must be some kind of record!"

I had too much on my mind to answer. All our high-speed maneuvering had eaten into our fuel, and we had no margin for error on the way back. Worse, I was still fretting about Catnip, at least with my head. My stomach, of course, was lamenting the loss of a whole cargo canister full of fresh goodies.

*

All the way back to Intrepid, I listened to reports from Panties' strike force. Fighter opposition was minimal, which was fortunate, because our effectiveness was limited by inexperience and fatigue. Panties got the job done, however. More than half the enemy fleet was left dead in space or proceeding at reduced speed. If they were smart, they'd surrender when Admiral Willful caught up to them.

After the battle, I tuned in on the search and rescue channels. We'd lost several birds to intense capship fire, and all our shuttles were pressed into the recovery effort. About half the pilots were eventually recovered.

Ominously, there was nothing from Lovey. I tried to tell myself that Archie and Valentina were just keeping comm silence, but I knew it was a lie. They were obviously too late to help Catnip.

*

"Request clearance, Intrepid." Come on, SoSo. We gotta get in the barn before our strike returns. "Intrepid? Intrepid!"

SoSo finally appeared on the comm. Her voice was as lifeless as her eyes. "Intrepid here," she said dully. "Lovey relayed a message from Catscratch, Earthworm. Let me play it for you."

Catnip appeared on my screen. The image was breaking up, probably because his Avenger was falling apart around him. His voice, however, was all too clear.

"I didn't do anything, Confeds! I HATE the Union! I'm innocent! They made me do it! OK, I'll talk! I'll spill my guts! I'll sing like a canary! Wait! Do it to Velina! Do it to Velinaaaaahhhhh--" Transmission ceased.

SoSo reappeared. "He went up with his ship, sir. He g-gave everything...Y-you have..." She burst into tears just before my screen blanked.

I felt a lump in my throat. Using all the excuse and evasion techniques he'd learned at the Academy, Catnip had tried until the very end to snatch life from death. He'd failed, but even in failure he had upheld the finest traditions of the fighter pilot. I was so damned proud of him...

*

As I climbed down from my bird, I noted the silent and sullen crowd of techs and crewmen gathered in the bay. Shit, I'd had no idea Catnip was so popular.

Zelda hugged me tightly. "Don't blame yourself, Blairbear," she reassured me. "You made the right call."

I pulled loose. "I know, hon. But that doesn't make me feel any b--"

"Hey, Blair!" called Barr. "Proud of yourself, Mr. big-shot WING Commander?"

"Yeah!" added Louise. "Gonna give yourself a medal for this one?" She spat on the deck.

I took a step toward her. "Look, Lou, I'm sorry about the kid, OK? But--"

"Kid? What kid? I'm talking about that canister full of real food! We're starving here, and you ditch the eats to hit a stupid convoy!"

"Pizza!" wailed Barr. "I heard it was full of pizza! With anchovies!"

"And beer!" This from one of the deckhands.

"And BARBECUE!" chorused three others.

The fever spread like wildfire.

"Pasta!"

"No, sushi!"

"I heard it was fresh fruit!"

"Veggies!"

"Sausage and sauerkraut..."

I gazed upward in supplication. Why me, God? Why me?

End of Chapter 23

Previews from Chapter 24:

"Our top story: The Confederation and the Union stand tonight on the brink of all-out war."

"Now here's my plan..."

"Who is it?"

Chapter 24

Zelda hustled me to the Wombat locker room before the angry crowd turned into a lynch mob. Somehow we got my flight suit off and stowed, and then I clung to her for a long time. I'd lost pilots before, some even closer to me than Catnip, but his death was somehow harder to take. Maybe it was because I had seen a lot of myself in that brash young rookie. Or maybe I was just getting soft.

My dark thoughts were interrupted by the distinctive roar of Vindicator thrusters. That would be Archie and Valentina, returning from their rescue mission. Zelda let me go with a kiss and a reassuring smile, and returned to her work.

I headed for Tina's service bay, ignoring the muttered curses of crewmen I passed along the way. Archie had arrived there before me; I found the two of them locked in an embrace under Tina's bird.

Archie saw me first. "Sorry, sir," he said, over Tina's shoulder. "We looked as long as we could. We barely made it back before our fuel ran out."

Tina let go of Lovey and turned to me. I could see she'd been crying. "W-we found some debris, b-but no pod, sir. He's gone." Archie put his arm around her shoulders.

So much for forlorn hopes. "Did you find out what he was doing so far off course, Lovey?"

Archie just shrugged. "My guess is, he spotted the destroyer at long range and decided to go after it. Probably thought it was a stray from the rebel fleet, with no more fighters aboard. Turns out, though, it was Confed. It must have split off from that convoy you hit, maybe to assist the rebels' retreat to Circe IV. If so, Catscratch put an end to that; last we saw, it was running for the Corinth jump point at full speed."

I nodded. That squared with my what I knew. Catnip had tried to imitate his idol, and had bitten off more than he could chew.

I patted Tina's shoulder. "Thanks for trying, Tina, Arch. I won't forget it. Get some chow and a rest." I glanced at the flight deck, where fighters from our main strike were roaring in for a landing. "I have to debrief those pilots."

I watched Tina and Archie trudging disconsolately toward the Turkey locker room. Damn that Maniac! Would he never grow up? How many more kids would he get killed before he was satisfied?

I turned to go and nearly collided with Maniac. Speak of the devil! So Forceps had finally let him out of sick bay.

"OK, munchkin, this time you've gone too far!" he growled. Wow, I had never seen him so pissed off! Not even that time on Firekka when he'd discovered that his native date was really a male.

He poked his finger into my chest. "I'm gonna get you, runt, but you won't know where or when. Oh, no, I'm gonna take my time and enjoy every moment! From now on, PAL, you're gonna sleep with one eye open! You'll keep looking over your shoulder, but it won't help! You're gonna--"

Enough of this crap! "Oooooo," I said, shuddering in simulated fear. "I'm sooooo scared!" I batted his hand aside and did some poking myself. "I'll tell you what's really going to happen, you big oaf! From now on, you're going to be a model pilot! You're going to obey orders and not go looking for trouble every time you fly! You wanna know why, shit-for-brains?"

Maniac was livid. "Yeah! Yeah, inchworm, tell me why, and then I'll squash you like a bug!"

Oh man, this felt soooo good! "Because if you don't," I said cheerfully, "I'll just take that log of your 'Miss July' mission and upload it to the GGG!"

Maniac turned white. For a second I thought he was going to faint.

I continued relentlessly. "Furthermore, PAL, if anything happens to me or SoSo--if we so much as catch a cold--I've arranged for that log to be uploaded automatically. So whenever we fly together, I suggest you take very, very good care of me!" I reached up and pinched his cheek affectionately. "Y'know, big guy, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship!"

I turned and walked away as if I hadn't a care in the world. Behind me, Maniac realized the hopelessness of his predicament and resigned himself to his fate.

"AAARRRGGGHHH!"

*

I stood uncomfortably at the podium, four empty coffins arrayed in front of me. Of all my new duties as Intrepid's interim captain, conducting funeral services was the one I liked least. Well, better get it over with, Blair.

"We're here to say good-bye to four of our gallant comrades..." As I spoke the all-too-familiar words, I surveyed the ship's company. They were tired and they were discouraged. Our unremitting and seemingly endless campaign on the frontier had worn down their morale as it had worn down mine.

SoSo in particular was taking this latest loss very hard. Standing stiffly between Lou and Maniac, she was valiantly fighting her tears, to no avail. High-strung as she was, I figured she was dangerously close to the edge. Well, maybe a good eulogy would help ease the pain.

I had come to the part of the service where I customarily added my personal remarks. This was my chance.

"Er, ahem. Of these brave pilots, three--Litterbox, Fleabite, and Furball--were relative strangers to me. The fourth, however, was a good friend; a man who personified the ideals they all held dear. In his tragically short career, Catnip lived up to the finest--"

SoSo immediately jumped out of line. "CatSCRATCH!" she shrieked. "It's CatSCRATCH! Can't you at least get it right at his FUNERAL?" Sobbing, she ran toward the nearest exit.

I could only watch helplessly as she fled. Shit. She was right. OK, Blair, no more mistakes. I took a deep breath.

"Sorry, everyone. Er, as I was saying, Catscan lived up to the finest traditions of the fighter pilot..."

*

Dead tired, I stumbled into the storage hold. That memorial service had been the hardest I'd ever attended. I desperately needed to put it behind me and catch some rest before the hostage rescue mission. We only had a few hours before Admiral Willful's fleet arrived to assist.

Damn, no empty bunks near the hatch. Maybe toward the back--Oh shit! I could see candlelight flickering against the rear bulkhead! Hurriedly, I retraced my steps. No way did I want to confront SoSo so soon after the funeral fiasco. I'd had my head bitten off by that woman too many times before.

I checked my watch. It was about time for the Nightly News, anyway. By the time I'd watched Barbara Dahl and had some--ugh--grub, SoSo would probably be gone. Then I could sleep in peace.

The galley crowd was somewhat thinner than usual for a Nightly News broadcast. Perhaps some of the crew, their hopes of fresh food dashed by yours truly, just couldn't face the prospect of the same old Intrepid menu for a while.

I made my usual selections and looked for a seat. Tex and Blade were sitting at a nearby table with Lt. Mourne. They didn't seem to see me when I waved, so I just walked over and sat down.

"Hi, guys," I said cheerfully. "Guess you didn't see me--"

"Er, sorry, sir," said Tex, hastily standing up. "I, uh, have to discuss something with Excell over there." He took his tray to the next table and squeezed in between Excell and Turbo.

Blade clapped his hand to his forehead. "Oh, darn! I just remembered my, er, violin lesson! Yeah, that's it, violin! Gottagosir!" He took his tray and practically ran out of the galley, nearly tripping in his haste.

Bastards.

I turned to September. She squirmed uncomfortably under my gaze.

"Uh, sir, I..."

"It's OK," I said in resignation. "I'm sure you have important business elsewhere. Right, Lieutenant?"

She brightened. "Er, yessir! Thank you, sir!" She quickly got up and moved to Turbo's table.

I looked around the galley. Everywhere, I met only hostile faces. Well, fuck 'em! I bit savagely into my club sandwich and chewed away. If I had it to do over again, I'd do the same damn--Oh, Christ, what was in the damn sandwich? Horseshit?

Gagging, I spat it out onto my tray. I gulped desperately at my coffee to settle my queasy stomach, barely avoiding an eruption. Guts churning, I dropped the sandwich and contemplated it in growing horror. What an idiot I was! Christ, why hadn't I rescued Catnip and the food? Sure, we'd now be facing two new fighter wings, but at least we'd die on full stomachs! I surveyed the empty chairs at my table. Right about then, even I didn't want to eat with me.

I was spared further recriminations, at least temporarily, by the holovid. Barbara Dahl was on with the Nightly News.

"Good evening," she said in her melodious newsanchor cadence. "I'm Barbara Dahl, and this is the TCN Nightly News. Our top story: The Confederation and the Union stand tonight on the brink of all-out war."

A colorful but nearly useless 3-D diagram of the Circe System appeared next to Barbara. "At the peace talks today, both delegations hurled accusations of naked aggression in Circe, where reports indicate a bloody civil war has broken out. The Union accuses the Confederation of engineering a coup on Circe IV, and supporting the attempted capture of Circe V. Confed, on the other hand, says the Union is out to overthrow the legitimate government of Circe IV, which has requested humanitarian aid from the Confederation."

Barbara's voice took on a new note of concern. "The Nightly News has learned that, just moments ago, the Union delegates walked out of the peace talks, claiming that Confederation forces are now directly involved in the fighting. Official spokespersons at the Pink House deny this categorically. However, unnamed sources within the Confederation military say that a number of warships are now being marshalled to rescue Circe IV. If this is true, then the Union and the Confederation could be at war within days."

The Circe diagram was replaced by a map of the region surrounding Circe, with the Corinth System highlighted. "We now bring you a report from correspondent Dam Blather in Corinth, recorded earlier today..."

Damn, damn, damn! Despite all our efforts, it looked like war was inevitable. I had failed...failed. Failed to save both Catnip and the goodies...failed to prevent war...failed to save Angel from a horrible death...

"Is this seat taken, Chris?"

Startled, I looked up. "Tamara! God, are you a sight for sore eyes!" For the moment my despair receded.

Grinning, she set her tray down and sat next to me. Very next to me.

She looked around at the empty chairs. "Gee, Chris, looks like the price of command is eternal loneliness, eh? Heehee!"

I didn't answer. I was too busy enjoying the sensations of having Tamara at my side again. It was just like when she shared my bunk; her touch, her voice, her fragrance--

"Chris? Hello?" She waved her hand in front of my eyes.

"Oh. Sorry, Tamara, I was just, er, worrying about the political situation."

"Really," she said skeptically. "Funny, I was thinking about sharing your bed again...and not just for sleeping this time..."

Something deep inside me responded to her. What had she said about not wasting the time we'd been given? I glanced at the holovid, where Barbara was now talking about the imminent shakedown cruise of the TCS Vesuvius, first in the new line of Confed super-carriers. When that juggernaut came after the Union Militia, time was going to run out very, very quickly.

I gripped Tamara's hand decisively. "Now, hon. Right now. I want you so bad I can taste it."

Her face lit up with surprise and delight. "Well! So much for the political situation!" Then she turned thoughtful. "You know, Chris, this isn't like you. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but up until now your job has always come first."

I stood up, still holding her hand. "This is my job now, hon. Come on." I pulled her up into my arms.

"Are you going to finish that sandwich, Colonel Blair?"

Huh? I turned and found Sergeant McLean behind me. "Er, no, Sergeant. But I wouldn't recommend--"

McLean reached down, scooped up the sandwich, and took a huge bite. Smiling, he tried to talk while chewing. "Mmmmph, thith ith good!"

Panties and I exchanged glances. She raised her hand and circled her finger around her ear.

McLean swallowed and prepared to take another mouthful. "Oh man, this is just great! Usually we have to eat in the Sox comiss--" He looked at Panties. "Er, the Marine mess hall. The food's terrible!" He took another bite. "Mmmm!"

Well, at least that explained why the Marines were among the very few aboard still talking to me. Not that I really cared at the moment. "Uh, if you'll excuse us, McLean, we have--"

He held up his hand while he choked down his food. "Just one more thing. I'm sorry, Colonel, I've tried, but I can't think of a way to get into that base before they execute the hostages. Your chief's pods can get us down OK, but when we blow the entrance, that'll raise the alarm. The guards down in the sublevels will have plenty of time to shoot the prisoners. Sorry."

Shit. Well, I expected as much. All the more reason to forget the war, go with Tamara, and fuck my brains ou--Wait a sec! As I watched McLean devour the remains of the sandwich, an idea grew in my mind. I checked my watch; yeah, SoSo came on duty in about an hour. Until then, I had work to do...

Smiling, I turned to Tamara.

Her face fell. "Uh-oh. Chris, something tells me our date is off."

"I'm afraid so, Tamara. Look, you two, I think I know how to pull off this rescue mission. McLean, assuming you don't have to blow your way in, how many of your people do you need? Can you do it with three?"

He shook his head. "No way. I'm not even sure we can pull it off with six. But, Colonel, how are we supposed to get in? You think they're just going to invite us? Heh heh."

I clapped him on the shoulder. "That's exactly what they're going to do, Fry! Now here's my plan..."

*

I took Panties down to the Control Bay, to get the latest wing status. Even with our recent replacements, it turned out only six Vindicators were flyable. I ordered Panties to work with Hulk on an attack plan that would cover as many rebel bases as possible in the southern hemisphere of Circe IV.

After she left, I contacted Admiral Willful's aide and explained the plan to her. I had to go over it twice, because she was somewhat distracted by the Admiral nibbling on her edible underwear. Before she was dragged away from her comm console, she promised to support our rescue operation with their few remaining Vindicators.

I checked my watch. SoSo would come on duty any minute. Time to meet her in CIC.

*

To my surprise, Lt. G'Neer was still covering SoSo's comm station. SoSo was nowhere to be found. Well, maybe she was just running late.

I tapped Lt. G'Neer on the shoulder. "Ed, while we're waiting for Lt. SoSo, I want to talk to Circe V's SIGINT chief." I knew Circe V had an extensive signals intelligence network; maybe they'd have the data we needed.

A few minutes later I was talking with Brigadier Brigham Brigadoon, head of Circe V Intel operations. "Colonel Blair," he said. "I can't tell you how much your efforts have meant to all of us here in Circe. Well done!"

"Thank you, General. No rest for the weary, I'm afraid. Our next operation depends entirely upon comm traffic from rebel installations on Circe IV. Can you send us all your intercepts for the last three days?"

"No problem, Colonel. Download will commence in a few minutes. I just hope you can separate the wheat from the chaff; it's a hefty chunk of data."

"No sweat, sir. We have a specialist here who can work magic." If she ever shows up, that is. Dammit, where is that woman? "Blair out."

I turned to Lt. G'Neer. "I'm going to see if I can round up our missing lieutenant. As soon as the download is complete, start sorting through it for messages from the hostage base. We may have to do this without SoSo."

He didn't look happy at the prospect. "You'd better find her, sir. No one else on board is even in her league."

*

I finally found SoSo in the galley, standing at the window and staring out at the stars. For one heart-stopping moment, she reminded me of Flint--how long ago that was! But SoSo was not Flint. She was younger and more brittle, and right now she was hurting.

Unobtrusively, I moved next to her. For all her weeping, her cheeks were dry; she had run out of tears long before. My instinct was to comfort her, but, remembering my own pain when I lost Angel, I said nothing. If SoSo had something to say to me, she would say it in her own time.

We stood together in silence for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was bitter. "He went the distance for you. But you wouldn't do the same for him."

"Is that what you really wanted, Lieutenant?" I asked gently. "To sacrificewho-knows-how-many other lives for his? Is that what he would have wanted?"

She met my gaze defiantly. "I don't care about them! I just know he's gone, and it hurts! It hurts so b-bad!" She put one hand over her eyes and turned away.

Damn. She needed time to mourn, to heal, but I couldn't give it to her. Too many lives were at stake. Hating myself for it, I pressed on.

"I lost my lair-mate in the War, Velina. I know how it hurts. But there just isn't time to grieve right now, because we need you in CIC. Desperately."

Eyes still covered, she shook her head. "No. I quit. I've had enough of k-killing. F-find someone else."

As if. "Velina, no one else has your talent with codes. If you don't return to duty, I'll--"

She whirled to confront me, eyes blazing with fury. "You'll what? You'll punish me? What else can you really do to me, you bastard?" She pointed out the window. "He's out there, along with my heart, both nothing more than space dust! People fly through it every day and don't even know it."

I kept my voice even. "I won't have to punish you, Lieutenant. You'll do it for me. As was saying, if you don't return to duty, I'll have to send a lot more Catnips out to die." I swept my arm around the galley. "See these pilots? Without your work so far, how many of us would still be here? How many will die if you quit now? Could you live with that on your conscience?"

My harsh words had wounded her even more deeply than Catnip's loss, if that were possible. Watching her stricken face, I longed to crush her in my arms and tell her everything would be all right.

She looked down at her feet and pleaded, "G-go away. Please."

Damn you, Blair. "I can't go away, SoSo; I'm the Wing Commander." I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me. "And neither can you. Responsibility's a bitch, isn't it? I'll see you in CIC in five minutes, Lieutenant!" I turned and walked away, hating my job--and myself--a little more with every step.

*

Lt. G'Neer and I were still searching the comm intercepts when SoSo walked into CIC. Without so much as a glance at me, she strode up to her comm console and motioned for Lt. G'Neer to leave. Gratefully relinquishing his seat, he left CIC for a well-earned rest.

With practiced ease, SoSo began categorizing the bewildering array of intercept data. "Were you looking for anything in particular...SIR?" she asked coldly.

Brrrr. I shivered as I had in that computer deepfreeze on Orestes IV.

"Find the comm recs from the base where the hostages are held, SoSo. Look for orders from local food vendors--caterers, restaurants, takeout. The base can't feed all those extra mouths with existing facilities, so they must be getting supplies from outside."

"Aye aye, COLONEL! Now go away and let me work!"

OK, OK. Sheesh, what a grouch! I found a chair near the nav console, where Hulk and Panties were plotting attack routes to the numerous militia bases on Circe IV. I tried to follow their planning, but I was so tired that I caught myself nodding off again and again.

As I struggled to stay awake, my thoughts turned to Captain Eisen. How was he faring on his dangerous quest? How long had he been gone? I checked my watch. "Twenty-three hours," I muttered.

Hulk looked up from his work. "Poor Blair. Only ten for Hulk."

"Ten? What are you talking about, Hulk?"

He looked at me as if I were stupid or something. "Ten hours since Hulk have sex, of course."

"What?" I couldn't help myself. What woman would bed big dumb Hulk?

He gave me a knowing smile. "Colonel not believe Hulk? Hulk show." He stood up and unzipped his fly. "Hulk hung like hor--"

"Er, not necessary, Hulk!" I said hastily. "I believe you." Whew! That was close.

More time passed. I was yawning constantly, fighting a losing battle to stay awake. I noticed that Panties, too, was showing signs of fatigue. She was rubbing her eyes, yawning, and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. As I watched, half asleep, she sat up and slowly stretched her arms over her head, arching her back with the sinuous grace of a panther. I imagined the tensing and relaxing of muscles under her uniform...

What the-- She suddenly reached down and took off her footgear. Rising to her (bare) feet, she smiled at me invitingly and reached for her zipper. As her hips began to sway rhythmically, she slowly, slowly pulled the zipper down, never taking her eyes off me.

My heart began beating faster. Coveralls now off her shoulders, Panties began to dance around the confined area of the comm alcove, pausing only to slip her arms out of the sleeves. She stopped in front of me and swiveled her hips until the coveralls fell around her feet. She reached up, pulled the hairpin out of her bun, and shook her head; her chestnut hair tumbled down over her bare shoulders. Resting her hands on my chair, she leaned over me and brushed her hair across my face again and again. I inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the scent.

By now everyone in CIC was watching, entranced. Panties stepped out of her coveralls and resumed her dance. SoSo had piped in a tune with a sensuous, primitive beat, and Panties moved to the music. Dancing over to Hulk, she slipped off her bra and draped it over his grinning face. She dropped to the deck and undulated enticingly, scissoring her legs. Crawling over to me, she slowly stood up, grinding her hips, hands locked behind her neck. Her face glistening, droplets of sweat running between her breasts, delicate body fuzz backlit by the bright image of Circe IV in the nav display, she licked her lips and reached down for her panties...

"Chris? Wake up, Chris."

I opened my eyes. Panties? How did she dress so fast? Oh, shit, it was just a dream!

Panties was leaning over me, grinning. "You should have seen the smile on your face, Chris! What were you dreaming about?"

I had to improvise quickly. "Uh...my farm! Yeah, that's it, I was dreaming about harvest time. Heh heh."

She glanced down at the bulge in my uniform. "Miss your sheep, do you?"

Bitch. "That's not funny, Panties! So, er, how long was I out?"

She straightened up and let me out of the chair. "About an hour. Sosa has some news for you." As I headed for the comm station, Panties pinched my behind.

"Yipe! Er, what did you find, SoSo?" I asked, glaring back at Panties.

SoSo handed me a list. "For once you were right, SIR. Lots of calls to various vendors. However, nearly half went to just one takeout place...here, this one."

Bingo! It was perfect. Thank you, God! "Good work, SoSo. Contact the Admiral. Have him strike these bases in the northern hemisphere in exactly two hours, one fighter per base. I want as many Marines as he can spare standing by in landers, ready to take the hostage base on my signal."

I leaned closer to her and lowered my voice. "Thanks, SoSo. If we can pull this off, we'll save many lives. We couldn't have done it without you."

Her expression didn't change. She just glared at me a few moments, then went back to her work.

Shit.

I found Zelda in one of the service bays, head and torso thrust deep into the main service panel on my Banshee's port engine. From time to time she would pop out to check the diagnostic computer, then plunge back in again to continue her tweaking. When she was finally satisfied, she dogged down the panel, unhooked the computer, and slid down the ladder.

"Oh hi, Blairbear!" she said, smiling. She jerked her thumb back at the ship. "Just giving you another five kps. After my next shift, I think I can even wring a few more out of--"

I wagged my finger at her. "Chief, this has got to stop. You have a full workload already; this moonlighting is coming out of sleep time. Now cut it out."

Zelda threw her arms around my neck playfully and grinned. "Oooo, I love it when you're masterful, grumpy Blair! So, you here for business or pleasure?"

Rats, what could I do? I pulled her cap down over her eyes and pecked her on the cheek. "Business, you scamp. First of all, can we fit two Marines in one of your JONs?"

Zelda let me go and readjusted her cap. "Why two? If you need more troops, just take another ship and more JONs."

"We barely have enough Vindicators to hit half the rebel bases with one each, hon. If we use extra fighters on the hostage base, they'll know something's up."

"OK, dear, lend me your Mc for a minute." She busied herself with the calculations while I enjoyed the pastoral atmosphere of my Mc's hypermedia field.

Zelda shut down the computer, abruptly yanking me back to reality. "Circe IV is about 95% Earth mass. Assuming two average Marines with full gear, a JON can make one soft landing and one takeoff, with a minimal fuel reserve. Life support is OK. It'll be a tight squeeze, though; your Marines better be very, very friendly with each other."

"Good. Now, the second thing I need..." I showed her a holopic of a take outpizzapak from a well-known fast food chain. "Can you whip up half a dozen dummy pizzapaks for me? They have to be exact replicas."

Zelda's mouth watered. "Mmmm, pizza! You going on food patrol?" she asked hopefully. "I haven't had a decent meal in days!"

Neither had I. "What happened to your stash, hon? There was plenty left even after we raided it for our omelette."

She gave me a strange look. "I, uh, used it up...traded it...for some repair work." I waited for more, but she seemed reluctant to add details.

"Traded to whom, Zelda?" I prompted. What was eating her?

She shuffled her feet, avoiding my eye. "The faeries," she mumbled.

I was shocked. "Dammit, Zelda, you know we don't use that epithet anymore! We say 'gays' or--"

She shook her head. "No, dummy! Not 'fairies.' F-A-E-R-I-E-S. REAL ones!"

"Real faeries?" Bemused, I took her gently by the shoulders. "Zelda, hon,you're not making sense. What faeries?"

She took a deep breath. "Look, Blairbear, I know it's hard to believe. I didn't either, at first. But ever since we left Orestes III, my techs have been telling me about leaving food--good stuff, not ship's food--next to some broken-down equipment, then coming back later and finding their gear fixed and the food gone. It seemed crazy, but when the rumors persisted, I decided to try it myself. Remember what your Banshee looked like after that first sitcom mission?"

I flushed, remembering the ribbing I'd taken over that. It was hard to believe that was the same bright shiny machine beside us. "Uh, yeah. I thought we'd have to write it off."

She nodded. "So did I. But I left half my stash in it one night and sealed off the service bay. Next morning, I opened the bay and found your ship as good as new!"

I just stared at her.

"Then I cornered one of the new techs from Orestes III. He didn't want to talk at first, but I finally dragged it out of him. He told me stories from the days of the first human colonists; stories about strange, unseen alien natives; about shadows that came alive when no one was around; not dangerous, but shy and curious. The early colonists would sometimes trade with them: food for services..." She saw my blank expression. "You don't believe me," she said, disappointment evident on her face.

"Huh? Oh. No, Zelda, I do believe you. I was just thinking, this fits with what I've been hearing from SoSo and the ship's engineers. We'll definitely have to look into this 'faeries' business later. Right now, though, I have a mission to prepare."

"OK, Honeyblair. I'll have your props ready in an hour."

*

I rounded up Sergeant McLean and brought him to CIC for the mission briefing. SoSo, Panties, Hulk, and Maniac were already waiting. Maniac was singing to himself again.

"...when it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your--"

"Knock it off, Maniac!" I nodded to SoSo.

SoSo was unusually subdued. Her eyes were red and she looked very tired. Her hand trembled a bit as she fumbled with the remote holodisplay control.

"Admiral Willful's fighters will hit these bases in the northern hemisphere of Circe IV. Their strike is timed to coincide with our own attack on these bases in the south. Colonel Blair will attack the hostage base, suppress its defenses, and drop Sergeant McLean and his team. As soon as they've secured the hostages, the Admiral's Marines will land to guard them from recapture until they're evacuated. The Admiral will then broadcast an appeal for the rebel Militia leaders to lay down their arms."

I reached for the remote. SoSo handed it over without looking at me. I zoomed in on the bunker with the entrance to the hostage quarters.

"Gopher and Skunk Squadrons will cover the operation from orbit. I'll drop the Marines on my last pass over the base. They will then employ a ruse to gain entrance--"

"A what?" interrupted Maniac.

"A ruse," I repeated. Maniac just looked at me blankly. "A stratagem." No response. "A ploy...subterfuge...artifice." Maniac was looking more and more bewildered. "A deception; a TRICK, dammit!"

The light dawned in Maniac's eyes. "Ohhhh, a trick! Why didn't you say so, Ace?"

Why me, God? "Ahem. After entering the--"

"You know," said Panties thoughtfully, "the word 'stratagem' really isn't a good synonym for 'ruse,' Colonel."

I stared at her blankly. "What?"

Hulk was nodding. "Panties right. 'Stratagem' used in context of maneuver in war or gaming, not tricking opponent."

Maniac jumped in enthusiastically. "That's what I say! No wonder I was confused! Now if he had said--"

I threw up my hands. "Fuck the briefing!" I tossed SoSo the remote and took McLean's sleeve. "Come on, Sergeant, let's lock and load."

As we left CIC, Panties was still pontificating.

"Now 'subterfuge,' on the other hand, is a pretty good..."

*

Zelda kissed the tiger emblem on my flight helmet and handed it to me. "Good luck, stud!" she said.

"Thanks, Zelda, but it won't do much good if those damn Marines don't show up pretty--"

A loud clatter behind me in the service bay announced the arrival of our Hollyworld Marines. Shouting "One two three four, I LOVE the Marine Corps!" they jogged over to the Vindicator in full combat gear and lined up in front of the three JONs.

Sergeant McLean stood ramrod-straight in front. "Marine contingent present for--" He paused as Corporal Vanish slithered into place at the end of the line. "--present for duty, sir!"

I wasn't listening. I was staring at Corporal Vanish with my mouth wide open.

Corporal Vanish was definitely NOT dressed for combat. Her hair was teased and lightly sprinkled with glitter. She wore heavy makeup, glitzy earrings, and the longest false eyelashes I had ever seen. A thin black velvet band circled her throat. She was wearing a thin, extremely low-cut, midriff-baring white top, a skin-tight red microskirt, and NO bra. She balanced precariously on five-centimeter stiletto heels.

I don't know how long I would have stood there staring if Zelda hadn't put her fingers under my chin and gently closed my mouth. "Wha? Oh. Ahem! Sergeant McLean, better load your troops."

"Aye aye, sir!" He pivoted to face his five troopers. "At ease! OK, people, we gotta double up in these pods, so it's going to be tight. Corporal Vanish will take the first pod. Now, who wants to go with Vanish?" Four hands shot up. McLean pointed. "OK, Private West."

West stuck out his tongue at his buddies, then leered at Cpl. Vanish. She gave him the finger and continued chewing her bubble gum.

McLean pointed to Wang. "Private Wang, grab those pizzapaks and get into the second pod with Damppuss. Awks, you're with me." Pvt. Damppuss didn't seem very happy with her partner, but she grudgingly climbed into the pod.

As the pods were being sealed and loaded on my ship, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, and there was Panties in her flight suit.

"Panties, you should be out there with Gopher Squadron!"

She smiled. "Excell's taking the Gophers today so I can fly your wing. Don't worry, Earthworm, I'm Vindicator-qualified."

I glanced nervously at Zelda. She, in turn, looked suspiciously at Panties. My legs suddenly felt weak.

"Well, let's go, then!" I said with false enthusiasm. Anything to get those two away from each other.

*

As we neared the final off-planet nav point, I commed my pilots one last time. "OK, everybody. We want the rebels to think we're just softening up their bases for an invasion. Let's make it look good."

We split up and plunged into the atmosphere. I was carrying three leech missiles in case we met fighter opposition, but I saw nothing on my scope. It seemed Captain Apton's intelligence was correct. I concentrated on my run, balancing skin temperature against the need for haste.

I took an indirect route to my target, flying at high speed and extremely low altitude. When enemy sensor emissions neared detection threshold, I popped up and armed my IRs.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Missile turret! Lock IR! Launch! Bam! Bam! Laser fire! Jink! Decoy! Missile approaching...pull up! Hah! Missed! Kaboom! Missile turret gone! Yessss!

I zoomed over the base and turned for another run. Shields were holding. Now for the laser turrets!

I could have taken out a couple with my remaining IRs, but I just LOVED the sound of the Vindicator's tachyon guns! Besides, when I took out the base's sensors, I had to make it look like accidental overshooting.

Screech! Screech! Screech! Eat tachyons, rebel scum! Laser turret and main sensor array destroyed. Next pass. Screech! Screech! Another turret. Laser fire diminishing.

It took me two more passes to take out all the lasers and sensors. Smoke from the fires was billowing across the base, coaxed along by a gentle breeze. I switched to stormfires and started my final pass.

Over the base, I strafed installations and bare ground alike, throwing dirt and dust far up into the air. As I approached the target bunker, I slowed momentarily and salvoed the three JONs before continuing on. With all the dust and smoke in the air, it was unlikely they'd be spotted.

I zoomed off as if heading for a secondary target. When I was out of visual range, however, I slowed and orbited in place. I switched my comm system to Sgt. McLean's helmet microcam. If something went wrong, I'd have to attempt a rescue pronto.

I could hear McLean clearly. "Earthworm! Down safely, twenty meters from bunker. Approaching now." In the bouncing image from his cam, I could see the Marines advancing in a creditable combat spread. I would have been more impressed, however, if Awks hadn't tripped over his feet and gone sprawling.

At the bunker, the armed Marines flattened against the wall. Carefully balancing on her high heels, Cpl. Vanish minced past them, pushing a grav sled loaded with dummy pizzapaks. She paused a moment at the entrance to straighten her clothing and plump up her bosom before pushing the doorbell.

Seconds passed before a muffled voice answered from inside. "Who is it?"

"Pizza Slut!" replied Vanish.

There was a longer pause, during which the rebels must have been conferring. No doubt they were also examining her via hidden holocam. Finally, the muffled voice said, "We didn't order anything!"

"Are you sure?" asked Vanish enticingly. She leaned over the pizzapaks—no doubt revealing considerable cleavage--and sniffed. "Mmmm, it smells soooo good! It's nice and hot, boys!" She straightened up, licked her fingers, and thrust them under her top. Circling them languidly beneath the fabric, she closed her eyes and added breathlessly, "And so am I!"

The door began sliding open. Vanish quickly pushed the grav sled out of the way, raised her skirt, and snatched her hidden stun pistol. As the guards emerged, she took them out with rapid fire. The other Marines rushed to he raid and piled in through the entrance. I lost the holocam signal when McLean entered the bunker.

I quickly switched to the Marine lander channel. "Pepperoni to go!" I yelled. "Repeat: Pepperoni to go!" I hit the throttle and burned for the base. I had to keep rebel troops away from the bunker until the real Marines arrived.

*

As it turned out, I wasn't needed for several minutes. By the time the rebels made their first attempt to retake the bunker, Panties had arrived to help me beat them off. For the second attack, they scraped up a number of portable missile launchers, forcing us to keep our distance. A battalion of Willful's Union Marines had already landed, however, and they overran the rebels before they could reach the bunker. Now if only McLean had saved the hostages...

McLean's weary face appeared on my comm screen. "Mission accomplished, boss. No casualties. Uh, OK if we go back on the landers, sir? Those JONs are a pretty tight fit."

Whew! Our thespians had pulled off another miracle. "Good work, Sergeant. See you back on the--"

I was interrupted by a top priority message from Intrepid. SoSo appeared on the comm, looking agitated. "Sir! Sir! Therebelshavejustsurrendered!"

"Surrendered? Hey, that's good--"

SoSo cut me off impatiently. "There's more, sir! I just decrypted a signal from a cloaked Covert Ops transport. They were about to deliver some prototype fighters when they got the news. Now they're heading home. Sir, they're only half an hour from you!"

My mind raced. Maybe the "prototypes" were Bearcats, or even some of those mysterious gray fighters I'd seen on the Kilrathi guncam rec! We couldn't pass up a chance, however slim, to get our hands on some. Hmmm, if we did, it would be best to keep it from Covert Ops.

"SoSo! Have you notified the flagship?"

"Hey, gimme a break! I just decoded--"

"Good! Don't! Don't tell ANYONE!" If Paladin was right, and there were conspirators on Willful's staff, I didn't want them knowing we had their secret weapon.

I switched to my wingman channel. "McLean! Put on your enviro suits, get into those JONs, and launch ASAP! Panties, form on my wing!" Our mission wasn't over yet.

*

We were nearing the projected position of the Covert Ops transport when Panties commed me.

"Earthworm, I assume you have a plan, right? Or do you expect to stumble on them by blind luck?"

I was insulted. "Hey! I ALWAYS have a plan, Panties! You'll see." Except that my plan depended on rebel IFF codes I didn't have. I breathed a silent prayer. Please God, let SoSo find the codes. OK? Please?

"Intrepid to Earthworm! Colonel Blair?"

SoSo! "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"I just decrypted some rebel IFF codes from Circe V's comm intercepts." Yesss! Thank you, God! "Shall I download them to you?"

Oh, Christ. "No, Lieutenant, I'd rather go in without 'em and get my ass shotoff! Just send us the damn codes, OK?" Sheesh. I admired Border Worlders fortheir ingenuity, their independence, and above all their loyalty, but sometimesthey could be SO dense!

"Well you don't have to bite my head off! Downloading now."

When Panties and I had switched our transponders to the new codes, I changed to the general comm channel. "Circe IV flight to transport Raven. We've escaped with three Directorate members. Request asylum. Calling transport Raven..."

Minutes passed without a response. Would they take the bait? Maybe they were preparing an ambush--

"Raven here. IFF codes match. Stand by, Circe scum. Decloaking." Three contacts appeared on my scope about a hundred thousand klicks ahead. The two fighter signatures were unfamiliar. Yeah, mystery fighters, all right. From the Kilrathi guncam rec, I knew they were much faster than the Vindicator, and now I'd seen that they could cloak, too. Damn, what else could they do?

"Panties, stand by to leech bandit 2 on my order. Marines, prepare for launch. Meanwhile, let's play friendly."

"Another ruse, eh?" Panties replied nervously. These fighters obviously had my wingman on edge, too.

As soon as I was in range, I acquired passive lock on bandit 1. I wanted to get closer before firing, however, lest my target cloak while the missile was still inbound.

I got a comm from the transport. The guy had the same cookie-cutter features as the fake Marines on the Lexington. He didn't bother hiding his contempt for what he thought were Circe IV rebel leaders.

"So, Circe subhumans. You fail miserably in your task, and now you beg for rescue. Well, I daresay our Leader can find some small use for--" His eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute! You're the guy from--"

I cut him off. Damn damn! "SHOOT, Panties!" I yelled. I launched my own leech at close range. Splat! Strange, my target should show zero power, but the readings were fluctuating. No matter. I wrenched my Vindicator around at the transport. I launched two IRs from the beam and blasted away with tachyon guns. Screech! Screech! Subhuman, am I?

Splat! Panties' target was out of action. "Score one for the good guys! Hang on, Earthworm!"

Just in time! I was bobbing and weaving, but my shields were weakening from uncannily accurate laser fire. Screech! Screech! Would those shields never drop?

Wham! Screech! Screech! Yahoo, Panties was hitting, too! Oh, shit, the transport was cloaking! "Leech cannon, Panties!"

The transport cloaked successfully, but Panties and I double-teamed it as if we were telepathically linked. I illuminated the target with my lasers while Panties chugged away with leech cannon. We followed it through two ninety-degree turns until it finally lost power and reappeared.

Recalling Zelda's warning that the JONs would be nearly out of fuel, I got as close as I could before launching the Marines. It would take several minutes for our thespians to take the ship--if they could even pull it off--so I took the opportunity to scan one of the leeched fighters.

Boy, this baby was a real beauty. Energy readings indicated a huge powerplant and--Energy readings? Jesus Christ, HE WAS AUTOREPAIRING!

In a panic, I blazed away with tachyon guns. Screech screech screech! Kaboom! Just in time! Damn, was there anything that fighter couldn't do?

"Panties! Watch out for--" Kaboom! Panties had discovered the danger at the same time and dealt with it. God, I loved that woman!

"Score one--Shit! More bad guys, Earthworm!"

Uh-oh! Two mystery fighters at max sensor range. "Form on my wing, Panties! "As we turned to intercept, my stomach knotted with fear. Who was I kidding? We were no match for these super ships! They could fly rings around our clumsy Vindicators. The enemy pilots were so confident, in fact, that they weren't bothering to cloak. I couldn't blame them.

Panties knew the odds as well as I. "If you have another ruse up your sleeve,Earthworm, you'd better use it fast!"

I thought furiously. My repertoire of taunts would be useless against these arrogant bas-- Arrogant! And they called us subhumans! These guys must be products of the G.E.D. Program! Hmmm...

"Panties! Keep mum, I got an idea." I switched to the general channel and waited.

As I expected, my opponents couldn't wait to flaunt their superiority. The lead fighter commed me at long range.

"Die, inferior, by the guns of the Black Lance!"

I stayed silent.

"Your pathetic efforts will avail you naught, mongrel!"

I said nothing.

"So, mental midget, you fear to trade taunts with your superiors?"

That was my cue. In my best Pat Morita accent I replied, "Moment, prease. Consulting dictionelly...Ah so. Ahem. You, Brack Rance-san, am intercoursing offspling of sibrings, and have velly nallow clanium. Hah!"

"Huh?" He had to think that one over. "Ohhhhh, you're saying I'm a fucking inbred pinhead, right?" No doubt the arrogant bastard was proud of himself for decrypting my pidgin Terran.

OK, Blair, now play him. "Solly, what you say, honable Brack Rance?"

"You said, I'm a fucking inbred pinhead!"

"No savvy. You what, prease?"

"I'm a fucking inbred pinhead, you moron! I'M A FUCKING INBRED PINHEAD!!"

I couldn't stand it any more. "You sure are, mutant! Bwahahahaha!"

It took Einstein a few moments to realize he'd just taunted himself.

"Wha...Aaarrrggghhh!"

"Idiot!" screamed his wingman. "You're a disgrace to the master race! Die, you genetic jackass!"

Jesus Christ, the two of them were suddenly going at it like blood enemies! As they blasted each other with tachyon guns and missiles, I slowed and moved to within a few meters of Panties' ship. Staring at me in disbelief, she jerked her thumb in the general direction of the battling purebreds. I could only shrug in reply. A little ego was a dangerous thing.

After dishing out and absorbing an incredible amount of punishment, the two Black Lance fighters were little more than flying wrecks. Panties and I put them out of their misery and tractored in the two escape pods. By then a flight of Intrepid's Banshees had arrived, and our Marines, thank God, had taken the transport. Panties and I set course for home.

*

On the comm, SoSo was still subdued. "Congratulations, Earthworm," she said in a monotone. "Chief Morgenstern and some of the engineers are shuttling out to bring back that transport's cargo. No indications of other ships in the area."

Hmmm. Then the transport was alone. Shit, those Black Lance fighters must have come from millions of klicks away, perhaps even another star system. They must have incredible range! "SoSo, notify the flagship that we've destroyed an unidentified transport and several fighters of an unknown type. No survivors." That should preserve our little secret.

"Roger, Earthworm. You have clearance."

"Thanks, Lieutenant." The words were so inadequate. Despite her pain, she'd performed brilliantly. "Look, SoSo, you saved thousands of lives today. Catnip would have been proud of you. I know I am."

For just a moment her eyes twinkled, but then they hardened again. "Would he,sir? How could you know? He's DEAD!" She broke the connection.

Shit.

*

I made it down the ladder OK, but when I tried to walk to the ready room, I had to pause and hang on to the Vindicator's port landing gear. The euphoria of our success had worn off, and now I just felt worn out. God, would this nightmare never end?

My spirits revived somewhat when I spotted Panties on her way to my ship. She stopped beside me and put her hands on her hips. "Chris, I thought I'd seen it all, but today takes the cake. We should have died out there. I just wonder how much longer you're gonna get away with that shit."

She wasn't the only one. "Hey, I'm the Wing Commander," I boasted. "I do 'that shit' every day." I tried to emphasize the point by standing up on my wobbly legs and nearly collapsed.

Panties steadied me and draped my arm over her shoulder. Tired though I was, her touch sent a tingle through me. "Easy, Chris. Let me help you to bed. "She gave me a look that made me shiver. "I believe we have unfinished--"

Lt. G'Neer yelled at me from the service bay hatch. "Colonel! Urgent message from Admiral Willful, sir! Lieutenant Sosa sent me to fetch you."

Panties's stricken expression mirrored my own. Like automatons, we shuffled after Lt. G'Neer.

Damn.

End of Chapter 24

Previews from Chapter 25:

"Help us! In the name of humanity, HELP us!

"We're mentally and genetically conditioned to defeat torture or drugs! Do your worst, you diseased dwarf!"

"I have a very bad feeling about this one, my darling."

"Colonel, help me! Oh God, help me, help me--aaaaahhhhh!"

Chapter 25

I barged into CIC in a black mood. That damn Willful wouldn't rest until he got us all killed. If this was another suicide mission...

Hulk and Maniac were already there; Maniac was singing to himself again. SoSo was standing in front of the briefing table, remote in hand. I turned to face the main display, intending to give the Admiral a piece of my mind. I stopped short, however, when I saw the state he was in. Behind me, Panties gasped in shock.

The transmission was coming from the flagship's sick bay. Vice-Admiral Willful was lying in bed, tubes stuck in his arms, up his nose, and in unseen location sunder the covers. I couldn't see his face very well behind the oxygen mask, but he was pale and noticeably thinner. A pretty nurse--not the one I'd seen last time--was working at the med console on the far side of the bed.

When the Admiral saw me, he reached for the bed control and raised himself to a thirty degree angle. He pulled the mask off his face and coughed a couple of times to clear his throat. When he spoke, his voice was weak and hoarse.

"Ah, the Eye of the Tiger. Excellent work with the hostages."

"Thank you, Admiral, but it's HEART of--"

The Admiral had a sudden coughing fit. He motioned to his nurse, who handed him a small plastic cup containing a clear liquid. Willful downed it in one gulp and sighed in satisfaction. "Ahhhh. Vodka! Thanks, honey!"

Looking a bit more perky, the Admiral resumed our conversation. "I called you, Blair, because something terrible has apparently happened in the Telefon System. This distress signal was sent two days ago; it took that long to relay it here." He nodded to someone outside the holoview.

The Admiral's image was replaced by a view of a short-haired, somewhat frumpy-looking woman. She was extremely agitated, almost hysterical.

"Can anyone hear me?" she cried. "This is Planet 36-24-36 in the Telefon System! We're under attack by unknown forces--" The trans faded into static for a moment, then resumed as the woman fiddled frantically with the comm controls. "I don't even know if I'm using this thing right... We're a small agricultural colony; we have no defense against these things! Canisters are falling...people dropping like flies..." Her face twisted with pain and she doubled over out of view of the holocam.

Canisters? Dropping like flies? I thought of Locanda IV, where the Kilrathi had "demonstrated" their ultimate bioweapon, and my flesh crawled.

In the display, the Telefon woman was painfully pulling herself back up into view, her sweating face contorted with the effort. "Help us!" she cried in anguish. "In the name of humanity, HELP us! We--" She suddenly looked to her right, terror on her face. I heard the unmistakable screech of tachyon fire and the rumble of explosions. The display went blank.

"Goddamn cats!" exclaimed Maniac. "Using their bioweapons again! That double-crossing Malloc--"

Fast as lightning, Hulk grabbed Maniac by the front of his uniform and lifted him off the deck. "Melek Hulk friend!" he roared. "MELEK NOT DO THIS!"

Terrorstricken, Maniac could only whimper inarticulately as dampness began to spread across the front of his trousers. Satisfied that Maniac had gotten the point, Hulk set him down safely. Snickering, SoSo tossed Maniac a clipboard, which he immediately clasped in front of him.

The holodisplay cut back to the sick bay, where Admiral Willful was struggling with another of his nurses. He had his hand way up under her microskirt and refused to let go, despite the blows she was raining on him.

"Ow! Sorry, honey," he protested, "but--Ow!--I'm stuck! Ow! Oh, Blair!" He released the nurse and lay back in bed. He coughed a few times before he could continue.

"I know you're all exhausted, Blair, so I'm leaving this up to you. Telefon is on the Union frontier, so remote that its planets are still known by their original discovery coordinates. It's part of the Union of Border Worlds, however, and the Union believes in equal protection for all member worlds, no matter how fucking stupid the people are to live so far from civilization, or how insignificant their petty little world, or how damn much it costs us to defend their hick asses, or--"

"Uh, I get the picture, Admiral!" Sheesh. "Let me check with my people." I turned away from the holodisplay.

I looked first at SoSo, whose face was a wordless plea. I nodded, and turned next to Hulk.

Hulk, not surprisingly, was another matter. "Hulk tell Blair, Telefon too far! Danger here. We stay, protect Union worlds from Confed."

"Hulk, you moron!" yelled Panties. "They're Border Worlders like us! Besides, we have to find out what hit them! It may be a new weapon!"

That got Hulk's dander up. "Hulk not moron! Maybe Telefon diversion, lure us from real target! Panties ignorant slut!"

"WHAT?" Enraged, Panties delivered a vicious kick to Hulk's groin.

Hulk didn't so much as bat an eye. Eyes smoldering, he advanced slowly on Panties, who backed away warily.

Damn those two! I got in front of Hulk and tried vainly to push him back. "Hulk!" I said desperately. "Think for a second! If they used a bioweapon, it might also affect other life forms...like rabbits!"

Thunderstruck, Hulk stopped in his tracks. "Rabbits? Bunnies? Blair, we go Telefon now! OK?"

I reached up and patted the now-docile giant on his shoulder. "OK, big guy! "Skipping over Maniac, I addressed the Admiral again. "Admiral, it's settled. We'll leave as soon as we load the new--" Oops, don't tell him about the fighters! "--er, our new THX sound system."

The Admiral stuck a cigar in his mouth and smiled. "OK. Good luck, Blair! Willful out!" Forgetting the oxygen mask still around his neck, he reached for his lighter.

The nurse at the console screamed and lunged for the lighter. "NO, Admiral! Oxygen--"

There was a bright flash and the display blanked.

Oh, shit! "SoSo, try to contact the flag--"

Hulk suddenly moaned in pain. Clutching his crotch, he pitched forward onto the deck. Wearing a satisfied smile, Panties made a gun of her thumb and forefinger, blew on the end of the "barrel," and stuck it in an imaginary holster. Then she swaggered out of CIC.

I sighed in exasperation. "Never mind, SoSo. Get Forceps here, instead." I knelt by the moaning Hulk, my own nether regions tingling in sympathy. I definitely had to put a stop to these shennanigans before somebody got hurt.

"Hey, Ace!" exclaimed Maniac. "I didn't know we were getting THX sound!"

Why me, God?

*

I stuck around CIC to plan for our expedition to Telefon. Under peacetime safety regs, it was a three-jump, two-day trip. After consulting with our engineers, I decided to take the alternate two-jump route, which entailed a dangerously long second hop, but shaved a day off the voyage. The task force's engineering departments immediately began re-tuning the ships' jump engines for maximum performance.

Meanwhile, I pondered the meaning of the mysterious attack on Planet 36-24-36. I had no doubt it was done by Covert Ops or their surrogates, the Black Lance, but what could they possibly gain by striking a worthless little colony on the edge of nowhere?

I pounded the nav console in frustration. Damn, if only I had more data! Once Zelda got back with the Marines and our Black Lance prisoners, by God, I'd interrogate those S.O.B.s within a millimeter of their lives!

*

The next thing I knew, Lt. Pilotte was shaking me. "Sir? Wake up, sir."

I looked around blankly for a moment. Shit, I had fallen asleep at the nav console again. Yet, as I stood up and stretched my cramped muscles, I had to admit the nap had done me a world of good.

"Sir," she continued, "Chief Morgenstern is back. The new fighters have been transferred. Our escorts are alerted. We can leave any time."

"Oh. OK." Now I knew why Captain Eisen was always complaining about being left out of the loop. "Very well. Lt. SoSo, notify our escorts: Conform to our movements." I adjusted my uniform and struck a dramatic pose, arm flung out toward the bow. "Helm, full speed to Telefon! Ready... En g--"

Noting Skye's smirk, I caught myself. Smiling ruefully, I relaxed and patted her shoulder. "Just get us to Telefon, Skye. OK?"

She grinned back. "Aye aye...Captain!"

*

I was eager to see the mysterious Black Lance fighters close up, so I headed straight for the flight deck. At the bottom of the stairs from the Control Bay, I ran into Sgt. McLean.

"McLean!" I hailed. "Hey, great work saving those hostages. Any trouble?"

He grinned. "No, sir! Corporal Vanish took out all the guards up top with her first burst. The ones on the sublevels weren't expecting trouble, so we got 'em easily. Lieutenant Sosa was right, sir: the trash bins were stuffed with Pizza Slut takeout paks and used condoms."

Yeah, SoSo had come through for us, all right. I'd left her an emotional wreck, but the end justifed the means. Right? Right?

"No food, though," continued McLean sadly. "We had to leave, anyway, to get that transport. Now that's where we ran into trouble! We blew the security module on the aft airlock, got inside, and took off our enviro suits. But as we made our way forward, we were pinned down in the crew's lounge. Man, those Black Lancers can really shoot!"

No kidding. If I'd known he was up against supermen, I never would've let him attack the transport. "So how did you take 'em down, Fry? Corporal Vanish again?" I nudged him and winked.

McLean was outraged. "Certainly not, sir! You see, I spotted all these holovid mags and entertainment trade pubs in the lounge, and I figured at least some of these guys were aspiring actors. And I KNOW what that's like! So I yelled out, 'I know Spieven Steelburg!' Well, those morons all jumped up and starting begging for auditions--"

"Steelburg?" I grabbed McLean's lapels with the strength of a madman. "YOU KNOW SPIEVEN STEELBURG?" Damn, who could tell where my career would have gone if I'd had Steelburg instead of Lu--

"No, I don't!" cried McLean, desperately tugging at my arms. "It was just a ruse! A ploy! A stratagem!"

My hopes dashed, I released McLean. Damn, I never got a break!

Watching me warily, McLean continued his story. "Uh, anyway, sir, we captured the crew and the four pilots you shot down. Where do you want them?" He pointed to the line of prisoners, guarded by his vigilant Marines.

I walked up to the first one and brutally tore off his blindfold and the tape over his mouth. Despite his predicament, the prisoner was unafraid.

"You primitive Border World scum!" he snarled. "We won't talk! We're mentally and genetically conditioned to resist torture or drugs! Do your worst, you diseased dwarf!

Dwarf? DWARF? "Sgt. McLean!" I barked. "Take our guests to the Skunk ready room. Tie them to the seats and remove their blindfolds. We'll see just how tough they are!"

McLean looked at me and shivered. "Uh, aye aye, sir! OK, Marines, let's move 'em out!"

I turned to go. I had a plan, of course, but first I had to find--

"Blairbear!" Zelda appeared out of nowhere and pounced on me joyously. I backpedaled, trying to balance her weight, as she covered me with kisses. She finished with a hug that squeezed the breath out of me and said, "Thank you, thank you for the wonderful presents, Chris!"

I set her down and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at my new wounds. "What presents, hon?"

Zelda pointed to a row of ten huge cargo containers arranged along the port side of the flight deck. A number of techs were tearing down the first one, from which the outline of a sleek gray fighter was emerging. Plastic packing peanuts were piled all over the place.

"Oh, you mean the Black Lance fighters. Well, you can thank our Marines for those, Chief."

She frowned. "Speaking of the Marines, what were they doing in my JONs? I found used condoms in all three of them!"

All three? Then McLean and Awks... "Er, you know Marines, hon. Heh heh."

"Yeah? Well let 'em clean their own JONs next time! Anyway, come on, Chris, I want to show you my new toys!"

I allowed Zelda to drag me toward the first fighter, which was now fully unpacked and swarming with techs. A close-range look at the strange machine only reinforced my earlier impression of massive, menacing power. I shuddered involuntarily; only my spur-of-the-moment taunt had saved me from dying under the guns of a fighter like this.

Tech Barr was exploring a compartment in the belly of the beast. "Hey!" he yelled excitedly. "Look what I found!" He dragged out a huge metallic disk with a rounded top surface. It looked like a larger version of the pizzapaks Zelda had prepared for our Circe IV mission.

Maniac, who had been standing nearby looking bored, suddenly sprang to life."Pizza!" he yelled. "Hot damn!" He joined the mob of starving techs, pilots,and deckhands descending on the tool chest where Barr had set the pizzapak.

Funny, there was something very familiar--and vaguely menacing--about that pak. Now where did I see...

"By the way, Chris," said Zelda casually, her eyes still on the fighter. "Is there something between you and Colonel Farnsworth?"

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Danger, Blair! I turned to my crew chief. "Why, Zelda! What ever gave you--" I stopped. No, she deserved the truth, whatever the consequences for me. I had a sudden vision of a wrench crushing two eggs.

"Zelda, the truth is, I love both of you." I was distracted by activity around the pizzapak. Unable to open it manually, the techs were now using a hammer and chisel on it. "Uh, I'm, uh, sorry, hon, you deserve better from me. "Damn, something about that pizzapak was nagging at the back of my mind.

Though her eyes were brimming with tears, Zelda bravely forced a smile. "I do, Blairbear," she said. "But I understand. Tamara's q-quite a woman."

Barr was now attacking the pizzapak with a sledgehammer, to no avail. "Hang on," he said to the eager onlookers. "Let me get a laser torch."

I felt like I was trying to watch a three-ring circus. "Uh, you're quite a woman, too, Zelda." The Annabel Lee! A pizzapak just like this one was drifting near the lifeless hulk of the Annabel Lee! Well, so what? "You're very, uh, precious to me, hon, but so is Tamara, in, uh, a different..."

"This oughta do it!" declared Barr, as he returned with the torch.

"She reminds you of Angel, d-doesn't she, Chris?" stammered Zelda.

"Angel who?" I tore my eyes away from the torch. "Oh, Angel! Um, so do you, Zelda, I mean, your loyalty and, uh, dedication." Zelda was so understanding! I reached for her...

Barr was just about to begin cutting when a deckhand stopped him. "Hey, Fern," he said. "What's this little button here on top?"

I held Zelda close to me, but my mind was wandering. Wait! The Kilrathi transport! That tumbling object...round and flattish...of course! A pizzapak! Jesus Christ! This "pizzapak" was a tickle bomb!

Barr was reaching for the button...

I shoved Zelda behind me and screamed, "Fern, NOOOOO!"

TOO LATE! Barr had pressed the button!

Everything was happening in slow motion. The tickle bomb began to vibrate faster and faster, until it was just a blur. Suddenly wary, the hungry crowd began to edge back. I could only stand transfixed, praying that someone would pop an airlock and grant us a quick, easy death. My skin began to tingle--

POOF! The bomb popped open like a clamshell, releasing a cloud of steam! Inside I could just make out the sinister shape of...

A huge, mouth-watering Pizza Slut "Cosmic Combo" pizza!

"Yahoo! Pizza!" A feeding frenzy broke out as the ravenous mob pounced on the pizzapak.

As my panic receded, I suddenly realized that Zelda was cradling me in her arms like a baby. She stared at me as if I were insane.

Sheepishly, I climbed down. At least I hadn't wet myself this time.

Zelda put her hand on my forehead. "Are you all right, Blairbear?" she asked with concern. "You look like someone just walked on your grave."

I had to concentrate to keep my wobbly knees from giving way. "Uh, yeah, heh heh. My grave. That's a good one. Heh heh." I used my handkerchief to wipe my moist forehead. "Er, sorry to run, Zelda, but I gotta go interrogate our prisoners."

Zelda looked down at her feet. "Um, look, Chris," she said in a small voice. "If you... If you need me to make them talk... I mean, it's OK. I don't mind...really."

What a woman! I hugged her fiercely. "Zelda, I am so sorry for using you like that! I'll never, ever put you through that again!" We pulled apart. "Besides," I said mysteriously, "I have a plan."

She looked at me with adoration. "That's my Blairbear! OK, I gotta get to work on these babies." She handed me a data cartridge. "Here. They came complete with manuals. Study them before you even think about getting in one." Rubbing her hands with anticipation, she strode off toward the nearest fighter.

I sighed. It seemed I'd been replaced in her affections, at least temporarily. Hmph! Techs! I plunged into the crowd of pizza-munchers, looking for Maniac.

Maniac was standing a few meters from the now-empty pizzapak, a half-eaten slice of pizza in each hand. Melted cheese and toppings oozed over his wrists, and tomato sauce ran down his chin. Though his mouth was already overflowing, he nevertheless continued to stuff anchovy ambrosia into his face.

He grinned at me. "Fi, Afe! Mmmm! Mfth ith ood! Wan' thum?" He held out one of his prizes.

I had to pass; my stomach was still vigorously practicing Boy Scout knots. "No thanks. I just thought you might want to talk to our Black Lance prisoners."

Maniac took another huge bite and nodded. Food usually put him in a good mood. "Oh-ay! Wha' ood I thay?"

I assumed a serious tone. "Maniac, these 'supermen' think we're scum, subhuman scum. I want you to show them what we're REALLY made of! Tell 'em some of your stories--tell 'em ALL your stories! Major, I want you to put the fear of MANIAC into 'em!"

Bursting with pride, Maniac jumped to attention and saluted me, forgetting the pizza in his hand. I barely managed to keep a straight face until I was out of sight.

*

We had about two hours until the first jump. I spent the time in CIC, playing ship's captain and examining the Black Lance fighter manuals. Fascinating though they were, I still found time to worry about SoSo. She was driving herself relentlessly, probably trying to bury her grief in work. I finally ordered her to sick bay for a sedative and a rest; she was no good to me or herself in her present state.

The LV-426 System, our intermediate destination, had been uninhabited since the first colony was mysteriously wiped out fifty-six years ago. Nevertheless, I had the wing on fifty percent alert for the jump; for all we knew, Telefon's attackers might be returning our way.

When our sensor scans came up negative, I set course for the next jump point and turned the watch over to Lt. Cmdr. Ander. Now that I knew the Black Lance fighters on paper, I was anxious to make their acquaintance in person.

*

I checked in at the Control Bay first, then took the stairs down to the flight deck. On the way to my usual service bay, I passed some off-duty techs playing frisbee with the empty Black Lance pizzapak.

My trusty little Banshee was no longer in the bay; in its place was one of the Black Lance fighters. Up close, it was breathtaking; the raised wings, angular features, and jutting nose all contributed to the air of menace. The winking smiley face insignia on the wings seemed incongruous until I got closer and read the fine print: HAVE A NICE DEATH. Whoa!

I found Zelda on the other side of the fighter, working on a remote control unit. She greeted me with a smile. "So, you do your homework, snookums?"

I took the data cartridge out of my pocket and handed it to her. "It's called a Dragon. Max speed 500 kps, 1200 on burner. Power plant's matter-antimatter, giving it nearly unlimited range, long-duration afterburn, and a capship ion signature. That explains the ion trails I found near the Annabel Lee, and why we couldn't catch the perpetrators."

"Very good. What else?"

"Maneuverability about like the Excalibur. Armor rated at 300, shields at 500. Armament is two tachyons--Yes!--two plasmas, and two big fucking fusion guns, ten missiles, and two torpedoes. It has the latest electronics, an AI so advanced that its controls are the simplest of any fighter, and leech-proof autorepair. It's jump-capable, cloak-capable, and one mean motherfucker!"

Zelda beamed. "A-plus, Honeyblair! Any questions?"

"Yeah. There's no mention of a tickle weapon. On Melek's guncam vid, it looks like the bomb is launched from the ventral compartment, but on the specs that space is only for small cargo or extra decoys."

Zelda nodded. "Must be a retrofit. And that's not the only thing missing from the specs." She pointed her remote at the Dragon. "Now watch this, sweetness."

She clicked a button, causing the Dragon's landing gear to retract part way, and lowering the fuselage until the belly was barely five centimeters off the deck. The sleek, low-slung bird looked like it was doing half light speed!

"Wow, a low-rider! Oh, Zelda, I just gotta drag this baby!"

Zelda moved her thumb to another button and clicked it repeatedly. The Dragon began hopping up and down on its front landing gear.

"Jesus, Chief! No wonder those Black Lancers like this fighter so much! It is WAY cool!"

Zelda was beaming. "I can have this one ready for Telefon if you want, dear."

I grabbed her and hugged her. "I want!" I was like a kid with a new toy.

*

I rounded up Lt. Cmdr. Queue and brought him to the Skunk ready room. After nearly three hours with Maniac, I figured the prisoners were just about well done.

Maniac was finishing one of his stories when we came in. "...and that cat spun right into his wingman! Two kitties with one missile! Am I good or what! Ha ha ha! Oh, hi, Ace! You're early! I haven't even told 'em how I saved your ass in the Kilrah System."

On the contrary, from the look of the prisoners, I was almost too late. Half of them were unconscious, two were raving, and three were catatonic. Only one was in any shape to talk, and he was weeping hysterically. I had seriously overestimated our arrogant guests' resistance to drivel.

"That's OK, Maniac, I think you've made an impression. Why don't you take a Playboy break?"

"Hey, good idea, Ace! See ya later!" Maniac sauntered off, whistling off key.

The last prisoner screamed as Ike pulled off his tape. "I'll talk! I'll talk! Just keep that moron away from me!"

I knelt in front of him. "Agreed, if you cooperate. You're G.E.D., right?" Ike looked at me in surprise, but I ignored him for the moment.

"Yes!" declared the prisoner, pride showing through his tears. "Bred pure! One of the master race! Destined for greatness!"

"Greatness?"

"Power! Fame! Fortune! We'll all have our roles in the New Order: tycoon, general, governor... I'm to be a star! Our Leader has promised it!"

"Who is this Leader?" I pressed.

"I don't know. Security. But he's a war hero and high in Confed, very high. All will be revealed when the time is right. Then my talent will shine! I'll play all the great roles! Hamlet! Rhett Butler! Indiana--"

He was drifting into madness. I shook him back to reality. "What happened inthe Telefon System?"

"Telefon? I don't know! I swear it! But it must be part of the Plan! War between Confed and the Union...then the Black Lance steps in...money, women, power...I deserve it! I have more talent than all those so-called stars put together! To be, or not to be! Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn! Why did it have to be snakes?"

Shit, he was off in a world of his own. I let him go and stood up. Ike faced me grimly.

"Colonel, don't you think you should tell me about this G.E.D.?"

"You're right, Ike. I can't reveal my source, but I can tell you what we're up against..."

*

I was in CIC for the second jump, the one to the Telefon system itself. Not knowing what we'd find, we had both Banshee squadrons ready for immediate launch. All hands were at general quarters in case anything went wrong during our extended hyperjump.

As it turned out, the hop was routine. Thanks to their recent tune-ups, the ships sailed through as smooth as silk. Four CAP Banshees immediately launched from Intrepid, followed by Avengers on long-range patrol. We set our course for Planet 36-24-36 and then I called a briefing.

*

I stood at the briefing table and watched grimly as my squadron commanders filed into CIC, followed closely by Sergeant McLean. Lieutenant SoSo secured her console and joined us.

"OK," I said. "The task force will hold at about a million klicks from the planet. So far the system looks deserted, but keep alert. The Marines will take a shuttle and recon the surface of the planet. I'll escort them in a Dragon. McLean, Forceps wants us to report to sick bay for vaccinations."

McLean nodded. If he was concerned about flying into a hornet's nest with only one escort, he didn't show it.

Panties did. "Are you out of your mind, Colonel? There could be a hundred Black Lancers cloaked around the planet! Let me go with you!"

"And Hulk! Hulk come, too!"

"Don't forget me, Ace!" Everyone turned and looked at Maniac. Under their amazed stares, he added lamely, "Uh, I just don't want anything to happen to my commanding officer, heh heh."

I knew why, of course. "Thank you, Maniac. I'm touched." Not. "But I want to risk as few lives as possible. Besides, it's just a recon. We'll go in, suss out the situation, and get--"

"Go in and what?" interrupted Panties.

Not again. "Suss out the situation." Blank stares from everyone. "Suss. S-U-S-S." Still no response. "It means to examine, analyze, recon."

Panties shook her head. "Never heard of it. How about you, Sosa?"

"New to me. Hulk?"

"Hulk never hear before. Maniac?"

Maniac was in a scholarly mood. "Nope. Say, McLean, is that from a Latin root?"

"Dunno. Sounds more Greek to me. Hulk?"

I tried to derail their linguistic discourse. "Guys, we don't have--"

"Hulk think word derived from Sanskrit. Huh-huh huh-huh. Panties?"

"People, we--"

"The predominance of sibilants argues against a Sanskrit root," said Panties thoughtfully, "although certain exceptions are known. For example--"

"WILL YOU KNOCK IT OFF!" I screamed. Jesus, did every captain have to put up with this crap? I was beginning to have a lot more sympathy for Captain Eisen.

Grumbling, they quieted down and gave me their full attention.

"That's better!" I barked. "Now while I'm gone, I want squadron commanders to get familiar with the new fighters! Dismissed! Fry, let's go to sick bay."

As we headed for the exit, Panties said cheerfully, "Well, guys, let's go SUSS out those new fighters! Heehee!"

Maniac grumbled, "Shit, I'd rather SUSS out the new Playboy!"

SoSo called out, "Colonel, I'll go SUSS out some Black Lance IFF codes for you!"

Hulk added, "Hulk tired. Hulk SUSS out bunk first!"

Why me, God?

*

Forceps lectured me as he rolled up my sleeve. "OK, kid, this cocktail will immunize ya against all known biowarfare agents. Plus, the synthetic anti-bodies may give some protection against new bugs." He applied the hypospray to my upper arm. Unlike other shots, this one stung like hell.

Forceps rolled down the sleeve again, ignoring my grunt of pain as he brushed against the tender injection site. "Get inta yer biohaz outfits well before ya hit atmosphere, and DON'T TAKE 'EM OFF, even if everything susses OK. I had Chief Morgenstern install decon equipment in yer ships. USE IT!"

I staggered when I jumped off the exam table, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Forceps steadied me. "The shot may make ya a bit dizzy, kid. Stay in reception for about fifteen minutes. Next!"

I took Forceps' advice and sat outside, cradling my arm until the discomfort subsided. One by one, the Marines emerged from the surgery, also rubbing their arms. Corporal Vanish was last; she came out holding her bottom.

*

The Marine shuttle took off while I was in the Control Bay, checking the latest patrol reports. I was in no hurry; my Dragon would catch the plodding shuttle long before it left the protection of Intrepid's CAP.

Zelda was waiting for me beside my fighter, looking fretful. "Your biohaz suit is in the cockpit stowage, Blairbear. Um, look, Chris, do you really have to go down there yourself? Let the Marines do their job. They're trained..."

Not our "Marines." I couldn't let her know that, of course, but I tried to reassure her. "I'll be careful, hon. Believe me, I want to come back to you!" It was true, but I also wanted to come back to Panties. Damn.

Zelda bit her lip, as if undecided about something. Then she took my hand and led me into her workshop. She locked the hatch behind us and pulled me over to where a mat lay on the deck.

I checked my watch. "Zelda, hon, what's going on? I have a mission..."

"I know," she said softly. "But I have a very bad feeling about this one, my darling. I know I can't talk you out of going, but I do want to give you something to bring you luck." She stepped back. In one smooth motion, she unzipped her coveralls and stepped out of them. She was wearing nothing else. Hesitantly, she reached for me.

"YAAAAAAAAH!" Did that awful scream really come from my throat, or was it just the sonic boom I made as I dashed to my Dragon? I didn't remember opening the hatch, climbing the ladder, dropping the canopy, or launching; I only knew that by my watch, I was out in space BEFORE Zelda took me into her workshop.

Nerves shattered, I tried to concentrate on my flying. Time... Yes, time had the power to heal. Sure, I'd be fine. Eventually. I tried not to think about the straitjacketed pirate still raving in sick bay.

Jesus Christ, what a way to start a critical mission! I punched up an auto diagnostic, to reassure myself that all was well. God in Heaven, what else could go wrong?

I soon found out. The ship's AI said, "Diagnostic complete. Systems 100%." I stared at the instrument panel in dismay. My AI had the grating voice of Lieutenant Lemonlips! Oh no, no, no...

*

I joined up with the shuttle and we proceeded to Planet 36-24-36. We made no contacts along the way, which only made me jumpier. The whole star system seemed lifeless...cold...haunted. I shivered and turned up the heat.

As we neared the planet, I scanned for the automated orbital defense station, but found only floating debris. The electromag spectrum was dead--er, inactive. Perhaps the attackers had flattened every comm installation on the planet. Yeah, that was it. I steadfastly refused to consider the alternative, that everyone down there was, er...

Now wearing our biohaz suits, we began atmospheric entry, our destination the planet's only spaceport. It was set on a vast coastal plain, bordered by low rolling hills to the west and ocean to the east. As we came in on final approach, I saw lights from a few small towns and numerous farms surrounding the port.

I overflew the spaceport before letting the Marines anywhere near it. I saw no activity, but an army could have been hiding in the checkerboard of light and shadow below. At least no one fired on me, although I would almost have preferred a fight to the oppressive feeling of desolation.

We set down in a sheltered area on the edge of the tarmac, near the unfenced perimeter. It was full dark; the sun had set here about two hours ago. Except for a downed comm antenna, the port installations seemed intact. Most of th elights were on, which was encouraging, except that the automated power plants could go for months without maintenance.

The Marines burst out of the shuttle and formed a perimeter around our two ships. I noted that they were making excellent use of all available cover despite their clumsy biohaz suits; our spooky surroundings had them acting like real Marines at last. I jumped down from my fighter, drew my photon pistol, and joined McLean behind a crate. I nodded to him, and we moved out.

We advanced to the terminal in a skirmish line, flitting from shadow to shadow, jumping at each random sound. Ten meters from the main doors, McLean deployed his troops behind vehicles and scattered piles of baggage. I crouched behind a mobile loading ramp, uneasily surveying the scene. No damage, no people, and no bodies. All was still--deathly still. It was as if the whole population had suddenly disappeared into thin air.

"Hellooo!" I called. "Union Militia, responding to your distress call!" Shit, no answer. I commed McLean. "Cover me, Fry, but watch out for civvies." I holstered my weapon, took out my flashlight, and slowly exposed myself--er, stood up. No response. My heart in my throat, I cautiously moved toward the cover of a grav truck parked just outside the double doors into the--

"Freeze, asshole!" Three photon rifles were suddenly pointing at me from the cab and rear door of the truck. I couldn't make out the figures holding them, though I knew from the shouted warning that the one in the cab was female.

I noted with relief that the rifles were civilian models, not military. "Fry, hold your fire! They're colonists!" Very slowly, I aimed the flash at myself. "See my insignia? I'm telling the tru--"

The first colonist exclaimed, "Ohmygod! Don't shoot, it's the Heart of the Tiger!" The rifles were withdrawn. I waved to the Marines, and they quickly joined me.

The first colonist climbed out of the cab and walked up to us. "Sorry," she said, fatigue in her voice. "Our attackers were flying the same type fight--"

I heard my companions gasp in surprise. The colonist had moved into the light from a nearby floodlamp, revealing her to be blonde, really built, and utterly gorgeous. She was wearing dirty work clothes--farm clothes--and she'd been crying, but neither that nor the dirt on her face could conceal her beauty.

"Oh God, I think I'm in love," sighed Awks. Judging by the other Marines' faces, he wasn't the only one.

A second colonist jumped out the back of the truck. This one was also female,blonde, and, if anything, even prettier than the first one.

Next to me, Pvt. Wang said in wonder, "Colonel, I'm getting a really GOOD feeling--er, about this planet..." He leered at the the women through his transpex helmet.

McLean punched him in the shoulder. "Forget your wang, Wang! Our job is to--Hubba hubba!"

The third colonist had jumped out of the truck. Also female. Also blonde. Also drop-dead beautiful. She was even more buxom than the first two, and she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her smile would have melted granite.

"On second thought," said McLean eagerly, "All work and no play..." He reached for the seals on his biohaz suit.

"No, Fry!" I grabbed at his hands, but he fought as one possessed. Locked in my struggle with McLean, I could only watch helplessly as the other Marines--except Corporal Vanish--began removing their protective gear.

West stepped out of his suit and reached for the bemused colonist. "Baby, I'm gonna light your--urk!" Suddenly he doubled over and fell to the tarmac.

Awks looked at West in bewilderment. "Northan, what's--aarrgghh!" He keeled over and began jerking spasmodically.

Wang had just enough time to look at me in terror before he, too, collapsed.

Damppuss's suit was only halfway off. Desperately, she tried to get it back on, but it was too late. She grimaced in pain and dropped like a rubber chicken.

McLean watched, horrified, as his team was struck down. "On third thought..." He tore loose from my grip and sprinted for the shuttle. "GoodluckColonel!" he yelled. "Seeyoubackatthe--" Crash! McLean ran right into a cargo container and rebounded onto his keester. Staring in panic at the crack in his helmet,he howled, "Colonel, help me! Oh God, help me, help me--aaaaahhhhh!"

I turned away from the terrible sight and grabbed Corporal Vanish in a bear hug, lest she, too, succumb to insanity. Oh God, five of my troops were dying horribly before my eyes, and I couldn't do a thing about--

"Don't worry, mister, they won't die!" A medic in a white coat had just come out of the terminal, followed by a bevy of blonde beauties. I'd thought Lt.Disch was as pretty as a medic could get, but this newcomer made Disch look like a guy. Hmmm, she reminded me of someone...

"None of us have died," continued the medic wearily, "although we may soon wish otherwise." She signaled to the other women, who retrieved grav stretchers from the truck and efficiently began gathering up my prostrate Marines. They seemed to have plenty of experience at their task.

I released Vanish and confronted the doctor. "All right, Doc, I need answers. Obviously a bioagent was used here, but you say it's non-lethal? And what's with all the blondes? Is this a peroxide atmosphere or something?"

She smiled without humor. "I wish. It's one of the symptoms. This bioagent...rearranges the victim, right down to her DNA: it lightens hair color, rejuvenates the skin, stimulates breast growth, programs a narrow range of weight and height, pegs the waist-to-hip ratio at exactly seventy percent..."

"Wait a sec!" I thought furiously. "Hair, breasts, waist... My God! You mean the women here are all turning into..."

She nodded. "Yes. Centerfolds!"

I was stunned. This was barbarous! Innocent, ordinary women were being transformed into young, beautiful, shapely... Hey! What was wrong with that?

"Uh, Doctor, is that so bad? I mean, you'll have one hell of a bra shortage,or course, but don't all women want to look like Playboy models?"

Whoops! She grabbed my suit with both hands and shook me like a rag doll. "You fucking caveman! You just don't get it, do you? Some of us don't WANT to be sex objects! Besides, OUR MEN ARE CHANGING, TOO!"

"WHAT?" In a panic, I felt for the reassurance of my two best friends. Whew, still there! But Jesus, what an inhuman weapon!

I glanced at young West as he was brought past me on a stretcher. One hand was down his pants, exploring. "Colonel!" he sobbed as the doors swallowed him. "I-I'm SHRIVELING!"

And I thought sitcom warfare was bad!

Her anger spent, the doctor released me. "They all follow the same pattern. Transformation is rapid in female victims, the elapsed time depending on how much she diverges from the target state. It's much slower and more traumatic in men; we're bringing them into makeshift clinics like this one to help ease their symptoms. The few who have already completed the transition are indistinguishable from women--they ARE female."

Now her eyes had a faraway look. "An amazingly elegant bioagent...genetic engineering at the molecular level... It's funny, gender transition is much cruder, almost an afterthought--destruction of the Y chromosome and duplication of the X--but overall it's the most advanced bioconvergence process I ever--"

"Bioconvergence!" I exclaimed. That's who she reminded me of! Dr. Evvin Lee Boddie! God Almighty, was she part of this? But wait, she'd practically been kidnapped... Yes! Gant and blade-boy had snatched her for THIS! And I'd HELPED them!

I spotted a half-meter green cylinder lying near the truck. A yellow logo read "PAL! EXTREME BIOHAZARD!" It also bore the lightning bolt insignia of the Black Lance! My God, they'd been pushing my buttons since day one!

The doctor had slumped against the truck. "All our dreams, our new life here, all gone. My husband...my son..."

I tried to comfort her. "Uh, Doctor, at least they're still alive. And it's not like they were turned into Scotsmen or anything like that..."

She looked up at me. "You still don't get it. We're cut off from the rest of humanity forever! This thing is airborne and incredibly infectious! If it spreads, it'll wipe out the human race--without killing a soul! No men, no babies; humanity would just die out...like we will."

"But maybe a vaccine..."

"So what? Half the human race would want to kill us out of jealousy; the other half would just want to fuck us! We'd be gang-raped or nuked within weeks. Or both! And--and the BLONDE jokes! I'd rather d-die!" Tears were running down her cheeks. "Colonel, if you really want to help us, you'll let everyone think we're all dead! At least that way we can live out our lives--what's left oft hem--in peace!"

Judging by the faces of the other women around us--all stunningly beautiful--they were in agreement. Reluctantly, I nodded. "OK. We'll quarantine this system and keep people as far away as possible. As a precaution, however, you should maintain comm silence and mask your power output as much as possible." I hesitated a moment. "Look, monitor the comm system on one of your shuttles, OK? If I think of something, I'll be back." Brave words, Blair. Can you back them up?

Worthless or not, my promise seemed to encourage the doctor. She gave me a wan smile and offered her hand. Awkwardly, I took it and squeezed. "There's always hope," I said lamely. Then I turned to go.

"Corporal Vanish?" I called. "Let's go home before we turn into-- Corporal?" Damn, where had she-- Oh, shit!

Corporal Vanish had discarded her biohaz suit and was holding hands with a particularly stunning colonist. She flashed her usual sultry smile at me before walking off hand in hand with her new friend. Her hair was already changing color.

Sadly, I reflected that secrecy wasn't just for the colonists' benefit. This planet was an insatiable sex trap, growing ever more alluring with each new victim! And I had already lost my entire command to it! If I failed to keep the secret, millions more would fall victim to their own instincts.

Dejected, I trudged back to my Dragon. Before climbing in, I walked a meter or so into the lush perimeter grass. Kneeling, I scooped up a handful of dirt and vegetation. I didn't need instruments to tell me the soil was rich, richer even than the soil on Nephritis II.

I stood and inhaled deeply. My air was canned, of course, but I could almost smell the fragrances on the wind. Back on my farm, it was early summer; here it was still spring. Surrounded by the melodious songs of imported Terran insects, I understood why the colonists had come so far and risked so much to settle here: this planet was truly Paradise. Only now, the madness of man had turned it into Hell.

I shivered inside my climate-controlled suit. If I was right, there was more horror to come. So far all our Black Lance prisoners had been male. I had a sneaking suspicion that what the supermen really wanted from this planet wasn't terror, but rather companionship worthy of a master race. If they already had a vaccine, as I suspected, then they'd be back...to rape what they had sown.

Somehow, I had to stop them.

*

High in the planet's atmosphere, I leveled out and advanced the throttle. Faster and faster I flew, until the Dragon's skin glowed cherry red and the cockpit temp rose dangerously high. Satisfied that the ship was sterile, I zoomed up into space. Then I popped the decon cylinder Zelda had installed in the cockpit. After waiting double the recommended time for the gas to act, I vented the atmosphere, replaced it with good air, and cracked my suit seals. I held my breath... Whew! Safe. I doffed the biohaz gear, put on my trusty flight helmet, and set course for Intrepid.

Along the way, I wiped the flight log and worked on my cover story. I hated tolie, but the Sirens of Telefon were damn near irresistible to men and womenalike. Why, I might have fallen to their charms myself...

Hey! Why hadn't I?

Funny, even before I knew the danger, I hadn't been all that attracted to the colonists. Yet normally I was as horny as a brass band. What could have--

Zelda!

Of course! I had seen Zelda naked, and the trauma had protected me like an invisible shield of virtue! My God, I owed her my, er, eggs! Again! Her "gift" had brought me luck after all!

*

Nearing Intrepid, I prepared for my big scene. I'd need all my dramatic skills to bring this off.

SoSo appeared on the comm, looking more haggard than ever. If she had really slept as ordered, it hadn't done her much good. "Suss anything, Colonel?" she asked wearily. "Er, where are the Marines?"

"They won't be c-coming back, Lieutenant," I replied, with a catch in my voice. "There was a bioagent on the planet, all right, and it went right through their suits." I paused, as if fighting to control my grief. "I'm only here because I was covering them from orbit. I-I heard them screaming...and screaming!" That last bit was true enough.

SoSo recoiled in horror. "Then...they're all DEAD? The Marines? All the colonists? Oh no!"

"I'm afraid so, SoSo. I want you to recall our Avengers and alert Major Marshall. Tell him he has to surround the planet with quarantine beacons and laser mines, just like we did at Locanda IV."

"Uh, roger, Earthworm. Oh God, those poor Marines... Earthworm, what should I do with this message that just came for them? It's plain language, but in a code I can't break."

Message? Code? "Read it to me."

"It reads, 'Show cancelled. Contracts terminated. Sorry.' It's signed, 'Sox.' What does it mean, Colonel?"

I barely kept a straight face. That was no code. Think fast, Blair. "Uh, it sounds like some special op--a 'show'--has been scrubbed. Just as well they don't need our Marines." I wouldn't miss their program, of course, except that Sox would probably put on something worse in its place, like "Alpha Centauri 90210."

*

Wearily, I climbed down the ladder from the cockpit. One more fucking mission down; how many more could I survive?

A number of crewmen were waiting in the bay. I must have looked even worse than I felt, because, one by one, they came up and shook my hand, patted my shoulder, or just made sympathetic noises. I accepted their condolences gracefully--even from people who weren't talking to me a day ago--but all the time I was looking for Zelda.

There! She walked up to me diffidently, eyes on the deck. "Blairbear," she said quietly, "I'm sorry about...the planet. It must be so hard on you." She fidgeted uncomfortably. "Look, Chris, about...before; I'm sorry, and I won't bother you any-- Er, what's wrong?"

I was staring at her in wonder. My God, she was beautiful! I'd just come from a planet of women to die for, and all I could think of was how much I wanted plain old Zelda. She'd saved both my life and my manhood, of course, but right now my feelings ran deeper than mere gratitude or simple love. I wanted her out of the purest animal lust.

"Zelda, are you still wearing the same underwear?"

She took a step back and pulled her coveralls tighter. "Uh-huh," she replied warily.

Without a word, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her toward her workshop. The crowd around us was galvanized into action, and in seconds we were passing between two lines of cheering techs and deckhands. Zelda was giggling like a schoolgirl as she tried to duck the blizzard of condoms and sex toys bombarding us.

I slipped through the hatch and kicked it shut behind us. My ears ringing from the sudden silence, I knelt by the mat and gently set Zelda on it. She put her arms behind my neck and pulled me down to her. Our lips met...

Ouch! Damn buck teeth...

End of Chapter 25

Previews from Chapter 26:

"I wish I c-could light a candle for everyone on that planet, Chris."

"Rawwk! Tolwyn is a jerk!"

"I'm not gonna leave you, Chris. I mean that."

"HQ to Dragonfly One! Halt for final security check!"

Chapter 26

"Paw? Paw? Wake up, Paw!"

Huh? Wha? Oh, it was just little Billy Joe Bob. I smiled and reached out of bed to tousle his sandy hair. "OK, son, I'm up. Git t'other young 'uns up.Maw an' I'll be along directly. Lotta work t' do t'day."

He grinned and ran out of our bedroom yelling, "Bobbie Sue! Jasper Ray! Mary Lou! Time t' git uuuuuup!"

I rolled over and shook Zelda gently. "Maw?" I coaxed. "Time t' git up, Maw. Let's git some breakfust afore the young 'uns git it all. Yer eatin' fer two agin, y'know."

She opened her eyes and smiled at me. God, how I loved the way her teeth stuck out between her lovely lips!

"Don't worry, Paw. I programmed the droids fer extry helpin's t'day." She licked her lips and pulled me to her. "Unless, of course, yuh want yer breakfust in bed..."

Oh boy, did I! I reached under her nightshirt...

*

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Wha? Oh, somebody was banging on the hatch. Bleary-eyed, I glanced at my watch. Uh-oh, Zelda and I had been in her workshop for hours! Well, tough shit. The damn Border Worlders had already made it clear they didn't really need a ship's captain. I snuggled closer to Zelda. Mmmm, that dream had been soooo good--

BAM! BAM! BAM! "Hey, Ace! Put it back in your pants and get out here!"

Oh, shit, now Maniac had wakened Zelda, too. "Major!" I yelled. "If you bang on that hatch one more time, 'Confed's Funniest Home Vids' will have a new grand prize winner!"

That shut him up. I slid out from under the blanket and started to dress.

Zelda sat up and stretched languidly. "Mmmmm. I don't suppose the war can spare us another hour or two...?"

"Sorry, hon. It's a miracle we had this long." I knelt and kissed her cheek; too many welts on my lips to go near her teeth for a while. "Zelda, you sweet thing, why didn't you tell me it was your first time? I'd have been more, er, gentle."

"Actually, Blairbear," she said dreamily, counting on her fingers, "it was my first time, my second time, my th--"

"Uh, yeah. Can I help it if you're addictive?" In truth, it was more than that. Telefon had torn a void in my soul big enough to hold a dreadnought. Zelda had filled it neatly with a mere fraction of the love within her.

I cracked the hatch and slipped out, closing it behind me. Maniac was waiting impatiently outside, still wearing his biohaz suit--er, suits; the idiot had somehow stuffed himself into a double layer of bioprotection.

"About time, Romeo!" he said. "Jeez, I risk my life to quarantine that planet and you-- Say, what happened to your lips? Yer little chipmunk? Hyuck hyuck! Jeez, Ace, I hope ya didn't let her give you h--"

"Just give me your report, Maniac!" In fact I had, and it was beginning to smart.

"OK, OK," he replied, still smiling. "That place is quarantined tighter than Locanda IV. Double shell of laser mines, plenty of warning beacons in orbit, beacons at each jump point." He handed me a data cartridge. "It's all in here. Deactivation code is Wing Commander's eyes only, per standard procedure. Now if you'll excuse me, Don Juan, I have a date with my bunk."

Good riddance. Tentatively touching my tender lips, I decided I had a date, too--in sick bay.

*

Forceps examined my lips and gave me a tube of regen cream, thankfully without comment. When I asked for an extra tube, however, he couldn't resist.

"Better tell Chief Morgenstern to let me fix her teeth, kid," he advised, "before ya end up singin' soprano, if ya take my meanin'." I took his meaning, all right, but I had no intention of changing anything about Zelda.

SoSo wasn't in CIC, even though it was her watch. Lt. G'Neer was covering her station again, but since he was fast asleep, I went up to Lt. Pilotte instead.

"Hi, Skye," I said. We exchanged the BattleCruiser 4000 AD Official Secret Handshake. "What's our status?"

"A courier ship from the Admiral followed us here to Telefon, sir. Lt. Sosa gave them a full report. We're on our way to join the Union fleet in the Marathon System; intelligence reports a major Confed buildup in the sector. Our first jump is coming up in less than an hour."

I was sorry I'd asked. It was obvious now that the Telefon strike had had two objectives: playmates for the Black Lance, and a massive provocation aimed at the Union government. With the two fleets facing each other on a hair trigger, war could break out at any time. We needed to know Confed's plans, and for that we needed SoSo.

"Where's Lt. SoSo, Skye?" I asked.

"Uh, sir, the Telefon thing hit her pretty hard. She was crying on and off through the last watch, and finally she just left CIC. Sir, I'm worried about her; she's done four watches in a row."

"Thanks, Skye. Carry on." I knew where to find Lt. SoSo.

*

I crept through the crowded storage hold as quietly as I could, carefully avoiding arms and legs protruding from crowded bunks. What with our increasing casualties and the deteriorating political situation, the crew had taken more and more to sleeping in pairs; the news of the Telefon tragedy had only accelerated the trend. Here and there I saw figures moving under blankets, but for the most part people were too exhausted to do more than sleep.

Intrepid was disintegrating in front of my eyes. My people were falling asleep at their stations; I'd finally had to curtail our patrol schedules to maintain combat efficiency, accepting the increased risk of a surprise attack. Despite equipment and manpower shortages, we'd pulled off one miracle after another, but any idiot could see we were at the end our rope--well, almost any idiot; over in that lower bunk, Maniac was chuckling over the latest Playboy as if he hadn't a care in the world.

I made my way to the back of the hold. SoSo was at her shrine, all right, only this time she'd lit half a dozen candles. As I drew near, she looked up at me with tear-stained cheeks.

Her voice was soft and mournful. "I wish I c-could light a candle for everyone on that planet, Chris."

Poor kid. First Circe, then Catnip, and now Telefon. Should I tell her the truth, that no one had actually died on 36-24-36? No, probably not. She was smart enough to see that the truth was worse than the lie. Let her think the colonists had died quick and clean.

I sat on the empty bunk next to her. "Maybe it's enough that you've lit these,hon. I'm sure they're grate--er, they WOULD be grateful--that someone cares."

My words were small comfort. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and asked, "How could they do it, Chris? At least when the Kilrathi committed genocide, it was war--against another race. But these fiends did to their own, for no reason other than evil--pure evil!"

I thought back to my military history classes at the Academy, and the more personal history lessons I'd learned from Flint--both in and out of bed. "Not evil, Velina, just human. We have a history of savagery unparalleled in the known galaxy." I laughed without humor. "The Kilrathi thought they were so fierce? The poor bastards never had a chance against us!" I paused a moment, hearing once again a billion throats screaming in terror as I fled a blazing world. "That's why we won, Velina--because we're worse than the cats." I turned and looked straight at her. "And better."

She returned my gaze unflinchingly. "Better? Because I light a few candles? Dead is dead, Chris. The colonists, those brave Marines...good or bad, they're all dead now. And if I'd gone down with the Marines, I'd be dead, too. Would anyone be lighting a candle for me?"

"I would." Surprisingly, I meant it. On 36-24-36, she'd be alive and breathtakingly beautiful, but the old SoSo--skinny, flat-chested, annoying--would be gone forever. "I'd miss you terribly, Velina."

Her eyes dropped and the tears began to flow again. "Thanks," she whispered. "Look, Chris, I-I'm sorry for what I s-said. You were right, we have a duty...t-to the living..." I took her in my arms and held her as she sobbed. Poor SoSo had never learned to numb her feelings, as I and the other vets--the sane ones--had. It occurred to me that maybe she was just braver than we were.

Still sniffling, she pulled herself loose and stood up. "Responsibility's a b-bitch, isn't it, sir? I g-g-guess I'd better report for muh-muh-my watch."

I watched her for a second as she staggered away. Damn, this kid was wrapped way too tight. I lunged for her wrist and steered her back to the bunk. She didn't resist when I laid her down on her side and removed her shoes.

"Get some rest, Sosa," I said softly. "That's an order." I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and tucked it around her. "I'll take your watch in CIC." I found some WipeX under the bunk and dried her tears.

I thought she was out already, until she opened her eyes and looked up at me. In a little-girl voice she said, "Chris, you called me Sosa..."

Huh? Why, so I had. I smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Well, that's your name, isn't it?"

Smiling, she closed her eyes and nodded. "Mmm-hmm." In less than a minute, her face was relaxed and child-like, her breathing deep and even. With a sigh, I got up and crept away, trying to convince myself that I hadn't just fallen for yet another of my crewmates.

Maniac was still happily perusing his magazine. He was so happy, in fact, that he broke into song. "Hey hey, we're the Monkees--"

"Shut up, you moron!" A shoe came sailing from an upper bunk three rows down and bounced off the bunk frame two centimeters from Maniac's head. He looked up in annoyance.

"Hey, who's the wise--Oh, hi, Ace! Hey, Captain Polaroid, why didn't you tell me what you were really doing on that Tyr recon mission? Hyuck hyuck!" He held up the magazine to show me an overhead shot of some nude sunbathers by a pool. Hmm, that holopic looked awfully familiar... I checked the facing page for the pictorial's title: "Photo Recon Special: The Girls of Tyr VII". Under it, the holography was credited to "Colonel Christopher Blair."

Oh, shit! My AI on that mission had of course been sabotaged by some out-for-a-buck techie, but naturally everyone would think I was the culprit. And if I'd sold out to Playboy, then why not to the Union? Any credibility I'd had with Confed was down the tubes now.

"Pretty slick, Ace!" said Maniac admiringly. "Bet ya got a bundle for those pics! Say, you still got the rest of 'em?" he asked eagerly.

That did it! Sosa had worked herself into a nervous breakdown, and here this clown was lazing around soliciting jerk-off fantasies from me! Time he pulled his weight for a change.

"Maniac," I declared sternly, "you have too much time on your hands. Get offy our ass and help me in CIC."

He reacted with his usual good humor. "Fuck you, Ace! This is my off-watch!" Maniac leaned back and flipped to the next page of his magazine.

In no mood for nonsense, I grabbed him in a Zelda-lock and forced him to his feet.

"Ow! Leggo my ear! Ow! Easy, Ace! Ow! OK! OK! Just let me pick up my Playboy!" He retrieved his precious magazine and reluctantly followed me to CIC, bitching all the way.

*

I relieved Lt. G'Neer at the comm console, then spent half an hour showing Maniac--repeatedly--how to handle routine comm traffic. Hesitant at first, he was soon like a kid with a new toy. He started calling the frigates every five minutes for "comm checks" during which he'd recite from his collection of dirty limericks.

On my way to the nav console, I checked the helm display. Panties and Hulk were out instructing some of our pilots on the new Dragons, and Skye was trying to keep Intrepid especially steady for the practice landings. I patted her back in silent acknowledgment of her long watches at the helm; my reward was a bright smile.

At the nav console, I retrieved all our prisoner interrogations. If we were going to foil the Black Lance, we had to cease our futile firefighting and strike at the heart of their plot. Surely there must be a clue hidden somewhere in the gigabytes of intelligence we'd already gathered.

I worked with a will, spurred by the memories of what I'd seen on 36-24-36. I absently noted our first hyperjump, but otherwise I was too deeply engrossed to notice my surroundings. Ike had already started to cross-correlate our mounds of data; after two hours of intense work, I was beginning to make progress. It was becoming more and more apparent that the Dragons were the key to the mys--

"Rawwk! Hard to starboard!"

"Yikes!" I sprang from my seat, certain we'd been ambushed. How had they found-- Oh, shit! My parrot had somehow found its way into CIC! Perched on Skye's shoulder, she was playing captain, much to the amusement of Maniac and Lt. Pilotte.

"Hey, Ace!" quipped Maniac. "I think you're out of a job! Ha ha ha!"

"Awwk! Damn the torpedoes! Full speed--"

"Shut up, bird!" I yelled. "And quit bothering Lt. Pilotte!"

"Awwk! Killjoy!" grumbled the parrot. Skye hastily caressed her tummy feathers, gradually calming the agitated bird.

Trembling with reaction, I resumed my seat. Goddamned bird! OK, where was I? Yeah, those fabulous new Dragons could only have come from Confed's huge R&D organization, and that was controlled by Tolwyn's Strategic Readiness Agency. Then somebody high in the SRA hierarchy had to be involved; someone who could channel the latest weapons to his pals in the Black Lance; someone with ties to Covert Ops; probably the big cheese of the whole conspiracy. But who?

The parrot fluttered onto my shoulder. "Rawwk! Tolwyn is a jerk! Tolwyn--"

"Quiet, bird!" I said in annoyance. Now, what else did I know? Mr. or Ms. X was cruel and ruthless, of course; was he/she a maniac? I glanced at Maniac, who was busily mining his nose for new exhibits in his booger collection. No, not a maniac--a megalomaniac! Yeah! Someone with an ego that could justify the most heinous atrocities in the pursuit of ambition. Wait a sec! Telefon! Mr. X was a male, and he had a taste for centerfolds! OK, Blair, who's high up in the SRA, has a monstrous ego, and likes buxom blondes? Think! Think! Augh, it's on the tip of my tongue!

"Rawwk! Pretty Chastity! Tolwyn and Chastity, up in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N--"

"Will you shut up, bird!" I rummaged through my pockets and found a fragment of cracker. The parrot took my offering in one claw and began to eat. I tried to resume my deliberations, but it was too late; the answer had receded beyond retrieval. That damn dumb bird!

Now I really had to warn Tolwyn. With the situation coming to a head, Mr. X might decide at any moment to knock off his boss and take over. But how to pass the information--

Maniac suddenly began fumbling with the comm controls. "Whoops! Where's the--Shit! Hey, Ace, priority message coming in, but there's some kind of static! I-I can't filter it out!"

I was there in two jumps. Damn, was it more sitcom jam-- Oh, hell! "Maniac, you dope, it's just a different scrambler code! Here, see?"

"Er, I knew that! Just testin' ya, Ace! Haha ha! The Maniac always--"

"Shh!" Admiral Willful's aide was on the comm. Now what was the flagship doing in this system? Had war broken out already?

"--message for Intrepid. Dammit, where are you, Intrepid? Admiral Willful calling with--"

"Intrepid here." I replied. "Go ahead."

The view switched to the flagship's sick bay. Admiral Willful was still in bed, only now he looked much worse. His eyeballs protruded from sunken cheeks; his skin had a yellowish tinge to it. His eyebrows had been singed off, and the hair above his forehead was scorched. The Admiral's breathing was labored and hoarse, despite the oxygen mask. Ominously, his nurse was middle-aged and male.

"Breath of the Tiger!" he croaked. He gestured weakly to his nurse, who raised the bed enough for the Admiral to talk to us. Willful clawed his mask off and coughed feebly a few times.

"Time is running out, son. Your Telefon report has stirred up a hornet's nest. If Confed doesn't declare war, the Union will." The Admiral was seized by a prolonged coughing fit. His nurse gave him a hypospray and Willful's breathing eased somewhat.

"Whew, son, I thought that was it! We have one chance, Blair. You've got to expose the conspiracy now...get evidence that no one can cover up...stop this war once and for all."

"I've come to the same conclusion, Admiral," I replied, "but I need a target. I have scads of data, but I just haven't been able to put the clues together."

Willful smiled weakly. "Blair, over the last few weeks, you've sent us an incredible number of prisoners. All this time, I've been going over their stories with a fine-tooth comb."

"I don't know, Admiral," I replied skeptically. "Enemy security has been so tight that our prisoners know next to nothing."

"You forget, Blair: I was a cop for forty years. I know how to put puzzles together even when most of the pieces are missing." Another coughing spell threatened, but he fought it down by sheer willpower. "I looked for little things: where they were recruited, when they joined their ships, low-level conspirators they knew, common acquaintances from their pasts, names and dates up the ass. I added them all up, and I got one answer: the Pythagoran Cluster."

Maniac couldn't resist showing off his knowledge. "Been there, done that," he said in a bored tone. "Ain't nothing in the Pygath--er, Thypag--er, that cluster."

"Shut up, Maniac!" I hissed. Pythagoras? Of course! Zeke had sold his cloaker to "traders" coming from the Theorem System!

The Admiral's strength was nearly spent. "I wish...I could pin it down more, son...no time to search...the whole cluster..."

"It's all right, Admiral," I said grimly. "I know exactly where to look. This time it's the Black Lance's turn to be surprised!"

He smiled again, and for a moment the old fire blazed in his eyes. "I knew I could count on you, son! By God, I wish I could be there with you!" Then the fire went out, and he sagged against the pillow.

"The Admiral needs to rest now," said his nurse. The display blanked.

"I wish you were here, too, sir," I whispered. The old lush had really come through for us this time.

"Hey, Ace!" said Maniac curiously. "How come you always know where to look for trouble?"

I reagarded him with undisguised contempt. "Because I'm the Wing Commander and you're just the comic relief, Maniac. Helm! I need a destination one jump from the Theorem System!"

Skye set the autopilot and sat down at the nav console. "That would be Axiom or Lemma, sir. Axiom is closer, about six hours. Two jumps from here, but the jump point lineup is extremely favorable."

Yes! What a piece of luck! "Very well, make it so."

She looked at me blankly. "What?"

"Are you deaf, woman? Make it so!" I repeated.

She looked around in confusion. "Make what sew, sir?"

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "The ship! The course! Our destination! Dammit, just get us to Axiom!"

"Ohhhhh," she replied. "Axiom! Jeez, why didn't you say so, sir? Sheesh!"

I did, you stupid bitch. I turned to my ersatz comm officer. "Maniac, signal our escorts to conform to our maneuvers."

He just stared. "Conform?"

Why me, God?

*

The word spread like wildfire through the task force. At last we were taking the fight to the enemy! Everywhere I went on Intrepid, I was greeted with ear-to-ear grins and raised fists. The crew's depression was replaced by grim determination. Whether officially on watch or not, everyone pitched in to get the ships into top fighting trim. No matter that this was just a recon; we were going into the lion's den, and we were going loaded for bear.

Under the circumstances, I hated to take time for a funeral, but I owed it to the memory of our absent Marines. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to remind the crew of the sacrifices it had taken to get us this far.

When I got to the part where I usually made some personal remarks, I instead invited the crew to gather round the six empty coffins and say good-bye in their own way. For my own part, I'd miss McLean the most; he was the closest to my age, and he'd had modest success in a career that had eluded me. The crew's sympathies lay elsewhere, however; by far the largest crowd was gathered around Corporal Vanish's coffin.

Farewells said, I launched the coffins and led the crew in song.

"Six bottles of beer in the wall, six bottles of beer..."

Technically, of course, civilians weren't entitled to military honors, but McLean's thespians had faithfully served humanity in space, above and beyond their nominal duty as civilians. They deserved to go out as Marines.

*

I was late for my own briefing; it had taken longer than expected to select the recording and surveillance equipment I wanted to bring along. When I got to CIC, everyone was already there.

Sosa and Panties were standing with their heads together, giggling like school-girls. When I came through the doors, they suddenly stopped talking and waved innocently at me. While that was disturbing, to say the least, it was good to see Sosa smiling again.

I took my place behind the briefing table and began. "Ahem! OK, people, here's the scoop. The task force will wait here in the Axiom System, half an hour from the escape jump point. So far the scopes are clear, but don't relax. I want half the Dragons on CAP at all times. They have a limited ability to detect cloaked ships; I don't want the Black Lance sneaking up on us. Be sure to keep our own Dragons cloaked."

I brought up a display of the Axiom System. "A major Black Lance base--maybe even their HQ--is operating in the Theorem System, accessible through this jump point here. It's too risky to bring the whole task force, so I'm going in alone to suss--er, recon the system. Sosa, I'm counting on you to get me past their security."

Sosa handed me a data cartridge. "Transponder settings, comm codes, passwords, all from the Black Lance transport. You're Dragonfly One, only survivor of the transport's escort fighters. No one outside this task force knows that we've captured the transport or the Dragons it was carrying."

"Thanks, Sosa," I replied gratefully. "Panties, if I'm not back in twelve hours, you'll know Theorem is the right target. Get the Union fleet here and hit Theorem with everything you've got. OK, any questions?"

"Yeah, Chris!"

"Hulk have question."

"Me, Ace! Me!"

So much for a nice quiet briefing. "Maniac?"

Maniac eyed his companions warily. "Uh, Ace, this is a tough mission. If, uh, you don't come back, what happens to the you-know-what?"

I smiled. I had already disabled my auto-blackmail software in anticipation of Maniac's "concern" for me. "You're already off the hook, Maniac. Hulk?"

"Uh, Hulk ask if he come, too. Blair friend. Hulk help friend."

I was touched. "Thanks, Hulk, but our cover story is thin enough for one; it would never work for two. Panties?"

"What makes you so sure Theorem is the right target, Earthworm? The Pythagoran Cluster has dozens of star systems."

"Good question. Theorem is possibly the least interesting system in the whole cluster: no habitable planets, few natural resources, and lots of dust and rubble to hinder navigation. That makes it perfect cover for a large-scale military operation. Also, I have an eyewitness account of a Black Lance ship jumping from Theorem to Lemma." I didn't tell them that the eyewitness was Prince Thrakhath himself, former heir to the throne of Kilrah.

Panties wasn't through. "If it is their main base, you shouldn't be going in alone. Dammit, Chris, do you know the wartime protocol for captured spies?"

As if I weren't scared enough already! "Gee, let me guess, Colonel! "Five star resort? Dancing girls? Waited on hand and foot by DUMB-ASS BORDER WORLDERS?"

Seeing Panties shrink from my anger, I was instantly contrite. She was only worried about me, after all. "Sorry, Tamara. Look, I appreciate your concern, but there are good military reasons why I have to go solo, OK? Dismissed, everyone."

*

I stopped by the galley to pick up a thermos of--ugh--tomato soup before heading down to the flight deck. I'd need something to tide me over on my long mission, of course, but more important, it was an excuse to put it off a little longer.

Despite my bravado, I was scared, really scared this time. I was going up against a horde of purebred supermen who hated my guts all the way down to the DNA--and I was going alone. One little slip, and death was the best I could hope for. The worst? Well, I didn't fancy the idea of using "feminineprotection" the rest of my life.

At the hatch to the Wombat locker room, I paused for a moment and raised my eyes to Heaven. OK, God, I know I haven't been very respectful lately, but if you could, you know, make it so I don't have to do this alone...please?

Sighing in resignation, I stepped through the hatch--and stopped short. My prayer had been answered!

Little Sosa, wearing an undershirt and Marine combat trousers, was buckling on a huge ammo belt stuffed with rifle grenades and mini-flares. From a nearby locker she retrieved a flamethrower, a photon rifle, and duct tape. Setting them on the bench, she began taping the flame unit to the rifle.

She looked up and grinned at me. "I'm not gonna leave you, Chris. I mean that."

Three lockers down, Hulk was also preparing. He was wearing only trousers, combat boots, a bandanna headband, and a necklace with a single jade stone. Muscles rippling, he jammed a sawtoothed knife into his belt sheath, slung a huge bow and a quiver of explosive durasteel arrows over his shoulder, and picked up a two-man automegablaster.

His steely eyes locked with mine. "To survive war, Hulk become war!"

Panties stood next to him in olive drab: cap, sleeveless shirt, camouflage pants, and combat boots. She buckled on first a pistol belt, then a suspender belt loaded with power paks. Her photon rifle was equipped with silencer and telescopic sight. Her hair was in a ponytail.

Biceps bulging, she hefted the rifle and grinned wickedly at me. "Any Black Lancer not wearin' two million sunblock is gonna have a REAL BAD DAY!"

Sosa finished her taping and carefully picked up the hybrid weapons system. Precariously balancing her heavy load, she slung the strap over her shoulder and struggled to hold her weapons at the ready.

I stared at my would-be army for a few moments, then once again reverently raised my eyes.

OK, God, very funny! Ha ha! You're a real comedian aren't you? Next time I ask for help, just strike me down with lightning and get it over with, OK?

My three friends were still looking at me expectantly. I tried to let them down gently. "Uh, sorry, people. I wish you could come along,"--NOT--"but this is strictly a space recon--no leg work. I appreciate the offer, really."

Panties wasn't giving up. "At least let me fly your wing as far as the jump point, OK, Chris?"

Shit, she was practically begging. How could I refuse? "OK, Tamara, but no further. You're needed here, too."

"I'm coming, too!" said Sosa stubbornly. Still topheavy, she reached into the locker on tiptoe, brought out a combat helmet, and gingerly set it on her head. It stayed for a moment, then slipped down over her eyes. Sosa fell backwards onto her butt. She peeked out from under the helmet and said sheepishly, "Er,maybe not..."

Zelda was putting up a brave front, but I could sense the tears just beneath the surface. She caressed my cheek and forced a little smile. "I'm sorry to act like such a baby, Blairbear. After all, you've always come back to me..."

I took her hand and squeezed it. "That's because you're my good luck charm, hon. Now here, kiss my helmet like a good little girl."

She did so and stepped back from the ladder. "I left a special present in your cockpit, dearest. Good luck!"

Up in the cockpit I found a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the windscreen. I grinned to myself. Damn, Zelda thought of everything! I turned to wave at her, only to find her deeply engrossed in a conversation with Panties. From time to time they'd look up at me and giggle.

I began to wonder why Panties was so insistent on accompanying me. Just to be safe, I decided not to let her on my six.

*

Panties commed me on a tight beam about halfway to the Theorem jump point. "Comm check, Earthworm."

I consulted my instruments. "Optimal, Panties." I looked for her on my wing before remembering she was cloaked, as was I. Even in the Dragon's advanced optics, her fighter was just a ghostly outline.

She wasn't done. "Reality check, Earthworm."

Huh? "Uh, reality check?"

"Yeah." I could hear the laughter in her voice. "I had a long talk with Zelda after your little sleepover, Chris. Then I got together with Sosa in CIC."

Sweet Jesus, I was a dead man! "Uh, yeah, I saw..."

"Anyway, much as we tried to hate you, we couldn't. Except for your allergy to commitment, you're a helluva decent guy. You're Sosa's emotional crutch, Zelda's dream lover, and my...well, you're my hero." She paused a moment.

"Uh, it's a two-way street, Tamara. Each of you has saved my life at least once on this tour, if not physically, then emotionally."

She considered. "A bit melodramatic, but essentially accurate. Since we're in basic agreement, here's our proposal: For now, no promises, no rules, no rivalry. We're one big happy family, and we let nature take its course. But when this crisis is over--and if we're still alive--we settle things...once and for all. Deal?"

"Deal. Believe it or not, Tamara, I want commitment in my life as much as you do--maybe more." Now that that was settled, I couldn't resist teasing her. "But how would you feel if I end up committing to Robin and Rachel?"

"No problem," she said breezily. "I just hope they like a lover who sings soprano. Heh heh."

Heh heh. Panties was only kidding--I hoped.

*

At long last the jump buoy appeared in my optics.

"Jump buoy ho, Panties," I called. "Look sharp. This side may be guarded."

"Getting passive sensor fluctuations, Earthworm. Looks like cloaked--"

Two Dragons suddenly appeared behind us. "You! Uncloak for security check!"

We uncloaked as ordered. "Dragonfly One and Two returning from Circe," I bluffed. "Sorry about the visuals, we, er, have comm damage." BOTH of us?Pretty lame, Blair.

The guy on the comm screen was checking his instruments. "Transponder codes check... OK. You're way overdue, Dragonfly Flight. Two, why are you late?"

Oh shit, I shouldn't have brought Panties. Even with visual off, her voice would give her away.

"Two, answer or be blown out of space!"

Panties tried to deepen her voice to a male timbre. "Uh, we stopped for a piece of subhuman tail, hyuck hyuck!" I winced. Her masquerade wouldn't fool a grade schooler.

The Black Lancer must have been in kindergarten. "Har har! Slumming, eh? So, Two, how do you like the Border World cows?"

Uh-oh! Panties wouldn't like--

"COWS?" she screamed. "Who are you calling a cow, NEEDLE DICK?"

Oh, shit! I frantically powered up my weapons systems.

"Jiggers, it's a bitch!" The Black Lancer's voice was shrill with alarm. "They're Border Worlders! GET 'EM!"

I hit autoslide and spun to face my pursuer. Two IRs leaped off my racks the instant I got lock. Still recovering from his surprise, the Black Lance pilot was slow to react. Two hits took down his shields, and I finished him with tachyons before he could punch through my forward shields.

Oh no! Two more Dragons had uncloaked and were racing toward the jump buoy! I hit burner and aimed for the buoy myself.

Panties was on the other sentry's tail. He'd cloaked, but her Dragon gave her enough of an image for manual gunnery. Screech! Screech! "Take that!" she yelled. Screech! Screech! "Hey, why are you running? I'm just a COW, remember?" Screech! Screech! "Moo!"

I armed two leeches and waited an eternity for lock. Though jump-capable, the Dragon couldn't jump while cloaked. If my two opponents were smart, they'd cloak to avoid my missiles, then deal with Panties and me before reconfiguring for jump. I had to force them to cloak, then pray Panties could finish off her man in time to help me. Steady...steady...launch!

Those two must have been under orders to jump without delay, because they didn't cloak. Instead, decoys popped from their tails, and they began jinking and weaving. One missile lost lock, but the other... Splat! One down!

Two more leeches took off after the remaining Dragon. More decoys, more hard maneuvering...he was starting to cloak after all... Splat! Hah! Take that, super-morons!

I took a moment to check on Panties. Her target was visible and slowing--Kaboom!

"Score one for the cow--er good guys, Earthworm!" Good work, Panties!

I closed in and finished off my two leeched targets before they could repair. Panties came up on my wing just as I finished configuring for the jump.

"Sorry, Earthworm," she said contritely. "You were right: I shouldn't have come with you."

"Are you kidding, Panties?" I gushed. "You were magnificent! Er, for a Border World cow, I mean. Wahahahaha!"

"You bastard! If you breathe a word of this..."

"'Bye, Tamara. Take care." I blew her a kiss and jumped.

*

The Axiom system had been devoid of electromagnetic activity; Theorem was crawling with signals. I had no time to investigate them, however, because four picket Dragons immediately challenged me. I used the same cover story, praying these guys were as dumb as their brethren in Axiom.

They were. "Roger, Dragonfly One, IFF code checks. You mind explaining how those Border World boobs could defeat four of the master race?"

OK, you asked for it, you arrogant twerp. "Well, we were outnumbered, and they had these new paint bombs--the stuff won't cloak. But that wasn't the worst! Their leader was...the Heart of the Tiger!" Hee hee! That oughta give 'em something to think about!

I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "The Heart of the Tiger!"

"Yeah!" I said, simulating abject fear. "I swear, that guy's supernatural! Took out two of us while we were cloaked, and then he smoked the transport! I was lucky to get out alive. Damn, it beats me how a genetic mongrel can be so fast, so smart, so good-looking, so--"

"Er, yeah." The Dragon leader was sounding much less cocky. "Better report this to HQ personally. While you're there, you might as well stick around for the ceremony. Our Leader will be arriving in a few hours."

"Er, roger." Shit, where was HQ? I quickly scanned the incoming signals. Crossing my fingers, I locked onto the strongest one and took off. It must have been the right one, because nobody took a potshot at me.

Wait a sec! Did he say their leader was coming? This must be Mr. X from the SRA. Hmmm. I'd concluded that infiltrating their base itself was too risky, but now maybe the risk was justified! Only, could Sosa's stolen codes get me past their landing security?

I skirted around a large and incredibly dense asteroid field before switching to autopilot. During my detour I activated my recon gear and tried to classify the wide variety of signals I was receiving. That ultra-band signal had to be a surveillance array; surely this narrow-band signal was an asteroid base. I intercepted calls from a dockyard, a Dragon training squadron, several Bingo class frigates, transports...

My God! This place was a beehive! How long had the Black Lance been preparing? Since the end of the Kilrathi War? Or even before that?

After more than two hours of flight, the Black Lance starbase came up on my detectors. Whoa, this one was nearly as big as Confed HQ! Nothing short of a fleet could take it down. Where had the Black Lance gotten the resources to build it? Jeez, no wonder Confed was still flying obsolete Hellcats! Mr. X must have embezzled more than just weapons.

For a moment, I considered changing course and making a run for the Axiom jump point. No, the opportunity to identify Mr. X was simply too good to miss.

Five thousand klicks out, I received a comm. To my complete surprise, the caller was blonde and female. The tag on her uniform bore only the name "Candi". What kind of a name was that for an officer?

Candi or no Candi, she meant business. "HQ to Dragonfly One! Halt for final security check!"

I complied, all the time staring in wonder at the comm officer. Was I wrong about the Black Lance being all male? Was she G.E.D.? She was wearing a Black Lance uniform...no, her eyebrows were dark, and she lacked the generic look of the G.E.D. products. Scrutinizing her closely, I could see her blonde "hair" was actually a wig. Was she just a mercenary? Holy smoke, was she a GROUPIE?

Not now, Blair. You have other problems. I pulled out Sosa's decryption of the Black Lance's main, or "A" code.

"Roger, HQ," I replied. "Sorry about the visual, I have comm d--"

"Visual not required, One. Beginning recognition sequence, Code B."

"CODE B??" Too late, I clapped my hand over my mouth. Code B?

"Candi" regarded me sternly. "Get your head out of your ass, Dragonfly One! You know the Union has cracked Code A! Now proceed with Code B! One false answer and we open fire!" My instruments showed overwhelming firepower locked on me.

"OK, HQ. Just kidding, heh heh." Why, oh why hadn't I joined the Marines?

She ignored me. "Sequence One: In the Garden of Eden, what was the first thing Eve said to Adam?"

I groaned to myself. The Black Lance was using what my Academy cryptography instructor had called a "QA," or "question/answer" code. It was impossible to break because the desired answer could be the "right" one, or any of an infinite number of "wrong" ones. I was doomed.

Damn, where was Sosa when I needed her? What would I say if I were Eve? Hi, sailor, looking for a date? Feeling panic rising, I tried to play for time."Gee," I said. "That's a hard one." How the hell could I guess--

"Correct, Dragonfly One."

I was caught off guard. "It is? I mean, of course it is." Whew!

Ignoring me again, Candi continued the recognition procedure. "Sequence two: What did Napoleon's Old Guard reply when ordered to surrender at Waterloo?"

Oh, Christ! Why wasn't Angel here? She was the expert on Napoleon! I cursed out loud, unconsciously slipping into Angel's native tongue. "Merde!" Oops.

"Correct, Dragonfly One."

Jesus, another miracle! My heart was pounding like it would burst from my chest. Hands trembling, I downed the last of my tomato soup to steady my nerves. I couldn't take much more of Code B.

Implacably, the comm officer continued. "Dragonfly, final sequence: What do you get when you multiply six by nine?"

Oh no! The required answer could be anything from zero to infinity! My instructor had said to just give the "right" answer in a case like this, but I was too frazzled to do the math. Let's see, put down the five and carry the three--

Ominously, Candi's finger crept toward a button on her console. "Dragonfly One! Immediate answer required!"

Panic held my mind in a death grip. "Uh, uh..." Put down two and carry--"Uh, forty-two?" The computer! I could get it from the--

Candi's finger retreated from the button. "Correct, Dragonfly One. You're cleared, but that was a miserable performance. Jeez, you guys' brains are smaller than your dicks! Study your codes before you request clearance here again! Autolander engaged. Out."

"Uh, yeah, whatever." So they had wanted the mathematically correct answer after all. I was too drained to care. As I was tractored toward the base, I noted idly that my computer had calculated the wrong answer--must have one of those damn Centium chips in it.

Well, no matter. I had passed the last test, and now I was about to learn all the answers. Somewhere within that sinister structure was the key to the mystery that had dragged me away from my home and made me a traitor to Confed. All I had to do was find it.

And get out alive.

End of Chapter 26

Previews from Chapter 27:

"Today, finally, you will meet the man behind the Great Plan..."

"Now, my brothers, now do you see why we provoke war with the Border Worlds?"

"That's when I learned the truth. Beauty isn't a blessing, it's a curse!"

"Hahaha! Missed me, mutants! Niener niener niener!"

Chapter 27

Zelda's lucky dice must have been working overtime, because the landing system bypassed the main flight deck and brought me in on a secondary strip. Except for a couple of Black Lance techs working on a Dragon, the hangar was deserted. Perhaps everyone was preparing for the big ceremony.

I spotted an empty service bay far from the techs and parked inside. An auto-server trundled out of its recess and began working on my fighter. I left my helmet and flight suit hidden in the cockpit and jumped down to program the huge droid. It was a model similar to the ones I'd used at Angel's covert bases in the Kilrah system; I quickly punched fuel, ten IRs, and a wash & wax.

OK, my escape was covered. I activated the microcam, stuck it in my belt, and drew my silenced stun pistol. Time to do a little exploring.

Moving cautiously, I crept toward the back of the bay, where an open hatch beckoned. I peeked through, ready to draw back at the slightest alarm. The hatch led to a magazine filled with rows and rows of autodispense munitions bins. Since it seemed deserted, I slipped through the hatch and began wandering among the bins. I came across several droids, but they ignored me and went about their tasks.

It occurred to me that one of the tickle weapons would be powerful evidence against the Black Lance. I stopped at several of the bins and queried their AIs. Unfortunately, I found only the usual IR missiles, mines, small arms, and so on. One dispenser, however, refused to divulge its contents. Curious, I got up on tiptoe, reached over the edge, and felt around. Hmm, cylindrical objects of some kind. Metallic. I got my fingers around one--

Footsteps coming around the bin! Without thinking, I grabbed one of the cylinders and swung it just as a Black Lance tech turned the corner! Clunk! He dropped like a rock. Whew, that was close!

I looked curiously at my improvised weapon. It was a green half-meter cylinder with a yellow logo that read "PAL! EXTREM--" JESUS CHRIST! Instinctively I dropped the cylinder like a hot potato, then grabbed desperately for it, juggling it to keep it from hitting the deck--got it! Whew! Trembling after my close call, I gingerly returned the bioagent container to its bin. Then I felt myself to verify that all my, er, parts were still normal.

I dragged the unconscious superman behind a bin of space mines. Nobody would find him there. I turned to continue my search--and stopped dead in my tracks.

I had stumbled on the Mother Lode!

Pizza! Stacks and stacks of pizzapaks! Row after row, rack after rack, pak after pak. Dozens of paks--hundreds! A bonanza! Mouth agape, I fell to m yknees. Praiseth Jehovah, who causeth manna to appeareth in the wilderneth...

I slapped myself mentally. No time for this crap! In a frenzy, I grabbed an armfull of pizza and hauled it back to my Dragon. I stuffed the belly space full of pizza, and then I filled the cockpit stowage, and then I forced more behind inspection panels and into the recesses of the landing gear. I hauled load after load. From a juice vending machine I found along the way, I took dozens of cans of liquid refreshment. When I finished, my ship was carrying nearly four dozen pizzapaks and as many cans of assorted fruit juices. Tired but happy, I leaned wearily against the port landing gear and guzzled two cans of apple juice. This should get me off the hook for abandoning Willful's food canister!

I tossed the cans into a nearby recycler. OK, Blair, good haul. Time to go. Put on your flight suit and--Whoops! Nearly forgot the Black Lance! Heh heh.

I made my way back to the unconscious superman in the magazine. If I wanted to explore any more of this starbase, I'd need a Black Lance unif-- Oh, shit! This guy was at least a head taller than me. I'd stick out like a sore thumb in his uniform.

Wait! More footsteps! I took out my stun pistol and waited in ambush. Zap! Zap! I pulled my two new victims behind the bin. Maybe one of-- Oh hell, they were even taller than the first one. Fuck! For the first time in my life I wished I weren't so damn short!

Wait, more footsteps...

*

Twenty minutes later, I had a pile of unconscious Black Lancers behind the bin and still no uniform. I had to admit defeat. Damn, Maniac would never let me hear the end of-- Hey, someone else coming! I could see the newcomer's shadow against the far bin... Yes! My height! Thank you, God!

Wait for it... Now! I jumped out and zapped him--no, her! Shit, a woman! Oh, very funny, God!

I paced back and forth, knowing what I had to do but trying desperately to think of an alternative. There was none. Now that I thought about it, I realized that I'd never pass for one of the tall cookie-cutter purebreds anyway, even if I had a uniform that fit. My only chance was to pose as one of their "mongrel" female groupies. Gritting my teeth, I knelt by my victim--her name tag read simply "Heather"--and started removing her clothes.

Actually, once I got going, it wasn't so bad. As I applied the Depil-8 from Heather's makeup kit to my beard, memories came flooding back. My dear departed Angel had been an incredibly inventive lover with an inexhaustible repertoire of sex games. In several of them, she would take perverse delight in dressing me up as a woman.

Expertly applying the girl's cosmetics, I recalled fond memories of making myself up for one of Angel's favorites, "Naughty Teenage Sisters." I stripped off my own uniform and put on the groupie's heavily padded bra--shit, I needed more padding. I raced to a nearby munitions bin and requisitioned several hand grenades...yes, stuffed into the bra, they gave me a perfect figure! I removed Heather's tiny black silk panties and held them longingly... No, I'd never manage to pack in my, er, equipment; I'd have to go with my own underwear.

The girl's blonde wig was a perfect fit. Admiring my reflection in her hand mirror, I wondered why Angel had never liked me as a blonde. Maybe she was just jealous--I looked pretty good. I wriggled into Heather's tailored black uniform and checked the mirror again. Yeah, the high collar and long hair concealed my adam's apple and thick neck. A few quick strokes of the eyebrow pencil to camouflage my fuzzy brows, and I was all set. Oh, wow, I looked even sexier than I had in Angel's "Lesbian Nazi Interrogator" game!

I forced my feet into the pointed high-heel jackboots and stood up. They were cramped, but I wouldn't be wearing them long--I hoped. My trimmed fingernails and hairy hands would never pass for female, so I jammed them into Heather's skintight gloves. I put on her cap and secured the microcam to it with a hairpin--yeah, in the mirror it was almost invisible. The uniform was a wee bit loose at the hips and incredibly tight at the waist, but the overall effect was acceptable. I picked up my victim's clipboard, shouldered her surprisingly heavy purse, and adjusted my "breasts." Imitating Angel's bold but feminine stride, I set off to find my answers.

*

After half an hour of wandering the station's corridors, I was no closer to the identity of the Black Lance leader. I had, however, learned a few things about his organization.

For one thing, these guys seemed addicted to spit and polish. Every deck was spotless; every fitting gleamed. It reminded me of the Concordia under old "spic & span" Tolwyn; the old man was a fanatic about such things. He'd tried the same policy on the Victory, but he'd met his match in Rachel Coriolis. While openly complying with his demands, she'd orchestrated a clandestine web of sabotage that kept his uniforms dirty, his food cold, and his cabin filthy and smelly. I'd always suspected he was secretly relieved when his Behemoth failed and he could get away from the Victory.

The other thing I noticed was the prevailing attitude toward women. Every corridor I traversed was a gauntlet of leering Lotharios and groping hands. A tall costs I had to keep the amorous Black Lancers away from my crotch and bogus bosom, which left my poor butt undefended. I tried to maintain the coquettish smile and flirtatious manner I'd noted in the other Black Lance groupies, but after about the hundredth pinch I lost it and decked the creep. He just picked himself up, grinned and said, "Whatta bitch! You're mine tonight,Heather!"

I glared at him as he swaggered off. This did not bode well for my sisters--er, the women--on 36-24-36. I hadn't seen such horny bastards since that Marine outfit in the Firekka System.

My boobs had slipped a bit in the excitement, so I hurried to the nearest restroom to--Whoops! Wrong room, Blair! I hastily backed out of the spartan room labeled "Supermen" and slipped through the adjoining door bearing the "Bitches" sign.

Inside, I stopped in surprise. Holy smoke! The place was huge! To the left of the door was a lounge with plush chairs and couches, and a selection of books and magazines. To the right I saw a hypermedia room with holovids, music, and computer consoles. A dark-haired woman, wearing only a towel, passed me and went through a door marked "Jacuzzi." Two more walked by the other way, wearing sports outfits and carrying squash racquets.

Jeez, no wonder they always took so long in the bathroom!

A couple of groupies at the sinks were eyeing me curiously--I was holding the clipboard over my name tag--so I quickly slipped into one of the stalls. I actually had to go, but at the sight of the intricate control panel on the autotoilet, I changed my mind. I'd just have to wait until I could use the less complex men's model. Instead, I listened in on the two groupies' conversation while I adjusted my artificial bosom.

"So, Trixie," said one, "how'd you like your first week as a Black Lancette?"

"Ooooo," gushed her companion. "It's everything you said it would be, Jean--er, I mean, Tiffany. The men are so big and strong and handsome...and CLEAN!" She giggled. "And they can't keep their hands off me! And the PRESENTS! Boy, this sure beats walking the streets of Port Aphrodite!"

"Told ya," replied Tiffany. "Best thing that happened to me since I lost my job after the War. And this is just the beginning. These guys are going to the top, and we're going with 'em!"

"Only problem is," said Trixie in annoyance, "all this padding...and my wig never stays right. And--mpphh!--this uniform is so tight at the waist! I swear, I'm gonna get implants, and liposuction, and--"

"Don't jump the gun, kid. My date last night said he heard a rumor we're all gonna get some kind of high-tech makeover--we won't need this crap after that."

No, they wouldn't need any artificial enhancement after a dose of PAL bioagent. Evidently its existence wasn't common knowledge among the Black Lance.

Their conversation was interrupted by the overhead speaker. "ATTENTION! Five minutes to assembly. Our Leader will speak in five minutes!"

"Oooo!" squealed Trixie. "I'm all goosebumps!"

"Come on," urged her companion. "Let's go get a good spot!" I heard them leave, their high heel boots clicking on the deck.

I waited a moment to be sure the coast was clear before emerging from my hiding place. Out in the corridor, I waited for a group of Black Lancers to pass, then followed them at a discreet distance.

Presently we came to a large meeting hall. Inside, hundreds of Black Lancers were already standing around and talking excitedly. Their groupies were clustered in a small knot near the front, looking like a reunion of the Swedish Bikini Team. I kept to the back, well away from them; they were more likely than the males to spot me as an intruder.

The event was being covered by several holocams, no doubt carrying the big show to every outpost in the Theorem System. They panned around the hall to catch the crowd's building excitement. I felt it as much as anyone--maybe more. After weeks of fruitless speculation, I was about to learn all the answers.

Suddenly a man strode onto the stage and the crowd went wild. Everyone began waving their arms and chanting "Thee-ther! Thee-ther! Thee-ther!" So this was the mysterious Theether Hulk had told us about. I got up on tiptoe and tried to see over the shouting Black Lancers. Hey! It was the bar fighter from Nephritis 2--and the Lexington! So he and Theether were one and the same! Judging by the crowd's reaction, he must be pretty high up in the Black Lance, perhaps even second in command.

Theether held up his hands, and the onlookers gradually quieted. He stepped up to the podium and surveyed the hall for a moment before speaking. Even now, at this triumphal moment, his voice was still cold and harsh.

"Today, finally, you will meet the man behind the Great Plan...the benefactor who championed our kind, fought valiantly for our ideal, and united our breed. Today I reveal what until now I've had to keep locked in my heart. Gentlemen, I give you...OUR LEADER!"

More waving of arms. More chanting. "Lea-der! Lea-der! Lea-der!" Through the forest of raised fists, I caught a glimpse of a man advancing to the podium from the shadows at the back of the stage. He was wearing a fashionable black cape, which he held, Dracula-style, over the lower half of his face. I could see, however, that his hair was white and close-cropped, just like Tolwyn's. Whew, what a relief! At least it wasn't Paladin! Hmm, but who in the SRA besides Tolwyn had white hair?

The guy stole up to the podium and posed for a moment, prolonging the suspenseas long as possible. Then he whipped the cape aside and at last stood openlybefore his followers. As one, the Black Lancers stopped chanting and gasped inastonishment.

Unfortunately, I was unable to see his face. Bobbing and weaving to see around the upraised arms, I could just make out a Black Lance uniform with a stylized red and yellow "T" on the chest. Now what could that stand-- JESUS CHRIST! IT WAS TOLWYN!

A roar went up from the crowd. Shaking their fists more enthusiastically than ever, they chanted "Tol-wyn! Tol-wyn! Tol-wyn!" A triumphant smile on his face, the Admiral basked in their approbation.

I was shaken to the core. Throughout our long feud, and despite all our disagreements over his methods, I had never doubted Tolwyn's loyalty to his race. Yet here he was, proud traitor to all we had fought so hard to preserve. Theether's blade could not have wounded me more deeply.

Finally, Tolwyn held up his hands for silence, and the crowd gradually hushed. Leaning forward, he gripped the podium and earnestly began his big speech.

"Oh, my brothers!" he began. "As you know, nearly three decades ago a few outstanding Confederation officers were asked to supply genetic material for a secret project. That project was, of course, the G.E.D. What you don't know is that among the contributors was a certain young officer by the name of...Geoffrey Tolwyn!"

Amid gasps from the audience, Tolwyn pressed on. "Yes, my brothers! We share the same biological essence! We are ONE!"

Electrified, the Black Lancers punched the air and shouted "Woof woof woof! Against my will, I found myself doing the same. Tolwyn was a mesmerizing speaker.

Tolwyn waited for the crowd to quiet. "In the fullness of time, I attained a rank which made me privy to the secret of the G.E.D.--and I discovered my brethren. Imagine my despair, then, when I learned that the program was to be terminated, and my new-found family scattered to the four winds!"

"No!" "Boo!" "Stinking Confeds!" I booed along with the rest, marveling at the way Tolwyn was manipulating my emotions.

When the jeers had died down, the Admiral continued. "Fortunately, as the man in charge of Project Behemoth--and later the SRA--I was able to divert enough resources to rectify Confed's mistake!" He spread his arms, symbolically encompassing the starbase and all the other installations in the system.

What? Was that the reason for the fatal delay in Project Behemoth? My God, Tolwyn had undermined his own secret weapon! How many thousands had paid with their lives for its failure?

Again, Tolwyn had to wait for the tumult to die down. "For even then, my brothers, I had a plan! A plan to fulfill our destiny as overlords of the galaxy." He dropped the rabble-rousing tone for a moment and assumed the manner of a schoolteacher. "So tell me, brothers, what do you think is the key to this plan, the secret of galactic power?"

"Ultraviolence!" yelled one Black Lancer. "No, superior intelligence!" cried another. Others shouted their own suggestions. "Surprise!" "Fear!""Ruthless efficiency!" One groupie got completely carried away and yelled out, "Boobs!"

Tolwyn smiled indulgently and shook his head. "You're all wrong. The key to power in the modern galaxy is...superior entertainment!"

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Entertainment?"

The Black Lancers around me were looking at each other in bewilderment. I didn't blame them. It sounded like the old coot had finally flipped.

The Admiral drew himself up to his full height. "Hard to believe? Well, consider THIS! All of the largest, wealthiest industrial conglomerates in the galaxy are based on entertainment! Dizzy Enterprises! Origami Systems! Nanosoft! The list goes on! People today are starved for amusement. As a consequence, the entertainment industry is bigger than the next two business sectors combined!"

He had them again. Woof woof woof woof!

Tolwyn shushed the crowd so he could continue. "And what, my brethren, is the one indispensible element of superior entertainment?"

"Good scripts!" "Superior acting!" "Special effects!" "Music!" "Boobs!"

The Admiral was smiling again. "Wrong again. I'll give you a hint. The largest entertainment empire of them all began with a single blockbuster story. That story was NOT called 'Star PEACE!'"

Oh, Jesus, he was talking about Lu--

"That story," he thundered, "is now in its ninety-seventh episode--not counting Special Editions, Revised Editions, Director's Cuts, and Special Collector's Editions! Its cumulative receipts exceed the Gross Domestic Product of the Confederation! And do you know why? Because, as its very title proclaims, it's based on conflict! The one indispensible element of every good story!"

Woof woof woof woof!

I shouted and punched the air with the others. My God, this was exciting! Someone down in front started a wave; when it reached me I threw up my arms with the others and squealed in an imitation girlie voice. Gee, I hadn't had so much fun in-- Oops! Er, what degenerates these Black Lancers were!

Tolwyn gestured impatiently for quiet. "Yet less than two years ago, this seemingly invincible juggernaut was eclipsed by an even bigger story: 'Blair Wars III: Return of the Tiger!' The saga of the Kilrathi War broke every earnings record in the book! And do you know why? Because it was taken from REAL LIFE!"

Ohmygod! I saw where this was heading...

"Now, my brothers, now do you see why we provoke war with the Border Worlds? First we fight the war, THEN WE SELL THE STORY! We'll make billions! But that's just the beginning! Think of the residuals! The sequels! Animated spinoffs! The MERCHANDISING! Black Lance action figures! Games! Cuddly little Tolwyn dolls!"

Woof woof woof woof!

Tolwyn was sweating now as he whipped his men into a lather. "None of the other conglomerates can compete with REAL war! We'll crush them! And when we've milked every last credit out of this war...WE'LL DO IT AGAIN! We'll finish the job on those pathetic Kilrathi! We'll conquer the other known races. And if those bogeymen, the Mantu, really exist, we'll take them down, too!" In an oratorical frenzy, Tolwyn pounded on the podium. "Yes, my brothers, for humanity THE PRICE OF ENTERTAINMENT IS ETERNAL CONFLICT!"

WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!

The noise in the hall was deafening. Drained after his rabble-rousing speech, Tolwyn wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and waved to his screaming fans. The din redoubled when he walked over to Theether, took his hand, and raised it in triumph.

I just stood there, fury rising within me. That bastard! Thousands of lives lost, all so these jerks could make a buck! Thanks to that gibbering baboon up on the stage, I'd been dragged away from my home and loved ones, shot at, villified, and starved nearly to death! I flexed my cramped fingers in Heather's tight gloves. Oooo, I could just scratch his eyes out!

Theether waved his hands to shush the crowd. Tolwyn put away his handkerchief and stepped back to the podium.

"Thank you, my brothers," he said. "I must leave shortly for the Lemma System, where I will rejoin the Vesuvius task force and return to Sol to deliver my report. But before I go, we have time for a few questions." Hands shot into the air. Tolwyn pointed to a Black Lancer in front. "Yes, brother?"

"Sir, your plan is brilliant, of course, and I look forward to enjoying the fruits of our struggle. But sir, will those fruits include...companionship?"

Tolwyn grinned. "I'm glad you brought that up. As you know, our own Lancettes have worked valiantly to fill that role, despite their limited numbers and biological shortcomings." He waved to the groupies, who giggled, waved, and blew kisses in return. "While I can't reveal the details at this time, suffice it to say that in the near future Theether and I plan to provide you with the most exquisite 'companions'...by the planetful!"

Woof woof woof woof!

That was all I needed. My trusty microcam held enough evidence to hang Tolwyn a dozen times over. I began edging unobtrusively toward the exit. It was my duty to get this information to the Dissembly and stop the killing. Besides, I still owned stock in Lu--

A hand grabbed my upper arm. Behind me, a grating voice said, "Just where do you think you're going, cutie?"

I froze in panic. Oh no, no, no! It was Lemonlips! He must have come with Tolwyn! Jesus Christ, God, what did I ever do to you?

He pinched my behind and I jumped. "All this talk of companionship has got me in the mood, baby," he cooed. He spun me around and brought his lips close to mine. "What do you say we--" He stopped in shock. "You!" he hissed.

Without thinking, I swung my purse up as hard as I could, catching him just under the chin. Clunk! His lights went out and he dropped to the deck. Thud!

In my best falsetto, I cried, "Vinny, you beast!" and ran off in a huff. Behind me, the Black Lancers shouted their approval.

"Haw haw! That's telling him, honey!"

"Atta girl, Heather!"

"Har har! That's how to handle a genetic mongrel, baby!"

As I left the hall, I heard Tolwyn calling out cheerily, "Catch you later! "followed by thunderous applause. Out in the corridor, I paused a moment to calm down. Lemonlips should be out long enough for me to reach my ship, so there was no need to arouse suspicion by hurrying. I forced myself to proceed at what I hoped was a leisurely pace.

Wheeee! Wheeee!

Oh shit, an alarm! The jig was up! I took off as fast as my aching feet could carry me in those damn high-heel boots. Fortunately, the corridors were still deserted. Damn, which way to the hangar? I should have left breadcrumbs or something. Let's see, first a left, then a right...

I rounded a corner at full speed and nearly collided with a guard. Luckily he was facing away from me. My heart in my mouth, I yanked my silenced stunpistol out of my purse, pressed the muzzle against his body armor, and fired.

Zap!

Shit, no effect! Maybe if I aimed between the body armor and the helmet...

The burly guard spun around. "What do you think you're doing, bitch?" he growled.

Panic, not necessity, is the mother of invention. I turned on my best southern belle simper and squeaked, "Oh, suh, ah hope y'all weren't hurt when mah little ol' pistol just shot by itself, all accidental-like! Silly ol' me, ah just never could get the hang of these thingies. Fiddle-dee-dee!" I fluttered my false eyelashes and acted all flustered.

The guard raised his visor and stared at me.

"Ah think there's somethin' all wrong with it," I continued, "but ah just cain't tell, all by mah lonesome. Could you-all take a look-see, hmm, you bighand some clever man, you?" I held up the pistol for his inspection.

Grinning like an idiot, the Black Lancer lowered his rifle and squinted down the barrel of my weapon.

Zap! Thud! He was out cold.

"Oooo," I squealed happily, "you fixed it!"

"Freeze, bitch!"

Yikes! Another guard behind me! I raised my hands and very carefully turned around. This one had his rifle aimed right between my eyes.

"Say your prayers, slut!" he gloated.

I closed my eyes and waited for death.

Thunk!

I opened my eyes.

The guard was still there, but he looked different somehow. It took me a moment to realize that the top of his helmet was now even with his shoulders. He remained upright an instant longer, then collapsed like a rag doll. Behind him, gripping her purse with both hands, stood Doctor Evvin Lee Boddie!

"One less pig in the galaxy!" she declared. "Come on, girlfriend, they're after me! Let's get out of here!" She grabbed my hand and dragged me down the corridor. "Can you fly one of their ships?" she asked.

I could only nod in reply. Not only was I still in shock from my narrow escape, but I was also fully under the spell of her supernatural beauty. It seemed my "Zelda immunity" was only temporary.

Dr. Boddie paused at the next intersection, peered around the corner, and quickly drew back. "Guards!" she hissed. She squeezed us into a small utility room three meters back down the corridor.

"Rats!" she gasped. "I thought I'd disabled that damn alarm!"

I had just enough wits left to remember to speak in falsetto. "YOU set off the alarm, Doctor?" Whew, they weren't looking for me after all!

She nodded. "That's right...Heather. I just couldn't go on. You see, they forced me to develop a bioweapon, one that turns people into--"

"Centerfolds. I know."

She looked surprised. "How did you-- Well anyway, they must have found out months ago that I'd already perfected the PAL process on women--"

"PAL?"

"I named it after the actress Pamela And--"

"I know who you mean." After all, who didn't know the Oscar-winning star of the classic action trilogy, "Barb Wire"/"Shane Link"/"Cindre Bloch?" She'd also starred in some series about timepieces... Wristwatch? Stopwatch?

"That's why they kidnapped me, Heather," explained Dr. Boddie. "I was brough there, set up with some stolen equipment, and forced to develop a PAL variant that's highly contagious and works on BOTH sexes! It was too horrible! So I saved my work on a data cartridge and wiped all the computer archives. I can't let them use PAL, even if it costs me my life!"

My God, she didn't know! As gently as I could, I told her. "Doctor, they've already used it...on a planet with over fifty thousand colonists. They have a bin full of PAL agent in the magazine. I'm...sorry."

Dr. Boddie stared at me in horror. "Oh God, no!" She buried her head in her hands. "I just wanted to be beautiful!" she sobbed. "I just wanted all the attention that girls like you take for granted, Heather!"

I fished a WipeX out of my purse. Dr. Boddie dried her tears and threw the tissue to the deck. "So I developed PAL and then I used it on myself," she continued bitterly, "That's when I learned the truth. Beauty isn't a blessing, it's a curse! All the attention I got was from PIGS, like that filthy Gant, these barbaric clone men, and that moron flyboy on the Lexington!"

Yeah, Maniac made quite an impres-- Say what? She was infected with PAL? I recoiled in terror. Oh God, I could feel it working on me already! I was shriveling! My nipples were tingling! I slumped against the wall. I couldn't breathe...

Dr. Boddie slapped my cheek. "Hey! Girlfriend! Get a grip, girl, I used the non-infectious form on myself! You're fine!"

"I am? I mean, of course I am! I knew it all the time, heh heh." I struggled to stand unaided. It was time I started acting like the Heart of the Heather--er, Tiger! "Come on, Doctor, we've got to get you to safety!"

She smiled at me and patted my cheek. "That's my girl!" Her eyes narrowed. "Hey, wait a nano! Heather, are you related to the guy from--"

"No, I'm not!" I opened the door a crack and peeked out. No one in sight!

We burst out of the utility room and raced for the magazine. A patrol almost spotted us on the next deck, but we made it safely to the space mine autobin, where we stopped for a rest.

Gasping for breath, Dr. Boddie stared at the pile of unconscious Black Lancers, including the real--and naked--Heather. "What the hell!" she exclaimed.

"Uh, beats me!" I lied. If she was so bitter toward men, I'd better keep up the pretense of being a woman until we were safely away--especially since I'd had a hand in her kidnapping. "Er, must be some kind of orgy, heh heh."

I stuffed my Union uniform into my purse--along with Heather's black silk panties, heh heh--and dragged Dr. Boddie to her feet.

"Go, er, girlfriend!" I urged. "Through that hatch at the end! I'll cover you!" I waited for her to get a head start, then followed. Yes! We were going to make--

Whoops! I took a misstep in my high heels and went sprawling. Dr. Boddie heard me and started back to help.

Just then a guard stepped out from behind a munitions bin. He was between us, closer to me. Dr. Boddie screamed and ran. I jumped to my feet and drew my stun pistol. Too late! The guard whirled and fired an autoburst at her. One of the blasts caught Dr. Boddie square in the back, and she went down.

"Noooo!" I screamed shrilly. I ran at the guard, firing like a madman. Zap! Zap! Zap! No effect against his armor! I tossed the useless weapon aside and gripped my purse in both hands. My opponent spun and brought up his rifle, but I was already on him. Thud! Thunk! Clunk! I bashed him senseless, then stood over his prostrate body and viciously kicked him in the groin. "I am Woman, pig! Hear me roar!"

I rushed to Dr. Boddie and knelt beside her. She was still alive! I dragged her behind a bin and propped her up against it. She shuddered and coughed up blood. Shit, she didn't have much time!

Dr. Boddie opened her eyes and painfully pointed to the pocket of her lab coat."Take this," she wheezed. "It's all my work...including...the PAL vaccine."

I fished out a data cartridge. "Vaccine? You finished it?"

She smiled weakly. "Didn't...tell them. They're still...waiting. Won't go near...that colony...without it." She coughed up more blood. "K-kiss me,Heather," she whispered. "Let me taste...a woman's lips...just once..."

I grabbed the breath freshener from Heather's purse and gave myself a spritz. After gently wiping away Evvin Lee's blood, I pressed my lips to hers. I tried to kiss her the way my Angel had kissed me in her tenderest moods.

"Mmmm," she sighed, when I drew back. "Soft...not like...a man..."

Yeah, not like-- Hey! I wasn't THAT soft!

Her head slumped onto her chest. She was gone.

Sick at heart, I closed her eyes and carefully laid her out on her back. That's another one I owe you, Tolwyn.

Time was running out. Expecting more guards at any minute, I sprinted for the service bay. A quick check...OK, the coast was clear. I changed into my own uniform, struggled into my flight suit, and vaulted into the cockpit.

I was nearly done with preflight when I heard footsteps on the ladder. A black visored helmet suddenly popped up next to me!

I slumped in resignation. So this is it, eh, God? You were just toying with me, weren't you?

The guard raised his visor and urgently tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, Gomer! You seen a knockout blonde biochemist running around here?"

Huh?

"Well? Did you?" he persisted.

Hesitantly, I replied, "Uhhh...yes?"

He quivered with eagerness. "Well quick, man, which way did she go?"

I gestured vaguely across the flight deck. "Er, that way?"

"Thanks, Gomer!" He slid down the ladder and took off like a rocket.

I shook my head, wondering if the G.E.D. program was really all it was cracked up to be. Judging by the imbeciles I'd met so far, it was just like any other government program: oversold, over budget, and underperforming!

As I taxied onto the flight deck, alarms began going off all around me. Guards and techs were pouring out of the service bays. No time for a textbook launch! I punched thrusters and aimed for the exit. The launch field lit my engines and catapulted me into space before anyone could deactivate it.

My scope came alive with contacts. One Dragon popped up in front of me at point blank range; I took him out with two IRs. Four more were coming up behind me, their pilots eager for the kill. I could race them to the jump point, of course, except that more Dragons were sure to be waiting for me there. No, I had to fight these guys here, and at four to one, I'd lose. They had me.

At least, that's what they thought. I smiled grimly. The "invincible" Black Lancers were in for a nasty surprise.

I cranked my Dragon up to full speed and hit autoslide.

*

At the Academy, I had always earned top grades in flight mechanics. Autoslide, however, had been developed years after I left school, and for some reason I could never quite grasp the physics behind it. Try as I might, the concept continued to elude me, no matter how hard I studied the subject.

In desperation, I even bugged Rachel about it one night after we had made love. After some coaxing, she grudgingly came fully awake and tried to explain it tome.

"You can't actually fly backwards in autoslide, Chris," she insisted. "Not really. In N-dimensional space, the ship is still pointing in the direction of travel." Then she launched into a lecture laced with hypermathematical equations. I'd taken math through transdimensional tachyonics, but her explanation left me in the dust.

Sensing my frustration, Rachel adopted a different approach. "Here, lover, let me give you an analogy." Smiling mysteriously, she moved closer.

"OK, Chris, let's say normal flight is like the way we usually make love...sort of like this..." She began moving slowly and rhythmically against me.

"Mmmmmmm, that's nice, Rachel." I liked "normal flight."

"Good. Then think of autoslide as making love..." She began to twist her body in a way I wouldn't have believed possible. "...like THIS!"

"Ohmygod!" I yelped. "Oooooooh! Aiyeee! Whoooo! Woweee!" As our minds and bodies exploded together into the twelfth dimension, comprehension dawned on me with the light of a thousand suns! For the first time in my life, I actually understood autoslide!

Unfortunately, the first time was also the last, because my hard-won knowledge didn't survive our climax. Forever after, autosliding would trigger bittersweet memories of a treasure found...and lost.

*

Autosliding at 500 kps, I flipped my Dragon to put my pursuers in my sights. I was just in time; they were already blazing away at me. Running away, however, I badly outranged my pursuers, and one by one I battered down their forward shields and forced them to break off.

The temporary respite was welcome, yet I couldn't relax. I had to keep them off balance, lest they mount a coordinated attack. They knew who I was by now, so I set the comm for full visual and hit them with my most sophisticated taunts.

"Nyah nyah! You ca-an't kill me!"

"Die, inferior!" retorted one Black Lancer. An edge of frustration was already in his voice.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Right on time. Two, three, FOUR missiles coming at me!I immediately activated cloak. Fired at angles of fifteen to twenty degrees from my autoslide path, the missiles had no hope of hitting me once they lost lock. I watched them pass harmlessly by, then decloaked.

"Hahaha!" I jeered. "Missed me, mutants! Niener niener niener!"

"Laugh while you can, monkey boy! You ARE the weaker!" The Black Lancerlaunched another missile at me.

"Die, inferior race!" This guy launched one, too.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! I yawned elaborately for their benefit, then cloaked again. This time two Lancers tried closing in while I was cloaked, but I uncloaked as soon as possible and beat them back with tachyons.

"Missed again!" I mocked. "Hey, Black Lancers! I bet in the sack you're just SLACK Lancers! Haha ha! Oh, I kill myself!"

"Aaaargh! Die, mongrel!"

Twice more they tried to close the range while I was cloaked, with the same result. Then I noticed one of them jockeying to fire his missiles directly along my flight path. At zero deflection, they'd hit me whether I cloaked or not.

Well, I was ready for that. I switched to fusion cannon and pressed the trigger. Target deflection: five degrees...four...three. Fusion charge: 50%...75%...100%. Two degrees, 125%...one degree, 150%...my Dragon was beginning to shudder with the strain of containing the supercharge...zero degrees! Whoom! A pair of ten-million-degree deuterium fireballs screamed back along my flight path. The fusion cannon were tricky to aim, but I was firing on a defined line of sight at zero deflection. I couldn't miss.

WHAM! The blast took out his shields and most of his forward armor. "Woohoo!" I crowed. "Give up, you bionic boobs?"

"Never! We ARE the stupider--er, the superior!"

For the next fifteen minutes I alternately taunted and blasted my pursuers. Driven by pride, yet increasingly frustrated by my tactics, they futilely fired missile after missile after me.

"Hey, gene boy!" I jeered. "You know you're ninety-nine percent chimpanzee? Heeheehee!" I silently thanked Taysti for that little item of biotrivia.

"Die, Neanderthal! Die! DIE!" Sheesh, the poor guy was practically in tears.

"Yo, Frankenstein!" I yelled. "They stuck yer dick on backwards! Ha ha, made you look!"

Another pilot was so pissed he could hardly talk. "Y-your mother was a m-monkey!"

"Oh yeah? YOUR mother was a test tube, and your father was a rubber! Hahaha!"

"Aaaargh!" He lit his burner and blazed right at me, only to walk into another fusion blast. WHAM! Kiss your port armor good-bye, you master disgrace!

I checked my AI, wincing again at Lemonlips' voice. Four targets, three with substantial armor damage, and all missiles fired. Time to turn the tables!

I punched the comm again. "You want a piece of me, super saps? Well, here I come!" I toggled autoslide off and fired two IRs at the nearest Dragon.

Caught by surprise, he cloaked too late to avoid the first missile. WHAM! I latched onto his tail while he was still recovering from the impact. Screech! Screech! He was a difficult target in cloak, but I closed in and lashed him again and again. Screech! Screech! KABOOM! Scratch one mutant!

I was still outnumbered, but my missiles more than evened the odds. In lessthan two minutes, the only surviving Black Lancer was fleeing for his life,pursued by my last IR. KABOOM!

"That's for Evvin Lee, you bastard!" I screamed.

I set my autopilot for the Axiom jump point and gratefully connected my relief kit. As I relaxed for the first time in hours, my thoughts turned to the pickets waiting for me up ahead. If I wanted to see Intrepid again, I'd better prepare something special for them.

*

It seemed the Black Lance was also looking forward to our next encounter; eight of them appeared on my scope while I was still skirting the last asteroid field before the jump point. They were arrayed in a rough hemisphere blocking me from my goal. Well, I expected no less.

A particularly fine specimen of the master race appeared on my comm screen.

"OK, Blair, we know it's you! You're out of missiles, runt, and we're ready for your little autoslide trick. So give up like a good little subhuman, and we may just give you a quick death!"

"Yeah," chimed in another. "There's no challenge in fighting you, primitive!"

Perfect. I took a moment to prepare myself, then replied in my best Br'er Rabbit dialect.

"Well, Br'er Lancer, looks lahk y'all gots me. If ah gots t' go, ah gots t'go. Ah'm jes' glad yo' ain't gwine t' do dat bad t'ing t' me!"

The sadistic Black Lancers were intrigued. "Oh yeah? What bad thing is that, ape-man?"

I had 'em! "Well, y'all kin do mos' anyt'ing t' me yo' wants...jes' as long as y'all don' chase me inta dat dere asteroid belt place, ober dere."

"Hah! Thanks, mongrel, don't mind if we do!" The Black Lancers quickly spread out to herd me in the direction of the asteroid field. I changed course to stay ahead of them, wobbling and wavering as if quivering with terror.

"Oh please, please, Br'er Lancer," I begged, "don' chase me dis way! Ah'm pow'ful 'fraid a' asp'roids! Ah'm agonna smash mahself fer sure! Please, please, jes' blast mah sorry ass, OK?"

"Not a chance, coward!"

"Hahahaha! Splatter, inferior!"

"Eat space rock, caveman!"

"One Neanderthal pancake coming up!"

OK, now for the best flying of my career. I searched the asteroids, looking desperately for the right combination--there! A large one, with a smaller one just going into eclipse behind it. I activated my fusion cannon and pressed the trigger. The charge began to build.

"Hahaha! The moron's gonna hit the biggest one in sight! What an inferior!"

I screamed with a fear that was only partly simulated. As if in panic, I hit reverse thrust, passed the big rock with a meter to spare, and headed straight for its orbiting companion. Now in the big rock's sensor shadow, I blasted the smaller one at point blank range. Heart in my throat, I prayed I'd deflected it enough-- Yes! I missed it by a hair's breadth! It tumbled out of its primary's sensor shadow with a glowing crater on its face. I shuddered to a stop, set engines to idle, and shut down all systems except passive sensors.

Having seen the flash and careening asteroid, my pursuers jeered in triumph.

"Hahahaha! The simian barely got into the belt!"

"What a dummy!"

"Not worth the energy from our blahsts!"

"Degenerate reflexes! Hahaha!"

"OK, well done, fellow supermen. Let's head back to base."

"Yeah, it's Miller time!"

I was getting their signals reflected from the surrounding rocks, but at this distance I could make them out clearly enough. I listened to their chatter for a while as they got further and further away. Presently, I stuck my nose out of the rock's EM shadow. Doppler on their transmissions indicated eight signal sources at max speed toward Black Lance HQ.

I could have waited, but I had to show up these arrogant bastards. I burst out from my cover and sprinted for the jump point on full afterburner, active sensors on max.

It didn't take long for the genetic geniuses to discover their mistake.

"Hey, wait! I got something on my scope!"

"Oh, shit, it's the prehuman! He's alive!"

"What? After him!"

They were chasing me on full burner, but my head start was insurmountable. At the jump buoy, I slowed to a crawl and commed them one last time. Thumbing my nose, I fired off my supreme taunt.

"Losers! Loooosers!! Loo-hoo-hoo-sers!!!" I flipped them a double bird and jumped.

*

Once in the Axiom System, I continued to monitor the jump point as I sped away. Surprisingly, there was no activity. Perhaps the Black Lance were too demoralized to pursue, or, more likely, they suspected an ambush on the Axiom side. In any case, the jump point remained quiet until it was out of sensor range.

I was numb with fatigue by the time I neared the Union task force. I was also hungry as hell, but I resisted the temptation to heat up one of my pizzas; a good meal would probably put me right to sleep. So I stoically ignored my stomach and tried to shut out the plaintive calls ("Eat me, Blair... I'm soooo good... Eeeeeeeat me...") from my tempting cargo.

I perked up when Intrepid appeared on my sensors. Not far now, Bl-- Hey! A transport! Shuttles were transferring cargo to Intrepid and her escorts. Shit, I risked my life to bring back some decent food, and now I was upstaged by that damned Admiral Willful!

Sosa's lovely face appeared on the comm. "Welcome back, Chris! I'm glad I don't have to light a candle for you. Did you find your answers?"

Again, I felt the stab of Tolwyn's betrayal. But something in Sosa's voice reached out to me, found the pain in my heart, and made it better.

"Y-yes I did, Velina. More than I bargained for. My God, it's good to see you! But hey, what's with the transport?"

"Oh. Union HQ sent us some replacement fighters and spare parts for the ships. No food, though. Sorry."

So I was going to be the hero after all. "That's OK, I've got pizza up the kazoo here."

Lt. Homes' face appeared on the comm. "Did somebody say PIZZA?" My AI identified the source as one of Intrepid's shuttles. "Damn, Colonel, we're starving here, and we won't be back on Intrepid for a couple of hours!"

Poor guys. "OK, Churlokk. Let's join up and I'll toss you a pak."

"Now you're talkin'!"

I reduced speed and set the autopilot. While the shuttle matched velocities, I made sure my flight suit and cockpit were ready for vacuum. I popped the canopy, pulled out a pizzapak, and prepared to frisbee it over to the shuttle. Homes' copilot was standing in the open hatch, ready to catch it.

"Here, let me nuke it for you," I offered. I punched the heater button and let fly. It was a perfect toss. As the spinning pizzapak neared the shuttle, it began to vibrate...

Something was wrong! The pizzapak suddenly veered off course and fixed itself to the hull of the shuttle. Its vibration increased until it was nearly invisible.

"Eeyaahahahaha!" Hysterical laughter from the shuttle! OHMYGOD! They were being tickled! The "pizzapak" was really a ticklepak!

Whoosh! Homes ejected from the cockpit. The copilot, though nearly helpless with laughter, managed to disengage his mag grapples and float free of the shuttle. The ship continued on course, now vibrating visibly itself.

Another shuttle was already approaching to retrieve the drifting survivors, but I was too shaken to follow the rescue. All I could think of was the forty-odd ticklepaks stashed all over my fighter. One hit from the Black Lance could have set them off and sent me to a hilarious death! And now I had to land with them still on board! Intrepid's landing field was notoriously glitchy...

Trembling uncontrollably, I carefully got back into my seat and closed the canopy. As I began final approach, I was tempted to pray, but I suspected it would be useless. God was probably too busy laughing his damn head off.

*

When I finally came to a stop in my service bay, I didn't wait for the ladder. I popped the canopy and leaped over the side as if the cockpit were infested with cobras. I picked myself up off the deck and carefully backed away.

Whoops! I nearly bumped into Zelda. I whirled and grabbed her shoulders.

"Zelda! Don't go near that fighter! It's loaded with--"

She patted my cheek reassuringly. "I know, Chris. I saw what happened to the shuttle. It's OK, we'll be careful." She smiled sympathetically. "My poor wonderful Blairbear! You thought it was pizza, and you were saving it all for us. I love you, dearest!"

Under her caresses, my fear vanished. Grateful beyond words, I grabbed her in a bear hug and smothered her face with kisses. Boy, was I glad to see her!

"Heehee! Easy, Blairbear!" she squealed. "Down boy! Eeeee, that tickles! Heel!" When I finally released her, she had to catch her breath before she could speak.

"Whew! Rough mission, Honeyblair?"

I wiped my forehead and nodded wearily. "Zelda, it was one of the longest--" Thinking back on the mission, I had a sudden inspiration. Zelda knew as much about autoslide as Rachel, right? "Say, Zelda? You think you could explain autoslide to me some time? Er, without the math?"

Her smile grew bigger. "Sure I can, lover. Here, let me give you an analogy. "She started to unzip her coveralls.

I hastily grabbed her hand to stop her. "Er, no, never mind," I said, my eyes on the grinning techs around us. "I just remembered I have to, ah, help Maniac with his, er, French lessons." Ignoring the disappointment on Zelda's face, I hurried off to the Wombat locker room. Jeez, was that how they taught autoslide in tech school?

Behind me, I heard Barr exclaim, "Hey, Zelda! You have lipstick all over your face!"

End of Chapter 27

Previews from Chapter 28:

"Sir, we can't let this thing be used again! We just can't!"

"If Tolwyn makes it to Earth ahead of us, full-scale civil war is inevitable."

"No, Hulk! We can't use terror weapons!"

"I guess betrayal has become a habit with you, hasn't it...renegade?"

Chapter 28

In the locker room, I hastily doffed my flight suit and cleaned the makeup off my face. Then I slipped into the Wombat ready room and uploaded my microcam rec of Tolwyn's speech. I omitted the rest; my disguise, for example, wasn't, er, relevant, heh heh. Queue, Maniac, Hulk, and Panties came in just as I was finishing my upload.

Queue wasted no time. "What did you find, Colonel?" he asked.

"All the answers, Ike," I replied. "Remember the G.E.D. program I told you about? Well, guess who's behind it." I activated the holodisplay. They watched, fascinated, as Tolwyn proudly exposed his diabolical plan.

When it was over, Queue slapped his forehead. "So it was Tolwyn all along. Damn! Why didn't we see it?"

I shrugged. "Their security was so tight, even the Black Lancers didn't know who their leader was. Except for that thug, Theether. You were right about him, Hulk."

Hulk stared at me. "Hulk do something right? Hulk celebrate! Er, how Hulk celebrate? Hmm..." The giant was soon lost in, er, not exactly thought...

Maniac piped up, "Well, I knew it was Tolwyn all along! I always said there was something fishy about that guy, Ace, but you were always too busy sucking up to him to listen!"

Flea excrement. "Maniac, you dunce, you kissed his ass every chance you got! On the Victory, you even shined his shoes, for Christ's sake!"

"Hey!" he retorted. "I was just tryin' to get close enough to expose him, Ace!"

"Maniac, the only thing you ever exposed was your ignor--"

"The question," interrupted Panties, "is what do we do now? Tolwyn's on his way to Earth to report to the Dissembly, and I don't think he'll recommend we all get together and have tea. Once the Dissembly votes for war, nobody will listen to us, no matter what evidence we present."

Hulk's eyes lit up. "Hulk know! Hulk celebrate by leading Union fleet toTheorem! Smash Black Lance! Huh-huh! Huh-huh!"

Yikes! "Down, Hulk!" I said hastily. "They're too strong! We'll need a joint Union-Confed force and lots more of our own Dragons! No, we'll just have to get our data to Earth ahead of Tolwyn. Unfortunately, Vesuvius is faster than we are. I need ideas, people."

Ike reached for the remote and brought up a display of the star systems between the Pythagoran Cluster and Sol. In one corner, he added the specs of the TCS Vesuvius. The computer then projected a jump route leading from Lemma to Sol.

"Hah!" exclaimed Panties. She grabbed the remote, added the specs for Intrepid and her escorts to the display, and projected a second jump route, this time from Axiom. "See?" she said triumphantly. "Vesuvius is too big for the Ellie Mae jump. She'll have to go the long way 'round!"

I was confused. "Too big? What, jump points come in sizes now?"

Panties rolled her eyes. "No, dummy! Ellie Mae is only zoned for ships under ten million tons, and the cops there are the toughest in Confed. Admiral squeaky-clean Tolwyn won't tarnish his image with a traffic ticket on the eve of his big speech."

"So we can beat Vesuvius to Sol," I said. "Brilliant!"

"Not so fast, Colonel," cautioned Ike. "I see two itsy bitsy problems with this little scheme. One: There's a Confed fleet base in the Ellie Mae System; that place has enough warships and fighters to annihilate a fleet ten times our size. Two: Even if we get through Ellie Mae, if Vesuvius gets close enough to launch a strike, we've had it! We're no match for its fighter wings!"

I waved my hand impatiently. "Details, details! Maniac, go tell Lt. Pilotte to make it so--er, to get us to the Ellie Mae System. Oh, and warn Sosa NOT to inform Union HQ. I don't want this to leak out."

As Maniac left the ready room, he passed Zelda coming in. He gave her the finger, and she retaliated by sticking out her tongue at him.

"And keep your hands off Lt. Pilotte!" I added, as he disappeared. "Hi, Zelda. What's up?"

Zelda loaded a data cartridge into the holo, took the remote, and brought up a diagram in the display. I instantly recognized the Black Lance terror weapon.

"We put one of your little 'pizzapaks' under our scanners, Colonel," she began. "It's a beautiful design. Some genius took an ordinary self-heating sonic pizzapak, replaced the payload with tuner, amplifiers, and souped-up power source, and came up with the perfect terror weapon: minimal development, negligible production costs, effective against the largest ship or base, horrific effects, and adjustable to any target life form."

"ANY life form?" asked Hulk in dismay. "Even rabbits?"

"Er, yes," replied Zelda. "Even, uh, rabbits."

"Black Lance evil!" exclaimed Hulk. "Hulk hurt Black Lance! Maim! Mutilate! Destroy! Mang--"

"Easy, Hulk, easy," soothed Ike. "Colonel, what about bioweapons? Was the Black Lance behind the genocide in Telefon?"

Careful, Blair. Remember your promise to the colonists. "Uh, yeah. That biochemist I told you about? She was forced to develop a...a bioselect agent to, uh, weed out all but the genetically fit. Planet 36-24-36 was a test, but it, ah, failed--killed the whole population, including the 'fit.'"

Panties was indignant. "So that's what Tolwyn meant by 'companions!' Women who survived that scientist's unnatural selection! That bitch!"

I shook my head. "No, Panties, a hero. She destroyed her work, and then she saved my life when a guard had me cornered. She died helping me escape." I unconsciously touched my lips. "She kissed me...good-bye..."

"Must have been some kiss," observed Zelda dryly. "You smeared her lipstick all over me!"

"Er, yeah. Sorry. Heh heh."

*

As I left the ready room, my parrot fluttered onto my shoulder.

"Rawwk! Welcome back, sweetie! Awwk!"

I ruffled her feathers affectionately. Since my winged friend had taken to roosting on the hangar deck, I had seen far too little of her.

"Hi yourself, sweetie." I nuzzled her beak with my nose. "Hon, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. You were right: it was Tolwyn all the time."

"Toldya! Toldya! Heehee! Rawwk! Blair is an asshole!"

"Er, yeah. But hey, how did you know about Tolwyn and Chastity?"

"Amnesty! Rawwk! I'll be good! Awwk! Pretty Chastity!"

Aha! Her master had been in Tolwyn's Amnesty Program! Pirates recruited for the Kilrathi War, granted amnesty afterward. Over the last two years, Tolwyn must have discretely steered many of his "reformed" wards into new pirate bands controlled by the Black Lance.

"You know, kiddo," I said admiringly, "for a birdbrain, you're pretty smart."

"Rawwk! You, too! Heehee!"

*

I was trembling with fatigue after my long mission to Theorem, but I had an obligation to stop by sick bay before hitting the sack. I had nearly killed two of my own people--inadvertently, of course--and I owed them an apology.

Fortunately, they were well on the road to recovery. Forceps had been treating them with muscle relaxants, which seemed to alleviate the lingering tickle symptoms. I found Lt. Homes and his copilot, Lt. Gardens, in good spirits. I grabbed a chair and sat down between their beds. Patting Homes on the shoulder, I said cheerfully, "So, Churlokk, how does it feel to be the only known survivors of a ticklepak attack?"

Homes grinned at me. "Pretty good, sir. Except for the--" He shivered visibly. "--Hee hee!--except for the residual spasms. Forceps says they'll pass in a few more hours. Damn, sir, that's a diabolical weapon! I think I'd rather go any other way than that."

Gardens agreed heartily. "Homes is right, sir. If I hadn't managed to release my grapples--Hee hee!--I'd have popped my suit for sure!"

Homes reached out and grabbed my arm. "Sir," he said earnestly. "When we recovered the bodies from the Annabel Lee... Well, that was bad enough, but now that I know exactly what they went through... Sir, we can't let this thing be used again! We just can't!"

I patted his hand. "I'm sorry I put you through it, Churlokk. Nobody will ever have to suffer a tickle-tack again, not if I have anything to say about it."

Forceps stuck his head through the hatch. "Time's up, kid. These two need their rest." He disappeared again.

I said my good-byes and joined Forceps outside the ward. He waved his clipboard at me. "Just goin' over that report again, kid, the Eisen brought from yer medic friend on the Lex. Her analysis of the ticklepak effects was right on the mark. Good thing, too; saved me some time findin' the proper treatment fer yer pals in there."

Yeah, Disch was one smart cookie, all right. I'd always regret losing her, though, to be honest, I'd never really had--Ohmygod! She'd been in Tolwyn's clutches for weeks now! She and the rest of my friends on the Lex! Jesus, what had be been doing to them? What HADN'T he been doing to them?

Forceps suddenly looked at me with concern. "Hey, kid, you all right? Ya look like ya just saw a ghost."

I yanked myself back to reality. The best way to help my friends was to nail Tolwyn. "Uh, I'm OK, Forceps. This T-pak thingie, any way to neutralize it? If the Black Lance ambushes us on the way to Sol, you can bet they'll use it."

Forceps shook his head. "Medically, no. It exploits a fundamental biological weakness. I suggest ya ask yer grease monkey pal; this is a job for techs, not medics. But never mind that now, kid. Yer out on yer feet. Get some rest, or I'll have to sedate ya. Doctor's orders!"

I yawned involuntarily. "OK, Mommy." Mmmm, I could just feel myself curling up in my bunk...

*

I made my way to the storage hold in a half-trance, bouncing off bulkheads and bunks and getting myself tangled up with protruding arms and legs. Ah, my favorite bed was just ahead...

Fudge, it was occupied! Somebody had draped a couple of blankets from the upper bunk to make a kind of privacy curtain around the lower one. A uniform was folded neatly under the bunk. Disappointed, I turned to look for another spot.

"And just where do you think you're going, Chris?"

Panties!

I turned around. Panties was lying in "my" bunk, holding the "curtain" aside with one hand. With the other, she held the bedclothes over her chest; it was obvious she had nothing on underneath. Her hair was down, and although it covered her cute elfin ears, she was just as lovely as I had dreamed in CIC.

I swallowed hard. "Er, I saw the, uh, bunk was occupied, Tamara."

She grinned at me. "It's only half-occupied, hero. Now get in here. I went to a lot of trouble making this little love nest!"

After making sure the coast was clear, I undressed, stowed my clothes, and slipped into Panties' hidden retreat. To tell the truth, I was somewhat apprehensive; exhausted as I was, I was certain to disappoint her.

It turned out, however, that Tamara was as tired as I. We kissed and caressed a little, and then with a sigh, she snuggled up to me with her head on my arm and closed her eyes. I gently ran my hand up and down her back until her breathing grew deep and even. Then I settled down to sleep myself, enjoying the faint scent of jasmine from her hair.

Oddly, sleep wouldn't come at first. My thoughts kept returning to the Black Lance, and the alarming discoveries I had made at their base. Knowing what I knew, I could never rest easy again until Tolwyn and his minions were safely behind bars. On the other hand, I finally had enough evidence to put them there, and that knowledge eased my mind enough for me to fall asleep at last.

Still, even as I drifted off, I couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that while I slept, they'd be waiting.

*

"Wake up, sir! Trouble! Again!"

I moaned softly. Goddammit, why did Eisen always send Catnip to wake me up? Why not Sosa or Panties or Zelda? At least they'd be more considerate--

I awoke with a start and looked around in confusion. All was quiet. So where was Catnip? Wait, wasn't he dead? Oh, shit, it was another bad dream.

I lay back in the darkness of our secluded love nest. I could feel Panties behind me, back against mine, breathing softly. Thank goodness my nightmare hadn't disturbed her. I relaxed, feeling her tiny movements as she breathed, savoring the delicate fragrance of roses wafting from her. Er, roses? Funny, I could swear I'd smelled jasmine when I fell asleep.

What time was it? Rats, my watch was under the bunk. I reached down and felt around on the deck. Hmm, I thought I left it right about--

Yikes! I recoiled as my fingers touched something cold, wet, and slimy! What could-- Then I grinned to myself. Reaching back down, I found it again...Yeah, just a condom. I tried to think back... Hmm, I vaguely recalled a dream in which I'd been making love to Angel...except it must have been Panties in real life. Rats, what if she brought it up later? She'd sure be pissed if I couldn't remember the details. Think, Blair!

Meanwhile, I continued searching for my elusive watch. When I felt something hard and round, I thought at first I'd found it. Then I realized it was plastic, not metal. Curious, I fingered the strange object, trying to figure out--Uh-oh! Glasses!

With a feeling of dread, I reached behind me and explored my bunkmate, softly so as not to disturb her. Back, bottom, and hips could belong to Tamara, but when I was unable to find her breasts, I knew for sure it was Sosa. Some time during the "night," Tamara and Velina must have switched places. But I'd found only one condom. So which woman had I...?

I cursed myself silently. Some lover I was! Too tired to keep my women straight! I should stick to something easy, like fighting supermen!

*

I checked on operations in CIC and the Control Bay, then headed for the galley. By good luck, I ran into Lt. Pilotte on her way to CIC for her watch. I stopped her with the Official Battlecruiser 4000 AD Secret Wink and took her aside.

"Say, Skye," I said casually, "I understand you have just about every BC 4K accessory there is. Is that right?"

"Right, sir!" she declared proudly. "Er, except the game itself. The release date has been pushed back ag--"

"That's OK. I was just wondering if you had..." I leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

She broke into a grin. "Oh yes, sir! I have two! I'd be honored if you'd accept one as a gift, sir! You've done so much for us all, er, Chris."

I smiled back. "Thanks, Skye. Um, carry on." Whistling to myself, I continued on my way. The next time Panties and Hulk got into an argument...Heh heh heh.

In the galley, I got some tasteless breakfast and found a seat by myself. The holovid was showing a repeat of the latest Nightly News, which recently had been devoting more and more coverage to the imminent Dissembly debate over the declaration of war with the Union. I was mildly interested to learn that Barbara Dahl herself would be reporting from the Dissembly floor. She had interviewed me once by commlink when I joined the Victory, but now I had a chance to meet her in person--if I survived the voyage to Earth, that is.

Our chances would be greatly improved if we could find a defense against the Black Lance ticklepak. I decided to stop by Zelda's workshop and see if she--Whoops! Speak of the devil!

"Hi, Blairbear!" Zelda set her tray down and sat down opposite me. I was pleased to find two cans of fruit juice--real juice that I'd "liberated" in Theorem--on the tray.

"Here, honeybunch," said Zelda, handing me a can of grapefruit juice. "I put the rest in a safe place." She shook her head in amazement. "You know, Blairbear, I think you found storage space on that fighter that even the designers don't know about. Took me an hour to find the whole stash." She pointed to the can of juice still on her tray. "Er, may I?"

"What's mine is yours, hon," I replied. "Just save the banana nectars for Primate; I'm out of fruit. Cheers." I popped my own can and drained half in one gulp. Ah, what a great way to wash down the last of that awful breakfast!

Zelda reluctantly began attacking her food. "By the way, Chris," she said, eyeing an unpromising spoonfull of "yogurt delight." "While you were on your mission to Theorem, I checked out the optics on our Dragons." She stuck the spoon in her mouth, made a face, and swallowed. "Ugh. Er, my techs are modifying our Banshee optics to the same specs. They'll still be outclassed, of course, but at least they won't be blind against the Dragons."

"Wonderful, Zelda! What would we do without you?" I'd been wanting to form our Dragons into a squadron for the last two days, but I'd been forced to keep them on CAP, lest we fall prey to cloaked Black Lancers. Now I could replace them with Banshees. "Hon, you've worked miracles for us, and I hate to ask for another one..."

She smiled. "But..."

"But our lives may depend on it," I continued. "Zelda, do you have any idea how we can defeat the Black Lance ticklepaks? If they catch us, and even one gets through our defenses, we've had it."

"Actually, Honeyblair," she said thoughtfully, "I've been considering that problem ever since you brought those things back from Theorem. I think I may have a solution." She set down her spoon--gratefully--and started drawing on her napkin. "OK, here's a T-pak stuck to a ship's hull, and these wiggly lines are the killer sonic vibrations." She then drew a second ticklepak at another location on the hull, its sonic waves colliding with the first one's. "Now in theory, if a second pak is tuned so its vibes are exactly out of phase..."

"Then they'll interfere and cancel each other out!" I concluded. "Why, that's brilliant, Zelda!"

"Whoa, Chris!" she cautioned. "It's not that simple in practice. The second pak is sending the same harmonics, so it has to monitor the primary's output closely and adjust accordingly, or it'll just make things worse. Even then, the 3D geometry of the target will leave danger zones."

I dismissed her objections with a shake of my head. "It's still better than nothing. Can you start right away?"

"Um, sure." She made no move to leave, however. It took me a moment to realize that she probably had something else on her mind. Something personal.

"Was there something else, hon?" I prompted.

She took a deep breath. "I talked to Colonel Farnsworth a little while ago. Now that she and Lieutenant Sosa have had, er, their turns, I was wondering if we could spend some time together. We could discuss...autoslide..."

I shuddered. "Er, autoslide may be a bit, ah, intense, hon. In fact, I have to warn you, the way things are going, you might not get much, um, action at all." Hey, if Panties had talked to Zelda, maybe she could help me with my problem! "Say, Zelda, did Panties go into, um, details?"

"No." Zelda leaned closer to me. "Why, Blairbear?" she asked eagerly. "Did you two do something really kink--er, special? Tell me, tell me!"

"Uh, heh heh, wouldn't you like to know, Zelda!" So would I! "Heavens, is that the time? I gotta go talk to my pilots! SeeyoulaterZelda!"

I dumped my tray and hurriedly left the galley. Good grief, how did I get myself into these messes?

*

I ran into Lt. Mourne on my way to the Control Bay, and had her pass the word for a full wing assembly in one hour. That gave me enough time to peruse the records of our Dragon flight training and pick out the best candidates for the new Dragon squadron.

We met in service bay ten. As my people assembled, I walked among them, making jokes, shaking hands, or just sharing small talk. After all our ordeals together, now, on the eve of our greatest test, we were like family--a small family, unfortunately, and getting smaller all the time. I tried not to think about the missing faces.

When everyone was present, I took my place in front of them. I nodded to Barr, who was setting up a two-way holovid to the CAP and our escorts. While he got ready, I took a moment to look over my command. Some were sitting on the deck or on toolboxes, others were kneeling or standing. Techs and pilots alike were dirty and tired, but whether rookie or veteran, they all had the hard edge of men and women tempered by combat. Good.

When Barr signaled that the commlink was working, I addressed the wing.

"Good day, everyone. By now you all know what we're up against, and what we have to do next. If Tolwyn makes it to Earth ahead of us, full-scale civil war is inevitable."

I paused a moment to let that sink in. "Fortunately," I continued, "I believe we have an excellent chance of getting our evidence to the Dissembly in time. This will most likely involve the heaviest fighting we've seen yet, so we have to prepare. Now Zel--er, Chief Morgenstern--tells me we're down to only four flyable Vindicators, and they're held together with Krazy Glue and lasagna. Since we won't be flying any more planet missions, I'm going to disband Turkey Squadron. In its place, we'll have a new squadron of Dragons."

I waited for the buzz of excitement to die down. "I'll be the C.O. of Dragon Squadron. Primate will take over Wombat--"

"Excuse me, sir!" Panties was waving her hand. "'Dragon' Squadron? In the Militia, it's traditional for personnel to name their own units."

Oh, Christ, here we go again. That explained the idiot names of Intrepid's conventional squadrons. Border Worlders! "Uh, well, Panties, did you have another name in mind?"

"Uh-huh!" she replied. "How about 'Puff' Squadron--for Puff the Magic Dragon. Get it? Dragon?"

"Yeah!" agreed Hulk. "Hulk like Puff Squadron!" Several other pilots shouted their approval.

Gimme a break. "Puff Squadron?" I scoffed. "Shit, Panties, that makes us sound like a bunch of silly gir--" Noting the sudden scowl on her face, I hastily corrected myself. "--er, wimps! No, we'll just stick with--"

"I like PUFF squadron!" yelled Louise. Others came to her support.

"Yeah! Puff squadron! We hit and disappear in a puff of smoke! Poof!"

"Hey, watch 'em run when we roar our name! PUFF! PUFF!"

"We'll flame 'em with a PUFF of our mighty breath! We BAD!"

Panties raised her hand. "All in favor of PUFF Squadron!"

"AYE!" chorused the wing, with one deafening voice.

"Opposed?"

"Me, dammit!" I yelled. "And I'm the Wing Com--"

"The ayes have it!" shouted Panties. She folded her arms and regarded me smugly. "Please, do carry on, Colonel."

Bitch. "All right, all right!" I conceded. "Puff Squadron--ugh--it is. "I consulted my clipboard, to which I'd attached my pilots' qualifying scores. "OK, the following pilots are assigned to Dra--er, Puff--Squadron: Hulk, Lovey, Dovey, Rubberpucky--"

"RubberDUCKY!"

"--Panties... Um, Excell, you're qualified for Puff Squadron, but with Panties gone, I need you to lead the Gophers."

"No problem, sir!" said Excell cheerfully. "The Banshee's more my style anyway. I like my fighters the way I like my men: fast and loo--"

"Er, yes, thank you, Excell. OK, next is Lt. Homes. Congratulations, Churlokk. Not bad for a former shuttle pilot."

Homes beamed back at me. "Thank you, sir." Lt. Tennant gave him a big hug.

"Ahem. Next: Castor, Pollux, front and center!"

Second Lieutenants "Castor" Hoyle and "Pollux" Bollocks scrambled out of the assembly and snapped to attention in front of me.

"You two are both promoted to First Lieutenant and assigned to Puff Squadron. Congratulations, gentlemen."

"Thank you, sir!" they chorused. They saluted me and hustled back into the crowd, where their friends thronged around them.

"OK!" I said, when the activity died down. "Wing exercises in one--"

Maniac flung his hand into the air. "Hey, Ace!" he exclaimed. "You're SHORT one pilot in Puff Squadron!"

I leafed through the papers on my clipboard, feigning confusion. "Er, no, Maniac, I don't think--"

"Well, you are!" he declared. "Hey, who the hell do you think had the highest qualifying score, anyway?"

"Um, I don't have that, er, information, Major Mar--"

"Oh yes you do! I'M top scorer, Mr. WING Commander, sir! I belong in Puff Squadron!"

I was trapped. Besides, Maniac had actually been behaving himself since I'd started blackmailing him. "OK, OK! You're in Puff Squadron. Tex, you take Maniac's place as Skunk C.O."

The Skunks exchanged grins and high fives. In contrast, the new members of Puff Squadron looked at each other in dismay.

Maniac wasn't finished. "That's not all, Ace. I should be the Puff C.O. because--"

"Don't push your luck, Maniac!" I growled. "OK! Wing exercises in one hour. Squadron commanders report to me for instructions! Dismissed!"

*

"Earthworm, you are cleared to land." Sosa was smiling, something she hadn't done much since we'd lost Catnip. "And that was some pretty nifty flying out there, Chris!"

I searched her face, but I could discern no clues about our last sleepover. Damn. I forced a smile. "Thanks, Velina. Earthworm out." With a sigh, I gave up. If Tamara or Velina brought up the subject, I'd just have to beg for mercy.

At least the drills had gone well. We'd started with a series of mock torpedo attacks on the task force, with Wombat, Gopher, and Skunk Squadrons on offense, Puff Squadron on defense. Simulating Confed fighters, our Banshees used their standard optics. At first our outnumbered Dragons had been overwhelmed, but as their pilots learned to make the best use of their cloaks, they quickly gained the upper hand. Puff Squadron handily repulsed the last torpedo attack, even with our escorts' fighters joining the attackers. In fact, it was downright scary to see how badly the Black Lance's birds outclassed our own.

In the second series of exercises, we had tried to protect the task force from an assault by Puff Squadron, which was armed with dummy ticklepaks. Using the new optics, our Banshees inflicted severe losses on the attackers, but the Dragons always managed to launch at least one or two of their deadly weapons. When Intrepid had been "killed" for the fourth time in a row, I gave up and ordered everyone home. If the Black Lance caught us, Zelda's "cancelpaks" would have to be our last line of defense.

I'd been trying all along to find a way to Earth that wouldn't imperil my comrades; the drill results only reinforced my resolve. I had come up with a workable plan, except that the impetuous Border Worlders would never go along with it if they knew what it involved. That meant I had to keep them in the dark until the last minute. Or, to put it another way, I was going to repay their trust and loyalty with deceit and betrayal.

Shit.

*

Climbing down the ladder from the cockpit, I found myself wishing Zelda wasn't so busy; by now I was so used to her warm welcomes that I wanted her there even after routine flights. This time, my wish came true; as soon as I touched the deck, I felt hands covering my eyes and heard a familiar voice in my ear.

"Guess who, Blairbear!"

I smiled, rejoicing in her touch. "Uh, Mary? Diana? Susie? Deb--"

I felt a sharp swat on the behind. I turned and found Zelda nursing her hand. Gallantly, I took it and pressed my lips to it. "Oh, sorry, Zelda. And after you did such a good job adapting those Banshee optics, too."

"I'll live," she said, her hand squeezing mine. "As for the optics, I didn't exactly do all the work myself..."

"Oh, sure, you've got a great crew of techs, too!"

"Er, yeah, but they didn't do all the work, either."

"Oh? Oh! Your 'faeries' again?"

"Uh-huh. I knew we'd never have all our Banshees converted before the Ellie Mae jump, snookums. So while you were, er, sleeping, I had my techs 'donate' the last of their stashes, put some food in each bird, and sealed the service bays. A few hours later, the job was done. I'm afraid it's the last time, though. I don't think there's another stash of real food anywhere on the ship. Except your fruit juice, of course, and the, uh, faeries have never been interested in drinks."

"OUR fruit juice," I corrected. I scratched my head. "Well, maybe we can think of something else they want. Anyway, thanks for meeting me after the drills, hon, it was--"

"Hey, Ace! Quit fraternizing with the hired help and do your job!"

Oh, hell. Mr. Perfect Timing again. This time he had Hulk and Panties with him. All three were still in their flight suits.

Ignoring Maniac's mocking tone, I tried to keep my voice even. "What's up,people?"

"Our curiosity, Colonel," answered Panties. "You see, we're less than an hour from the Ellie Mae jump point. Confed's spread pretty thin here in Jethro, but Sosa's been intercepting a lot of comm traffic; they've sent couriers ahead to warn Ellie Mae of our approach. So don't you think it's about time we figured out what we're going to do after the jump? Hmm?"

OK, Blair, look confident. "I already know, Panties. You see, I have a plan."

Panties groaned. Maniac put his hand to his forehead and moaned, "Oh shit! Not another one!" Even Hulk winced.

Doubters! Sternly, I retorted, "I find your lack of faith...disturbing! Just for that, I'm not calling the briefing until AFTER the jump! Now, dismissed!"

They grumbled, but they left without objection. Zelda, however, wasn't buying it. When the others were out of earshot, she spun me around to face her.

"All right, Blair! You may fool them, but you can't fool me! You're planning another solo mission, aren't you? And this time you're not coming back! Dammit, Chris, can't you see? We're all in this together!"

Oh, shit, how did she know me so well? Damn, she'd spoil everything!

"Zelda," I said hastily, "you once said you believed in me. Believe in me now, and keep your damn mouth shut! OK?" Then I walked away, cursing myself for wishing her there in the first place.

*

I was in CIC for the jump to the Ellie Mae System. Our Banshees and Dragons were ready for immediate launch, but I had no intention of using them. If my plan worked, the Intrepid task force had fought its last battle. My only problem would be breaking the news to my subordinates. Well, for that I had Skye's present, currently hidden under a towel on the briefing table.

I sat at the nav console, absorbing some last-minute information about the Ellie Mae fleet base. Near the end of the Kilrathi War, when it looked like mankind would be making a last stand at Earth, the President of the Dissembly, Senator Papillon, had rammed through an emergency appropriations bill; its purpose was to build an impregnable fortress in the Proxima System, the gateway to Sol. Unfortunately, it wasn't completed until after the War had already been won. However, Senator Papillon, capitalizing on the anxiety provoked by the War, had turned the "Papillon Project" into the most immense pork barrel program in history. Four more bases were built in quick succession before the Senator, implicated in ever-widening financial scandals, resigned in disgrace. The last of the bases, Papillon 5, was waiting for us in Ellie Mae, four jumps from Sol.

I pulled the service record of the station's current commander, Captain Don Sheraton. He was a good man: during the War, his destroyer had single-handedly taken out one of the cats' Byeerbelli class cruisers. Yes, finding a fighting man in charge of the base was good omen. Smiling, I secured the console and turned my attention to our jump preparations.

The hyperjump was a bit bumpy; our jump engines had never quite recovered from the extended jumps to and from Telefon. Nevertheless, we made it through OK. On the other side, I launched a four-ship Banshee CAP and ordered the rest of the wing to stand down.

Lt. Sosa relayed the order, then looked at me quizzically. "Er, Colonel?" she ventured. "Comm intercepts show a Confed fleet two hours ahead of us at this speed, and another closing in behind us. They'll be launching fighters soon. Shouldn't we keep the wing on alert?"

I smiled at her confidently. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I know what I'm doing." Her answering smile was so full of trust that I had to turn away, guilt eating away at my guts.

*

Nearly half an hour into the Ellie Mae system, I finally called the briefing. I waited patiently while Hulk, Panties, and Maniac filed into CIC. Sosa was the last to join us at the briefing table.

Panties couldn't wait for me to begin. "OK, Colonel, no more delays! We have a Confed fleet ahead of us, one behind, and a third en route from the base. So what's this brilliant plan of yours?"

"Hulk know! Hulk know!" Hulk was eagerly waving his hand in the air. "Blair use T-paks on Confed! Easy victory! Tickle Confed fancy! Huh-huh!"

Panties stomped on Hulk's right foot. "No, Hulk! We can't use terror weapons! Thousands of innocents would die horribly! That would be inhuman!"

She turned from Hulk and appealed to me. "You're going to backhand them, aren't you, Colonel? Ambush the fighters with Puff Squadron, then take out their cap ship fleets one at a time! They've split their forces, which gives us--"

"NO!" roared Hulk. "Lose too many fighters! Must conserve strength for Vesuvius and escorts! Thousands die from ticklepaks, but millions die if war comes!"

Panties whirled on him again, all her anxieties and frustrations coming to ahead. "You bloodthirsty imbecile! You'd gut your own mother for kicks!"

I had never seen Hulk so angry, not even when Maniac had insulted his friend Melek. "Panties leave Mommy out of this!" He grabbed her by the throat and drew back his immense fist.

Damn those two! Fast as lightning, I whipped my weapon out from under the towel, leveled it at the two antagonists, and barked, "All right, freeze!"

Panties ceased her fruitless struggles and looked at me. Then she looked at my weapon. Then she burst out laughing.

"Whahahaha! You think a squirt gun is gonna stop us, Colonel? Heeheehee!"

Hulk relaxed his grip and also started laughing. "Hohohoho! Hulk not fear water! Hulk know dog-paddle!"

I casually pumped a little more air into my Official Battlecruiser 4000 AD Super-Soaker Water Megarifle (some assembly required) and smiled wickedly. "Water? Who says I filled it with water?"

Panties took one look at the yellow liquid in the transparent reservoir and turned white. Hulk dropped her and hurriedly covered his mouth, his face a lovely pastel green. Neither was in any mood for further arguments.

"That's better," I said cheerfully. "Now, you'll all be relieved to hear that we're adopting neither alternative. If we fight, T-paks or not, thousands will die just for doing their duty. I won't allow that. So when the Confed birds get here, we're going to be good little girls and boys and accept escort according to Confed's edict."

Gasps of disbelief from my companions.

I forged on. "Confed will escort us to Papillon 5, where our four ships will be interned for the duration. If the Black Lance is really after us, they'll abort when they see we're not going anywhere."

Maniac could contain himself no longer. "I always knew you were a chickenshit, Blair! Whatsamatter, crybaby? Afraid to face the Black Lance again? Or maybe you made a deal with your old pal, Tolwyn, back at the Black Lance base!"

Knuckle walker. Refusing to be baited, I replied evenly, "On the contrary, Maniac, this is our best chance to deliver our evidence and hang him."

"With our ships interned?" he scoffed. "What are you gonna do, Ace--waltz into the station and ask 'em politely for a ride to Sol?"

I smiled. "That's exactly what I'm going to do, Maniac!"

"Huh?"

"Sir?"

"Earthworm?"

"Hulk hear right?"

Heehee, I really had 'em going! "Look," I explained, "who's the most wanted man in human space, hmm? Me--er, I--the infamous Heart of the Tiger, Confed's greatest traitor! When I show up at Papillon 5, they'll clap me in irons and ship me off to Sol so fast I'll leave skid marks in space! When I get to HQ, I'll show 'em Tolwyn's little speech. Our friend the Admiral will walk into the Dissembly and find himself in front of a firing squad! Heh heh."

I waited while they mulled that one over. I was right, but more important, it was too late for alternatives; Confed was too near. Nonetheless, I could see that all their fighting instincts were screaming in protest against surrender.

Finally, Panties broke the silence. "OK," she said bitterly. "Looks like you didn't leave us a choice. I guess betrayal has become a habit with you, hasn't it...renegade?"

I swallowed my hurt and looked her straight in the eye. "Would you have agreed if I'd asked you beforehand, Tamara?"

"Fuck you," she declared icily. She turned on her heel and strode out the doors.

Hulk, looking at his feet, said sadly, "Hulk think Blair friend. Hulk trust Blair, think Blair trust Hulk. But Hulk just big dumb ox." Eyes still downcast, he hopped out on his left foot.

I turned to Maniac, expecting a withering tirade. Instead, he just looked at me wistfully. "Y'know, Ace?" he said. "I used to think you were somebody worth hating...somebody worth humiliating with my superior skills. But I was wrong. You're nothing...just a big zero." Pointedly avoiding my eyes, he strode out of CIC.

Sosa didn't say anything, and for once she managed to fight back her tears...barely. She jumped to attention and snapped defiantly, "Y-your orders? SIR?"

Damn, I'd hurt her again. "Contact Confed, Sosa, and tell them we accept escort. Pass the orders to our frigates. Then get Lt. Cmdr. Ander in here. Tell him he's promoted to full commander and he's acting captain. Have Chief Morgenstern get my Dragon ready; I'm going on ahead."

"Yes, sir, Colonel, SIR!" Sosa spun on her heel and headed for the comm alcove.

Damn Border Worlders! I was right, dammit! So why did I feel so guilty? And thirsty? Was the price of guilt eternal thirst? I put the muzzle of the squirt gun in my mouth and took a generous drink of the amber liquid.

"EEEK!"

Startled, I whirled and saw Sosa standing in the comm alcove, looking at me in horror. Then she covered her mouth and dashed for the porta-potty.

That's funny, I thought to myself as I took another swig. I thought Sosa LIKED apricot juice.

*

Zelda was unusually quiet as she saw me off, and she refused to kiss the tiger emblem on my flight helmet. As I started up the ladder, however, she stopped me with a tug on my sleeve.

"Blairbear? Is this really the only way? Do you really have to shut us--shut ME out like this?"

I sighed in frustration. "Zelda, don't make this any harder for me. This is the fastest, surest way to get our evidence to Earth, OK? A courier ship will get me there a full day ahead of Vesuvius, with NO more loss of life."

"What if the Black Lance is out there? Our sensors caught a burst from the Jethro jump point a while ago. Maybe it was Confeds, but maybe it was the Black Lance..."

"I'll cloak all the way to the base; even with their Dragon optics, the Black Lance is unlikely to spot me." I hesitated, afraid of being rebuffed. "Look, Zelda, I'm sorry I lied to--"

She put a finger over my lips. "No, you're not. You always get the job done, no matter what the cost...to yourself, or to those around you!" She turned and walked away without a backward glance.

Ouch.

*

I cloaked as soon as I received Sosa's perfunctory "Cleared, Earthworm. "Launch was smooth and easy, except that once I was in space, I had to avoid collision with our CAP and the escorting Confed Hellcats. I threaded my way among the fighters and Confed capships, then went to afterburner.

As I watched Intrepid recede, I was momentarily tempted to chuck the whole elaborate plan and simply blaze off toward Earth. No, I'd discarded that option a dozen times. Hyperjump was hard on fighter jump units, even advanced models like the Dragon's. Two jumps without re-tuning was about the limit. Three, and I might end up in interstellar space; four would probably land me in the Twilight Zone.

I shrugged and pushed all doubts out of my mind. Win or lose, this was my last mission; I might as well enjoy the ride.

*

I arrived at Papillon 5 undetected. Noting that the station was recovering fighters, I quickly entered the landing pattern and sneaked up behind the last Hellcat. Coming in only seconds behind him, I caught the landing field just before it was deactivated.

Still cloaked, I drove past the taxiing Hellcat and toward a deserted service bay. A few techs swivelled their heads, puzzled by the stereo thruster sound effects, but even at close range the Dragon was invisible to the naked eye. It wasn't until I was safely in the bay that I dropped cloak, shut down, and climbed down from the cockpit.

I doffed my flight suit and wandered casually into the next bay. Coming up behind one of the techs, I tapped him on the shoulder. His annoyance at being interrupted quickly turned to astonishment as he took in my Border World uniform and insignia.

"Hi," I said brightly. "I'm Colonel Christopher Blair of the Union Militia. Er, take me to your leader." Heehee, I always wanted to say that!

"The Heart of the Tiger!" he exclaimed. "How the fuck did you get here?"

"Er, I walked," I replied, puzzled. What, did he think I flew over from the other bay?

The tech's eyes grew wider. "Security!" he yelled. "SECURITY! We got a nutcase here!"

*

Two guards soon showed up and ushered me to a conference room on one of the command levels. Waiting inside were three officers: two men and a woman, all dressed in black.

At the sight of their uniforms, I nearly had a heart attack. Jesus, they were Black Lance! Then, to my relief, I realized that the design was different. OK, so they weren't G.E.D., but they weren't Confed, either. What the heck was going on?

Although I couldn't tell their rank, the taller of the two men looked like the holopic in Sheraton's file. My guess was confirmed when he stepped forward and offered his hand.

"Colonel Blair? I'm Captain Don Sheraton." Still antsy about their uniforms, I shook hands warily; Sheraton's grip was strong and warm. "Your reputation precedes you, Colonel," he continued. "Under other circumstances this would be an honor."

"Er, yes," I replied cautiously. "For me, too. But under other circumstances, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"Indeed." He indicated the woman at his right. "My exec, Commander Snuzin Bossanova." Whoa, she was a winsome wench. Captain Sheraton sure could pick 'em. Her manner was cool and professional, but there was warmth in her touch and a sensuous glint in her eye. Hmm, there was something else about her—and about Sheraton, too. Had we met before?

Sheraton gestured toward the compact, bullet-headed man next to Bossanova. "Mysecurity chief, Nike Gullibaldi."

Despite the man's scowl, I extended my hand. He immediately jumped back and assumed a fearsome karate stance. "Heeyaah!" he cried. Startled, I quickly withdrew my hand and gave him a little wave instead. "Er, hi," I said.

Sheraton was staring at me intently. "Say, Blair," he remarked. "Now that I see you in person, you look awfully familiar. Aren't you the guy from--"

"No, I'm not!" I said quickly. "But now that you mention it, you're pretty familiar, too. Aren't you the guy from Tr--"

"No, I'm not!" Suddenly pale and sweating, Sheraton was looking around uncomfortably, as if afraid of who would overhear.

Bossanova waved her hand. "Hey, can I play? After all, I AM the gal from The H--"

"Shut up, Snuzin!" Sheraton and I snapped in unison.

She looked at her feet. "Sorry," she said meekly.

Sheraton still looked a bit pale to me. "Er, excuse me, Captain," I said with concern. "Have you been ill, sir?"

His eyes seemed to see across light years. "Actually, I was dead," he said, deadpan.

"Er, what the Captain means," said Bossanova hastily, "is that we all THOUGHT he was dead! Heh heh. Oh, Colonel Blair! Would you like to see our new THX sound sys--"

"No, no, I really was dead," insisted Sheraton. "I'm better now."

I glanced at Bossanova, who was looking sideways at Sheraton and tapping her finger against her skull. When Sheraton, too, looked her way, she quickly pretended to be scratching her head.

With me, however, there was no need for her to make excuses. After my own brushes with death, most recently on that mission in Pasqual, my mind was more than open to such concepts.

"What a coincidence, Captain!" I exclaimed. "I've died a few times myself."

"Then perhaps we have a common acquaintance," he replied solemnly. "When I passed beyond, I met a mystical being, garbed in white raiment--"

"You saw Elvis, too?"

Sheraton shot me a strange look. "Er, no. No, he called himself Jay Emmess. He said he was one of the Last Ones."

"The last ones to do what?"

"To make any bread off hopelessly trite pseudo-spiritual sci fi. I must confess, I have not yet fully grasped the meaning of his words."

"Yes," I said gravely, remembering my own struggles with the autoslide concept. "True understanding is often elusive. But tell me, Captain, how did you, er, 'pass beyond?'"

"Ah." Sheraton was obviously recalling pleasant memories. "It was my wedding n--"

"Er, excuse me, Captain!" Bossanova, who had been growing increasingly fidgety, finally interrupted us. "Hello? If the afterlife can spare you, SIR, we have to figure out what to do with Colonel Houdini, here."

Sheraton quickly shifted gears. "Uh, thank you, Snuzin. Ahem. Colonel Blair, although you are a most congenial guest, your presence here puts me in a very awkward position. I hate to arrest the Confederation's greatest hero, but my duty--"

"--is clear, Captain," I finished. "It's OK. I know I have to go to HQ for court-martial. If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to get it over with as soon as possible."

"Then it's settled," said Sheraton, obviously relieved. "We'll have a courier ship ready in an hour. Meanwhile, Snuzin and Nike will show you to your quarters, where you can refresh yourself."

"Thank you, Captain." I hesitated, then took out my data cartridge and handed it to him. "You'd better check this out; I think you'll find it interesting. Oh, and down in your hangar is some equipment that'll corroborate my story."

Sheraton accepted the cartridge and nodded.

"One more thing, sir," I continued. "Intrepid's synthesizers have been on the fritz for weeks. Can you send some food over when the ship arrives?"

Sheraton grinned. "Our chefs here are the envy of the Confederation. Your shipmates will have the very best."

"Thank you, sir." Maybe my friends would forgive my deception when they'd discovered the fringe benefits of internment.

*

"Wow, Commander!" I marveled. "This is quite a place you have here!" The journey to my "quarters" had already taken us past malls, factories, labs, and vast parklands. "I had no idea the Papillon bases were so elaborate!"

Bossanova grinned. "All part of the vision, Colonel," she said proudly. "The Papillon Project was our last, best hope for victory. It failed. But in the years after the Kilrathi War, it became something more: our last, best hope for a piece of Confed's budget!"

God help Confed. "I see," I said noncommitally. "But why so much civilian activity on a military installation?"

"Well, with all the budget cuts, we had to lease out most of the base to commercial outfits to make ends meet. We even contracted with PTEN for part of our salaries."

"PTEN?"

"Prime Tripe Entertainment Network." She plucked at her non-reg uniform and made a face. "They insist we wear these lame-o costumes on duty, and they come here occasionally to shoot on location for some stupid holovid series. I never watch it."

Jeez, Tolwyn was right: the entertainment industry was taking over the whole damn galaxy.

*

Still gawking like a rube at all the sights, I soon found myself in a huge, lavishly decorated hotel lobby. While Snuzin checked me in at the front desk, Gullibaldi slipped a confinement ring on my little finger.

"Don't try to take this off, renegade," he warned, "and don't leave the hotel! If you do--" He made a slicing motion across his neck. "--scrrrrrk! Heh heh heh."

Heh heh. Go twiddle your prehensile toes, banana-breath.

I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. "Good day, sir!"

I turned to see who-- "YIKES!"

It was an ALIEN! He was humanoid, but pale and completely hairless, with low-set misshapen ears, a bony crest forming a sort of bowl around the back and sides of his bald skull, and a beatific expression on his face. He seemed to have only two arms; his legs were concealed by his robes.

He flashed a professionally insipid smile. "My apologies for startling you, sir. I'm afraid our makeup can be quite...intimidating at first sight."

"Makeup? Then you're, uh, human?"

He looked puzzled. "Of course, sir. What else-- Oh, you thought-- Heh heh. Oh, yes, sir. Quite human. It's for the tourists, you see. As part of the hotel's exotic decor, the entire staff is costumed as various alien characters, both real and fictional. I am called Leer, and it is my honor to be your personal valet during your stay at the Papillon Sheraton. Welcome."

"Thank you, L-- Sheraton? Don't tell me Captain Sheraton is--"

"Yes, sir! THAT Sheraton. The One. The Donald. The last of the family. We're lucky to have him, sir; it's no exaggeration to say that his business expertise saved Papillon 5 from the scrap heap. Now, sir, if you'll follow me..." He dismissed my two escorts with a wave of his hand and headed for the lift.

*

Leer wasn't kidding about the staff. On the way to my suite we passed at least a dozen different "aliens," all as convincingly made up and costumed as Leer. Consummate professionals, they didn't seem to mind the constant interruption of their duties to pose for holopics with the tourists.

"Here we are, sir," said Leer, inserting the card key in the door.

"Say, Leer," I remarked, craning my neck. "Is that a Klingon down the hall there?"

"Quite possibly, sir. We have several Klingons here."

"Gee, that's funny," I said, grinning. "I thought Klingons always stuck around Uran--"

"Ah, heh heh." Leer's answering chuckle was obviously forced. "Very droll,sir. Er, if I may presume to offer advice, sir..."

"Yes?"

"Leave the jokes to us, sir, OK?"

"Uh, sorry." Too bad. That was one of Maniac's favorites.

*

Once inside my sumptuous suite, I made a beeline for the bathroom. I took my time showering and depilating, luxuriating in the unlimited water supply. When I finally emerged, I found my uniform had already been cleaned and pressed. My Official Battlecruiser 4000 AD Underwear had been replaced; the new stuff bore the PTEN logo and pictures of various Papillon Sheraton "aliens." Leer was nowhere in sight, but I had a feeling that he'd pop up instantly if I so much as whistled.

Well, I didn't feel like whistling. Urged on by my long-suffering stomach, I quickly commed Room Service and ordered a deluxe "Deep Space Nine-Topping" pizza. I'd been obsessed with the thought of pizza ever since my visit to Black Lance Prime, and I could wait no longer.

After dressing, I paced impatiently back and forth, impatient to appease my deprived taste buds. When the knock finally came, I dashed to the door and eagerly flung it open. "Well it's about t-- Who the hell are you?"

Whoever he was, he wasn't Room Service. In front of me stood a short, slightly built man dressed in brown, with a green brooch pinned to his chest. His dark, shoulder-length hair, manicured fingernails, and neatly trimmed beard gave as lightly effeminate cast to his rugged good looks.

"I am Marcie," he replied calmly, "Chief Warder of the Strangers." I noted a cultured English accent, which only reinforced his foppish image.

"Strangers? Stranger than what?" I asked in confusion.

"Stranger than you want to know," he replied, a sudden glint of madness in his eye. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "But come, Captain Sheraton requests your presence in CCCC, Colonel."

"CCCC?"

"Command, Control, Communication, and Corporate. Please come at once, sir," he said pleasantly. "I wouldn't want to get nasty with you." He pronounced it "nahsty."

As if this little twerp could push around the Heart of the Tiger! Besides, I had no intention of going anywhere until I'd had my pizza. "Look, Darcy, I haven't--"

"Marcie."

"Whatever. I haven't eaten for twenty light-years, so you'll just have to--"

With a flick of his wrist, Marcie suddenly produced a gleaming quarterstaff, seemingly out of thin air. In a blur of motion, he whipped the tip across my chest before I could move a muscle.

"Touché!" he said, smiling, his quarterstaff balanced easily in one hand.

I looked down at the big red "M" now emblazoned on my uniform. "Er, ink?" I asked shakily.

"Not exactly." Marcie collapsed his staff to finger length and began applying it to his lips.

*

Having lost my appetite, I allowed Marcie to deactivate my confinement ring and escort me to CCCC. Along the way, we engaged in a spirited discussion on the subtle interactions between skin complexion and lipstick. Outside the hatch to CCCC, he gave me a couple of lipsticks that he insisted were right for my coloring. I noted with pride that one was the same shade I had chosen for my "Heather" disguise. Marcie then grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks, French style, before taking his leave.

CCCC turned out to be a large circular chamber jam-packed with electronics, comm consoles, and stock tickers. It was bustling with activity. I found Sheraton and his officers on the mezzanine, absorbed in watching a holovid display. I looked closer...it was Tolwyn's speech!

As I approached, Sheraton turned away from the display. Noting the scarlet "M" on my chest, he said, "I see you've met Marcie."

"Uh, yeah. And his Swiss Army quarterstaff. So, Captain, what do you think of my evidence?"

He sighed. "Colonel, I've seen this thing twice, and I still can't believe it. But my techs swear up and down that the rec hasn't been doctored in any way. And that 'Dragon' you brought in is certainly no gimmick. So I guess I HAVE to believe you."

Gullibaldi was livid. "Captain! How can you trust this man? Hell, he sold out to Playboy, he sold out to the Union, and now he's selling out to us!" He confronted me angrily. "Whatsamatter, renegade? Those Border World boobs not paying you enough? How much do you want for this so-called 'evidence?' A million? Two million? Well, you can take your bogus data and stuff it up--"

"Nike!" declared Sheraton. "Nike, this evidence is damning, but it's only part of the story. Now that I've seen this, all the crazy events of the last few months suddenly make sense! The sudden upsurge in piracy; Confed's curious inability to suppress it; senseless 'atrocities' supposedly perpetrated by the Border Worlds; diversion of funds from procurement--and from the Papillon Project. I tell you, Nike, it all fits!" Sheraton ejected my data cartridge and handed it to me. "I've added my own endorsement of your findings, Blair."

I was elated. What a piece of luck, finding a decent, honest fighting man in charge of the station! HQ might take a little longer to convince, but in the end, Tolwyn would be toast! Heehee, the Heart of the Tiger had won again!

Suppressing a satisfied smirk, I stuck the cartridge in my pocket. "Then I'm off to HQ, Captain?"

He nodded. "Our fastest courier ship is standing by. You leave right after the press conference."

Press conference? Uh-oh.

I cleared my throat to cover my dismay. "Ahem. Captain Sheraton, under Confed regs, the accusations against both Tolwyn and myself are confiden--"

"Yes, I know." He avoided my eyes. "Normally, of course, this would be top secret. But tourism's way down this fiscal quarter, and we need the publicity. Don't worry, Colonel, the reporters from Ellie Mae IV will be here any minute,and then we--"

"You sent this by comm? ON A CIVILIAN CHANNEL?"

My vehemence took him by surprise. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

I struggled for control. "You MORON! If the Black Lance is in this system, then now they know everything! Jesus, they could attack any second!" Fighting my sudden despair, I tried to think. The Black Lance would have to eliminate both Papillon 5 and the Intrepid task force to suppress my evidence.

"Captain, I need to contact Intrepid! And scramble your Hellcats now!" As if that would help.

Sheraton hesitated a moment, then made up his mind. He directed me to a comm console and began barking orders to Bossanova and Gullibaldi.

Hurriedly I made my call, then waited an eternity for a response.

Sosa finally appeared in the display, her eyes half-closed and her hair in disarray. "Intrepid here," she said sleepily. "Oh! Colonel! Er, what are you doing on an open channel?" She took in the frantic activity behind me and came fully awake. "Hey, what's going on there?"

"Sosa! The Black Lance is on to us! Go to general quarters and scramble all Banshees! Do NOT use the you-know-whats!" I'd debated launching our own Dragons and decided against it. Now that Plan A was blown, Intrepid might have to confront Vesuvius, and for that it needed an ace in the hole. I wouldn't see the battle, of course; like everyone else on Papillon 5 I was as good as dead.

As Sosa cut me off to alert the task force, Commander Bossanova reported to me. "Any further orders, Colonel? Blue Squadron is up now, and the rest are launching. I notified the ships escorting your task force, and they're putting up more fighters. The ships around our base are on alert. All laser batteries are manned and ready." She looked me straight in the eye. "But it won't do any good, will it, Colonel?"

I shrugged. "Probably not. One Dragon can take this base without even trying."

"So this is it," she said in resignation. "We're going to d--"

A sensor tech suddenly screamed, "Captain, we're under attack!" All eyes shifted to the main combat display, in which a Dragon fighter had suddenly appeared less than a thousand klicks away. Before the base's lasers could zero in, it had disappeared again, leaving only a small, disk-shaped object tumbling toward the base.

I was unnaturally calm. Horrible death was mere seconds away, but to me it meant only that all my responsibilities were over. I'd soon be with my Angel again-- Hey! Maybe not!

"Captain Sheraton!" I yelled. "Drop the shields!"

He stared at me in surprise. "What?"

"DO IT!" I punched what I hoped was the fighter channel on my console. "Blue Squadron!" I screamed. "Shoot that disk off the hull!" With the shields down, they just might be able to destroy the ticklepak in time! "Blue Leader, do you cop--EEEYAHAHAHAHA!"

Suddenly every nerve in my body hit instant overload! My hyperstimulated muscles responded with massive spasms! Tickled by a million tiny fingers, I squealed reflexively.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

All around me, people were rolling on the deck and almost literally laughing their heads off. I writhed with the rest, still in hysterics despite my growing agony. Curiously, some hidden part of my mind noted with scientific detachment that even my ears were wiggling--vestiges of our animal ancestry, perhaps.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

With a supreme effort, I opened my eyes and peered through my tears at the combat display just as a Hellcat disintegrated under the Dragon's guns. Oh God, they wouldn't get the pak in time...no, another Hellcat was zooming in, covered by two more... He was firing...

I heard a distant explosion and my muscles went lax. Totally spent, I could only lie where I was, whimpering with pain and gasping desperately for air, my heart pounding like a trip-hammer. Jesus, that had been much too close! But I was alive!

My joy was short-lived. With its weapons silent, shields down, and nobody to raise them again, Papillon 5 was a sitting duck. Still watching the display, I saw the Dragon uncloak again and launch two torps. Unable to move, I could only watch helplessly as Death had a second go at me.

WHOOOOM! This time the explosion was deafening! I was flung off the mezzanine and into a hurricane of escaping air and flying bodies. Something hard crashed into my head, and I knew no more.

End of Chapter 28

Previews from Chapter 29:

"Who's Heather?"

"You know, Tolwyn may have outsmarted himself."

"Oh, anybody know where we can get some AAA batteries?"

"Tag, you're it!"

Chapter 29

Awareness returned with the suddenness of a lightning bolt. Disoriented, I took in the fog-shrouded, blurry landscape around me and wondered if this was Death at last. I searched my surroundings, looking for some sign of...what? Life? Not-life?

"Welcome back, Chris boy! Great t' see yuh, good buddy."

At the sound of the familiar voice, I broke into a smile. So I wasn't dead after all, just in a strange version of what I'd dubbed "mission limbo." As my old friend emerged from the fog, I extended my hand in greeting.

"Elvis!" I took his hand and squeezed. "Caught you between gigs?"

My friend, clad as always in dazzling white, removed his shades and grinned. "Yup. Jest got back from th' Third Circle of Hades. Did six thousand encores of 'Jailhouse Rock!' Man, they jest love-- Chris?"

I suddenly felt myself uplifted; Elvis shrank into invisibility before I could even wave good-bye. Much as I wanted to stay a spell, I was powerless against the summons from the world of the living.

Up, up I flew, toward a rapidly brightening light. Any second now, Sosa would give me clearance again, and I'd repeat my mission to Papillon 5. This time, I vowed, the outcome would be different...

*

Sosa's voice was soft and gentle, its joy tempered with concern. "Welcome back, Chris. I thought for a while there that I--that we'd lost you."

Welcome back? No, no, that was all wrong! "Sosa," I complained groggily, "you're supposed to give me launch clearance..."

"Launch? Chris, you're in sick bay." I felt a gentle pressure on my hand. "Wake up, dear."

Sick bay? My eyelids flew open. Shit, she was right! I tried to sit up, but succeeded only in raising my head off the pillow. Jeez, I was as feeble as a newborn.

Sosa put her hand on my forehead. "Shhh, Chris. You have a concussion as well as tickle pak exposure. Rest. Let the regens do their work."

I gave up, accepting the wisdom of her advice. My questions, however, couldn't wait. "OK, Vee. But what happened?"

She smiled. "We survived, thanks to you. We're off to intercept Tolwyn."

"We did? We are? But--Heeheehee!" My reply was interrupted by a sudden tickle spasm. Clenching my teeth, I fought it down. "Uh, how?"

"Your warning came just in time. We had half our birds up when a squadron of Black Lancers hit us, probably from a modified frigate. We intercepted with Banshees, just like in your drills, except that the Confeds joined us; about fifty Hellcats. Chris, did you...?"

"Yeah. I convinced Sheraton to help. Or rather, the Black Lance did."

"I see. Good thing, because even then, they made several T-pak hits. Our ships had Chief Morgenstern's cancelpaks, but two of the Confeds..."

I could easily--too easily--imagine the hellish scene on the defenseless Confed ships. Occasional giggling from nearby beds told me that even the C-paks hadn't provided 100% protection. "Go--Heeheehee!--go on, Vee."

"One destroyer lost nearly its whole crew before Colonel Manley shot off its T-pak."

"Hulk? Hulk thought of that?" Oh, great. My own tactic. Now I was thinking like a guy with the IQ of a sledgehammer. "Er, good for him. Was that it?"

"Nope. When their T-paks failed, they followed up with torps and missiles." Sosa shivered, no doubt recalling that nightmare battle in Thera, when Intrepid was nearly done in by four torpedo hits. "The Confeds lost another destroyer; Intrepid took a torpedo to starboard. It didn't penetrate the shields, but we have a lot of shock damage. 'A' Turret is out again."

I went rigid, trying and failing to suppress another tickle fit. "Heeheehee! Shit! What about--Heehee!--about the base?"

"The base was hit bad, especially near the command center, but the emergency force fields held. When the Confeds finally nailed their attacker, the lead Dragon peeled off from us and went for the station; we think it was that Theether guy. Lucky for you, one of our Puff pilots caught him before he could hit the base again."

"Puff Squadron? Dammit, Velina, I said--"

She shook her head. "We launched ONE Dragon. They already know we have one, right?"

Oops. "Uh, sorry, hon. So--Heeheehee!--so who saved my butt this time? Rubberneck? Panties?" Sosa looked away. "Oh no, don't tell me it was..."

She nodded. "Major Marshall. Chris, I know how that burns you, but would you rather be tickled to death?" I didn't respond. "Chris? Chris!"

"I'm thinking!" Damn, damn, damn! I'd never hear the end of this! On the other hand, Maniac was probably the only pilot we had who was good enough--and stupid enough--to nail that bastard Theether.

"Well, I'M glad!" declared Sosa. "Anyway, we docked with the base a few hours ago and helped with their casualties...and recovered you and your fighter. The base is back in business--barely. Chief Morgenstern gave them the Dragon optical specs, and now they're retrofitting all their Hellcats, in case the Black Lance returns. All four of our ships are operational and en route to the next jump point."

"Only four? Damn, I was hoping Sheraton would lend us a few of his!"

Sosa looked puzzled. "Colonel Farnsworth thought so, too. But when she asked Sheraton, he just said something about 'P-10' needing the rest of his ships to shoot a big battle sequence. Do you know what he was talking about?"

I just sighed. "It's a long--Heehee!--a long story, hon." Well, at least we'd survived the Ellie Mae gauntlet. There was, however, one more loose end...

"Velina? Uh, am I still in the doghouse?"

She smiled. "For not trusting us? No. It's obvious now that we could never have beaten both the Black Lance AND Confed, even if we used Puff Squadron and T-paks. Yours was the only way. Everyone has forgiven you...even Hulk."

Whew! "I'm glad." I took her hand and squeezed. "But I was wrong: I should have trusted my friends in the first place. I'll never shut you out again, Vee."

She squeezed back. "That's good, Chris..." Suddenly brisk and businesslike, Sosa took a trans slip out of her pocket and handed it to me. "...because now maybe you can explain this."

The trans was from Papillon 5. It read:

CHRISSIE: CALL ME. --MARCIE X X X

"Who's Marcie?" asked Sosa. "And what's that big red 'M' on your uniform? And the lipstick you had on your face?"

Oh, shit. "Uh..."

"Before you answer," continued Sosa, "there's more. After you left, I went to pack up your kit. I found these." She reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a pair of panties.

Yikes! My keepsake from Ensign Watt!

"And these, Chris." Sosa pulled out more panties, this time sheer and black. Reading the tag inside the tiny garment, she asked, "Who's Heather?"

I closed my eyes and prayed. Just strike me down now, God. OK? Please?

When it was clear no thunderbolt would be forthcoming, I reluctantly opened my eyes again. A promise was a promise. Taking a deep breath, I admitted, "I'm Heather."

"WHAT?"

I told her everything: the lovestruck Confed rookie; the Little John wannabe and his Avon quarterstaff; the Black Lance groupie and my impersonation of her. With each new revelation, Sosa found it harder and harder to stifle her amusement. Finally, when I described my encounter with Lt. Lemonlips, she could contain herself no longer.

"Whahahaha! He tried to KISS you? Heehee! Oh, Chris, that's priceless! OK, enough. I--Heehee!--I believe you." She took a WipeX from beside my bed and dabbed at her eyes. "And your secret's safe with me...Heather! Wheeheehee!"

"Go ahead, yuck it up!" I snarled. "That's the last time I ever tell you-- Hey, wait a sec! Honesty's a two-way street, right? You ready to hold up your end?"

She gave me a carefree smile. "Ask away. Unlike you, HEATHER--Heeheehee!--I have nothing to hide!"

"Oh yeah? OK, smartass, try this one: Why do you wear glasses instead of getting your eyes fixed? Are they regen-resistant? Is it a cult thing?"

Sosa bit her lip and looked away, clearly debating. Then, still avoiding my eyes, she confessed, "There's nothing wrong with my eyes, Chris."

"Then why...?"

"See for yourself." She took her glasses out of her breast pocket and put them on me as I lay back on the pillow. Squinting at the pipes and fittings above us, I could discern no refractive effects whatsoever.

I looked inquiringly at Sosa. "Velina, I don't under--" What the hell? Her uniform had vanished! She was sitting there stark naked in front of everyone! Hey, wait a sec, everybody else in the ward was naked, too...

Then I realized: It was the glasses! Stunned, I stared at Sosa. Damn, she'd been seeing me--SEEING me--since day one!

She endured my gaze for a few seconds, then shyly put one hand over the region where her bosom would have been, if she'd had one. With the other, she retrieved her glasses and returned them to her pocket.

"I'd better take these, lover," she said with a little giggle, "before you get a look at Forceps. In your condition, it might be fatal."

*

Weak though I was, I couldn't just lie around when there was so much to do. After much persuasion--and a two-can lemonade bribe--Forceps let me out of sick bay, though he insisted Sosa accompany me. We set off to inspect "A" turret, where the engineers were still making repairs. I had to lean heavily on Sosa at first, but as we slowly made our way toward the starboard bow, I gradually regained my strength.

We finally made it to the turret, where we found Panties talking with Commander Ander. With them were Maniac, Excell, and "Jailbait" Yokely, whose station was in the laser turret; Maniac was of course all over the cute young gunner.

Ander was shaking his head. "Sorry, Colonel Farnsworth," he said regretfully. "It'll take us two days just to fabricate the parts."

Panties kicked the bulkhead in frustration. "Shit! Without those lasers, we might as well paint a bullseye on our starboard bow! Oh hell, Ander, take your people and put 'em on something they CAN fix!"

Ander didn't need any coaxing. He recalled his engineers from the turret and got out of her sight as quickly as he could.

"Can I help, Colonel?" I inquired.

Deep in thought, she barely acknowledged my presence. "Hmm? Oh. No, not unless you have a fifty-megawatt flux damper and a dozen other assorted components on you." She kicked the bulkhead again, and then once more for good measure.

Maniac, in contrast, was ecstatic. "Hey, it's Captain Giggles!" Taking his paw off Yanni's bottom, he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. "Always a pleasure saving your ass, Ace! I--"

"EEYAHAHAHA!" In my weakened state, Maniac's enthusiastic handshake literally rattled my teeth. I tore myself free, trying to overcome the T-spasm he'd provoked.

Maniac regarded me with mock concern. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ace! Still feeling the effects of the T-pak? Gee, I thought you just got a SHORT exposure! Get it? Short? Haha ha! Oh, I kill myself!"

"Good idea!" snapped Excell. "Colonel Blair, I'm glad to see you up and around, sir."

"Er, thanks, Captain." As the spasm passed, I managed to regain my composure.

"Me too!" piped up Yanni, a bright smile on her face. "We can't lose, now that the Heart of the Tiger is back!"

"Yes we can," said Panties gloomily. "if we don't get this turret fixed."

Basking in Yanni's worshipful gaze, I felt omnipotent. "Hey, no problem, Panties," I replied confidently. "We'll just have the faeries fix it."

She threw up her hands. "Oh, Christ! Not you, too, Earthworm!" Speaking slowly and deliberately, as one would to a particularly backward child--or to Maniac--she said, "Look! Morgenstern's 'faeries' ARE NOT REAL. There are NO 'faeries,' OK? Besides, even if they existed, we have no more food to trade!"

I wasn't so sure. In Maniac, for instance, we had a hundred kilos of fresh meat on the hoof, so to speak. Barbecued, one of his legs would feed a whole flock of faeries, and it could be regenerated in a few w-- Wait a sec! Maybe they had other needs...

"Say, Maniac?" I asked casually. "Hand me your Playboy, would you?"

"Playboy? What Playboy?" He spread his empty hands for everyone to see. "Do you see a Playboy, Ace?"

"Quit stalling, Maniac!" I growled. "You always have one on you, so hand it over!"

Grumbling, Maniac turned his back to us. I heard a long ziiiiiiip, a rustling of clothing, and a short zip! Maniac turned around and handed me a thick magazine. "Here, Ace! I hope your 'faeries' appreciate good literature!"

"Er, thanks, M--" Eeewwwww, it was still warm! Holding it at arm's length between thumb and forefinger, I started for the hatch.

"Hold it, Colonel!" called Excell. "How do you know these 'faeries' of yours are male?"

Oops. "Good point, Captain. Uh, anybody got a Plowboy?"

Panties, Excell, and Sosa quickly turned their backs. Ziiiiip! Ziiiiip! Ziiiiip! Rustle. Rustle. Rustle. Zip! Zip! Zip! In moments, I had three more warm magazines in my hands.

Shaking my head, I climbed into the battered laser turret. I laid out the four mags in conspicuous spots, being careful not to look at the three cover boys, lest I develop an inferiority complex. My task complete, I left the turret and sealed the hatch behind me.

A few meters down the corridor, Sosa and Panties were jabbering and giggling excitedly. Now what could they be... Ah, probably it was about something they'd both read in Plowboy. Yeah, that must be it.

*

I made it on my own to CIC, where Lt. Cmdr. Queue was preparing a status update. The Union task force, though shaken, was still combat effective. Engines and power plants were in good shape, shields were back up, hulls and armor had been patched, and weaponry--except for Intrepid's "A" turret--was online. We had nineteen serviceable Banshees on Intrepid, another seven on the three frigates, ten Avengers, and of course the ten captured Dragons of Puff Squadron. There were also the four battered Vindicators from the disbanded Turkey Squadron, but we had no pilots to spare for them.

Queue handed me a clipboard. "Here's our latest intelligence on the Vesuvius group, Colonel," he said. "It's not good. Her escorts are three brand new destroyers, Terminator class: TCS Pocahontas, Lion King, and Aladdin."

"Let me guess, Ike. They were funded by--"

"Uh-huh. Twice the size of our frigates, twice the armament, nearly three times the shields and armor, and each one with a capmis launcher that can take out a frigate with one shot."

"And six to eight Hellcats each. But the real threat is Vesuvius and her fighters. What do we have on them?"

"Near as we can tell, Colonel, she's carrying four Longbow squadrons and seven Hellcat. She was built to carry a lot more, but this is supposed to be just a training cruise."

Even so, our fighters were outnumbered better than three to one. During fleet exercises, a force that badly outclassed would be automatically eliminated by the umpires. Well, this wasn't an exercise.

"One more thing, Colonel," continued Ike. "Vesuvius and her destroyers are the first ships to be equipped with the new P-PNG-DOMM advanced sensor array. I can't be sure, but from the intelligence we've collected, I'll lay odds it can detect cloaked birds."

Oh, shit. There went my plan for a covert Dragon strike on Vesuvius. "Still, Ike," I replied hopefully, "it takes more than technology to win a battle. What about the ships' crews?"

"Confed. There may be a few conspirators and Black Lancers among them, but Tolwyn's whole plan is to have Confed do most of his dirty work."

"And the--Heeheeheehee!" Damn, would the T-spasms never subside? "Uh, sorry, Ike. The pilots?"

"Very few veterans. The rookies are highly trained, but most have never seen combat."

Yeah, it was obvious now that Tolwyn had been systematically purging Confed's vets, preferring instead younger, more easily influenced minds. I'd seen that scheme at work on the Lexington. No doubt the defections from Lex had only confirmed his fears.

"You know," I remarked thoughtfully, "Tolwyn may have outsmarted himself. He diverted fighter procurement funds to the Black Lance and their pirate pals, so now he's stuck with obsolescent birds at the critical moment. And he may have loyal pilots, but there's no substitute for experience. I think we have a good chance here, Ike."

"Er, yes, sir," he replied doubtfully. "I'm sure Tolwyn's quaking in his boots right now."

*

I found Zelda in her workshop, making adjustments to an open ticklepak. Though tempted to sneak up on her, I resisted the urge. I'd surprised Rachel once during a repair job, and put us both in sick bay with plasma burns. I had no desire to repeat the experience with an armed T-pak.

"Er, Zelda?" I said, careful not to raise my voice. "Got a minute?"

"BLAIRBEAR!" She took off her goggles, set down her tools, and hugged me fiercely. "Oh, darling, you're all r--"

"EEYAHAHAHA! Zelda, let me go! Woohoohoo! I'm still--Heeheehee!--I'm still sensitive! Hyahyahya!"

Startled, Zelda pulled back. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Chris! Does it hurt?"

Damn, every place she'd touched me was still tingling. "Heeheehee! O-only when I l-laugh! Heeheehee!" Finally, the seizure passed. "Whew! I take it I'm forgiven, then?"

She gave me a wry smile. "Let's say you're on probation, OK?"

"OK. So, what are you up to, hon?"

She smiled that proud smile I'd come to know and love. "Rigging more C-paks. We used up my first batch in the Black Lance attack." Her smile vanished. "I-I saw some of our people who were...caught in unprotected zones. And I felt a few tingles myself. I can only imagine what y-you went through, Blairbear." Tears welled up in her eyes. "When I h-heard the base was hit, I thought you w-were d-d-d..."

Gingerly, I took her in my arms, gritting my teeth against the resulting T-tingles. "It's OK, hon. Remember what you--Heehee!--what you said? We're all in this together? I'll never forget that. In fact, that's what I came here to tell you: I'll never shut any of you out again."

She looked up at me, smiling through her tears. "Even muh-muh-Maniac?"

Oops. "Well, maybe not... Oh, hell. Yes, even Maniac."

*

I made it back to CIC just in time for the jump to the Noxzema System. We expected no Confed activity in the sparsely populated system, and there was none. After launching the usual CAP and short-range patrols, I dispatched Lovey and Dovey to find Vesuvius. If Tolwyn was on schedule, he should emerge from the Edema jump point within the hour. Meanwhile, the Union task force raced for the Eczema jump point at full speed. It was a long shot, but if we could beat Tolwyn through, one of our Dragons could easily complete the jumps to Proxima and Sol, and we could avoid battle entirely.

It would take over an hour for the two cloaked Dragons to get within passive sensor range of Vesuvius, and nearly two before they could report back safely. That gave me more than enough time to visit the galley for what could well be my last meal.

*

I heard the boisterous crowd long before I reached the galley; puzzled, I wondered what they could possibly be celebrating, with a desperate battle only hours away. I got my answer as soon as I went inside.

On the holovid, Sosa was showing "Horace Plump," the classic story of a Border Worlder's struggle against both physical and mental handicaps. The fictional Plump was something of a folk hero to the Border Worlders; he was widely viewed as a metaphor for all Border Worlders, who were generally--and not entirely unjustly--considered inferior by the rest of humanity.

Audience participation was traditional, so I joined in the fun. When Horace dieted off his poundage and won the Olympic Marathon, I yelled "Run, Horace, run!" along with the rest of the crowd. When he saved the drowning heiress, we cried, "Swim, Horace, swim!" During the love scenes, we encouraged him with "Fuck, Horace, fuck!" And at the end, through the tedious death scene, we screamed, "Die, Horace, die!"

As we headed for our stations, joking and laughing, I decided to give Sosa a commendation; her show had been the perfect morale booster for the coming struggle.

*

Approaching the hatch to "A" Turret, I tried to suppress my misgivings. The faeries had had a scant few hours to work on the turret, but we were out of time; our CAP had spotted Confed scouts near our task force, and a strike was probably inbound at this very moment.

At the hatch, I gestured for Panties to do the honors. Yokely and the other two turret gunners anxiously waited behind her; Excell and Maniac joined me on the other side of the hatch.

Panties opened the hatch, grumbling, "This is the most ridiculous thing I ever..." With a contemptuous glance at me, she entered the turret. I waited outside, fretting, as the seconds passed.

I was about to go in after her when Panties slowly emerged from the turret. Her face was white as a sheet, her gaze fixed and unblinking.

"Panties?" I prompted. "Hey, girl?" I grasped her shoulder and shook gently.

Momentarily emerging from her trance, she looked at me, then back at the hatch. Then her eyes glazed over again.

Forgetting Panties, I quickly climbed into the turret, followed closely by the rest of my party. Now what could have shocked her so--JESUS H. CHRIST!

The turret had been completely transformed. Where pipes, dials, displays, and controls had cluttered the bulkheads, tasteful abstract paintings hung on bare jet-black metal. The three jury-rigged crew stations had been replaced by ergonomically designed state-of-the-art holodisplay consoles with bio-neural interfaces and THX sound. Peering down through the deck hatch to the projector compartment, I saw that in place of the plasma excitation chamber at each laser breech was a bulbous black-enameled excrescence. The stencil on one read:

DANGER! MATTER-ANTIMATTER ANNIHILATOR!
(AAA batteries not included)

Whoa!

The silence was shattered by an anguished scream. I whirled. Excell was on her knees in front of a pile of torn paper. Clutching to her bosom what was obviously a fragment of a male centerfold, she was weeping as if her heart would break. Yanni knelt and hugged her in a vain attempt to give comfort.

Well, at least now we knew the gender of our unseen guests. I made a mental note to impound Maniac's Playboy collection for future repair jobs.

Leaving the gunners to figure out their new equipment--if they could--I gently collected Panties and headed for CIC. Along the way, she gradually regained her wits, though she remained subdued for some time. In the lift, however, she finally found her tongue.

"Chris?" she said diffidently. "About the faeries? I'm sorry I doubted you. Forgive me?"

I punched our deck and smiled magnanimously. "Forget it. Can you forgive ME for Ellie Mae?"

"Welllll," she said mischievously. "OK, on one condition. You're quite a man, Chris Blair, but now that I know you have a feminine side, too..."

Uh-oh.

"You see, Sosa told me about Heather--one big happy family, remember?--and now I can't get that image of you out of my mind." She reached out and slowly ran her index finger down my chest. With uncharacteristic shyness, she continued, "There's this game I read about in Plowboy...one I've always wanted to try... with a guy who's man enough to be...a girl. Next time we're together, can we play...Cheerleader Sleepover?"

Cheerleader Sleepover? Hmmm. Angel and I never tried that one...

*

Tex and Primate were already waiting for us in CIC; Hulk and Maniac showed up less than a minute later. Excell came in soon after, her eyes red but dry; I noted a corner of the torn centerfold sticking out of her breast pocket.

Sosa secured her console and joined us. Noting her stare at Tex and Primate, I casually reached over, removed her glasses, and stuck them in her pocket. She glared at me a moment before putting up a display of the Noxzema System with the latest recon data from our two Dragon scouts. She slapped the remote into my hand--ouch--and I began the briefing.

"Ahem. To begin, I'd like to welcome our new squadron commanders to their first briefing--and possibly their last."

Tex, Excell, and Primate greeted my pathetic little joke with nervous chuckles.

I highlighted the jump point and the two task forces racing toward it. "As you can see, Vesuvius and Intrepid are converging at an angle of about thirty degrees. Although Vesuvius is faster than we are, she's much farther from the jump point; if nothing changes, we'll reach jump range about half an hour ahead of her."

"Wait a minute, Ace!" Maniac was frantically waving his hand for attention. "That means we're within striking distance already! We should be launching--"

"No!" I said decisively. "If we jump first, Tolwyn loses, so he has to come to us." Using the remote, I highlighted the incoming strike detected by Lovey and Dovey. "And that's the key to my plan. We're going to--"

"Plan? Oh, shit, not another one, Ace!"

Excell assumed a pained expression. "Er, I've heard about your plans, sir..."

Hulk was more direct. "Hulk not like Blair plans!"

I sighed with exasperation. Damn Border Worlders! Well, I'd learned my lesson; this time I would persuade them, no matter how long it took. I began by attacking their weakest link.

"You'll like this plan, Hulk," I said slyly. "I call it...The Rabbit Punch."

He was immediately alert. "'Rabbit Punch?'"

"Yeah. And you get to be one of the rabbits!"

He quivered with excitement. "Hulk like plan already! Tell Hulk more!"

"OK. Here's how it goes..."

I quickly outlined my plan. Then I went over it again for Hulk, who had missed a few of the subtler points, like the beginning, middle, and end. It wasn't until the third presentation, complete with hypermedia effects and laser lightshow, that he finally grasped it in its entirety.

"Oooohhhhh," moaned the amazed Hulk. "Blair make GOOD plans!"

Panties was less enthusiastic, but agreeable. "OK, Earthworm, I don't have any better ideas, so I concur." The others, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, also indicated their agreement.

"Thanks, people," I said, grateful I hadn't had to pull rank this time. "See you on the flight deck. Oh, anybody know where we can get some AAA batteries?"

Excell raised her hand. "I have some in my flight suit." She fingered the corner of her torn centerfold and made a face. "I won't be needing them."

"Er, thanks, Jen. Send them up to "A" Turret, will you? Dismissed, everyone."

I watched as my pilots filed past, praying I hadn't just signed their death warrants. Except maybe Maniac's...

*

Primate and I emerged from the Wombat locker room into a maelstrom of taxiing fighters, running crewmen, and careening vehicles. Momentarily stunned by the din, I donned my flight helmet to mute the noise somewhat. Tossing Primate his preflight can of banana nectar, I headed for my Dragon's service bay, dodging men and machines alike.

Panties was waiting for me at the bay entrance, next to a weapons loader. "Hi, Colonel!" she said cheerily. "It's sort of a Border Worlds tradition for the leader to give an inspirational speech before a crucial battle...to bring us luck. Can you say a few words to the crew?"

Now she tells me! "Er, do I have to, Panties?"

She grabbed me and shoved me toward the loader. "Yes, you do! Now get your ass up there!"

Damn, what should I say? Maybe something from history? Let's see... No bastard ever won a war by dying for-- Uh-uh. England expects every man-- Nope. Crush your enemies, drive them before you, and hear the lament-- No, no, no! Wait! I got it!

Hurriedly I pulled out my Mc and searched for significant events in Border World history. Please, please...Yes! Perfect! Exactly twenty-five years ago today, the enslaved planet Dewerdye had declared its independence from the Kilrathi Empire. The pathetic rebellion had quickly been crushed, of course, but the incident had become enshrined as an inspirational example of Border World courage. And I knew the perfect speech to weave around it.

Now sure of myself, I climbed onto the weapons loader. All across the flight deck, men and women stopped what they were doing and looked up expectantly. I just prayed I wouldn't disappoint them.

"Colonel?" Sosa's voice echoed faintly in my receiver. "Your helmet mike is piped into the PA and every ship in the task force. Knock 'em dead, sir."

"Thanks, Lieutenant." I paused a moment to survey my audience, and to let them take in my calm, confident demeanor. Then, satisfied that I'd made the right impression, I began my fateful speech.

"Good morning. In less than an hour, we'll be fighting yet another battle in the Border Worlds' long struggle against tyranny, oppression, persecution...and annihilation. Perhaps it's Fate that today is Thursday, the Fourth of--"

"Pssst!" hissed Panties. "Today's the FIFTH, Chris!"

What? Oh, shit! I never switched my Mc from Confed Standard Interstellar Time to Border World Leisure Savings! Damn, damn! There goes my speech! Quick, Blair, improvise!

"--er, the fifth, an ordinary, humdrum, really not-at-all-unusual date. But should we win the day, that will change! Today will no longer be remembered as, um, the fifth, but as the day when the Border Worlds declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to strive with all our might, in the cause we know is right, 'til the stars in our skies shine bright...with freedom's wondrous light!

"TODAY WE CELEBRATE...FRIDAY!!!"

"YAAAAY!!!" The crowd's answering roar nearly blew me off my perch. Screaming their defiance, my comrades pumped their fists in the air, high-fived, and pounded each other's backs. Others jumped to attention and saluted smartly, their eyes suddenly moist with emotion.

"FRIDAY! YAAAY! FRIDAY!"

Deafening cheers echoed from one end of the flight deck to the other. Helmets, caps, papers, wrenches, hammers, and other items of every description flew in all directions as the euphoric Border Worlders grabbed everything not nailed down and flung it into the air.

"T-G-I-F! T-G-I-F! T-G-I-F!"

Panties vaulted onto a tool chest and screamed, "LET'S GO GET 'EM! GO! GO! GO!"

"YAHOOOOO!" Yelling like idiots, the pilots stampeded for their birds.

I climbed down from the weapons loader, shaking my head ruefully. When would I learn? With Border Worlders, it wasn't what you said, but how you said it. I could have yelled out the damn dictionary and gotten the same effect!

*

Zelda was waiting by my Dragon with tears in her eyes and a brave smile on her face. "Blairbear," she said, a catch in her voice, "th-that was just...just so inspirational!"

Not her, too! "Er, thanks, hon," I replied. "Uh, I just thought of you, and it sort of came out by itself."

"Liar," she chided, but her smile betrayed her pleasure at my little fib.

I began our sendoff ritual by handing her my flight helmet, which she dutifully kissed and returned. Instead of a hug--I was still too sensitive--I got a gentle press of my hand. "There's a surprise for you in the cockpit, dearest," she said. "Run a diagnostic before pre-flight."

"Diagnostic? Uh, OK." I climbed up the ladder, wondering what my ingenious crew chief had come up with this time.

Up in the cockpit, I settled into my seat, flicked Zelda's fuzzy dice affectionately, and initiated a quick level 1 sensor check. I cringed reflexively, expecting the AI to reply in Lemonlips' grating voice again.

"Sensors at 100%, Blairbear!"

Zelda's voice! She had replaced the AI's harsh speech with her own angelic tones! Wow, what a wonderful gift!

Eagerly, I punched up a full series of system checks. I ran through pre-flight with Zelda's soothing voice filling the cockpit.

*

Launch was delayed a few minutes while the deckhands cleared away personnel injured by flying objects--none of them pilots, fortunately. Once in space, Wombat and Gopher Squadrons split up, the Wombats climbing "above" the incoming strike, the Gophers "below." Skunk Squadron formed up with our escorts' Banshees and started for the Vesuvius group on a course that would just skirt Confed's strike formation on our "left." Puff Squadron, cloaked all the way, raced to join Archie and Valentina behind the Confeds.

I stayed with the Wombats, my Dragon fully visible. My presence was good for morale, of course, but I also didn't want the Confeds wondering where our lone Dragon was lurking. Our "Rabbit Punch" had to be a complete surprise.

Tolwyn, a brilliant tactician, might have split his strike and tried to confuse us with attacks from multiple directions. With a largely rookie strike force, however, he had opted instead for a single force of over a hundred fighters, where his newbies could be kept under the watchful eyes of their wing and squadron commanders. Four Hellcat squadrons led the formation, their job to hit our interceptors first and blunt their attack. Behind them, a fifth squadron was in reserve to catch any leakers. Bringing up the rear was Tolwyn's main punch: four squadrons of ponderous, but deadly Longbows.

No doubt Tolwyn expected to annihilate our tiny task force with one blow, and so he might--if his fighters stuck together. The whole purpose of my "Rabbit Punch," however, was to break his strike up into bite-size chunks of Dragon chow. For example, as Wombat and Gopher Squadrons approached from "above" and "below," the lead Hellcats had to split into two forces to intercept. When they had been lured out far enough, our Avengers abandoned all pretense of attacking Vesuvius and angled for the Longbows from the "left." The reserve Hellcats predictably moved out to meet them. The enemy formation was now split into four elements. Had all our cards been on the table, it would have been an excellent deployment, but we still had an ace--er, rabbit--in the hole.

At about two hundred thousand klicks from Intrepid, we went to full speed and bored in. The Confed Hellcats raced to meet us. As we closed to taunting range, the comm channels fairly sizzled with invective.

"Prepare to die, Union slime!"

"Any last requests, Confed?"

"You're nothing but gutter dogs, Border Worlders!"

"Hey, Confed! Seen the latest Playboy?"

"Yo' mama's so ugly, her face looks like her neck threw up!"

"Eat my shorts!"

Just beyond missile range, I sprung the trap. Switching to the wing channel, I called, "Wombats! Gophers! Tag, you're it! Repeat: Tag, you're it!" Our Banshees reversed course and retreated into autoslide, blazing away at the pursuing Hellcats. Meanwhile, I cloaked, switched to the Puff channel, and fired off the second code phrase.

"Wascally wabbit! Wepeat, er, repeat: Wascally wabbit!"

Immediately, Puff Squadron decloaked behind the Longbows. At point blank range, they launched their leech missiles and slipped into cloak again. Splat! Splatsplatsplat! In seconds, nine Longbows were drifting helplessly while the Puffs gloated.

"Score one for the good guys!"

"T-G-I-F!"

"Quack quack!"

"Chalk another up for the Maniac!"

"Happy FRIDAY, Confed!"

Reacting in panic, the Longbows fired a flock of FFs and scattered. Someone must have kept a cool head, however, because they quickly swarmed together again like a school of oversized sardines and headed for the nearest Hellcats, which happened to be the ones chasing Wombat Squadron. Half the 'cats broke off pursuit and rushed back to the rescue.

In all the confusion, however, they failed to notice that our Dragons were no longer attacking the Longbows. The Puffs had in fact afterburned right past the torpedo craft and now uncloaked in the midst of the would-be rescue party.

Coming up behind the Hellcats myself, I locked a leech on one and blazed up on another's tail. Uncloak! Fusion blast! Whoom! Kaboom! Launch! Whoosh! Splat! Two down! Whoopwhoopwhoop! FF locked on me! Cloak! Hurry, hurry... missed! I was after a third victim when I was suddenly seized by another tickle spasm. Fortunately, Castor took down my target while I recovered.

Splat! Whoom! Kaboom! Splat! Splat! Scratch twelve Hellcats! Now for the Longbows! The Rabbit Punch was working! For one intoxicating moment, it looked like the whole Confed strike would disintegrate.

Unfortunately, whoever their wing commander was, he knew his business. Finally recognizing the folly of his deployment, he must have ordered the entire strike to reform--at all costs. While the 'bows zeroed in on Intrepid, the 'cats gave up their pursuits and rushed back to join them. In doing so, however, they presented their vulnerable rear aspects to our faster Banshees, and our pilots had a field day.

Puff Squadron rampaged unchecked through the Longbow formation until the returning Hellcats forced them back into cloak. Still cloaked myself, I surveyed the situation for a moment. Confed had suffered over forty percent casualties--mostly from our Dragons--but now they were together again in one somewhat disorganized swarm.

With the Longbows less than sixty seconds from firing range, I had no choice. "Puff Squadron, follow me in, decloak and attack on my signal! Wombat, Gopher, and Skunk Squadrons, mix it up!" I hit burner and prepared to re-engage. Now it was a fight to the death at close quarters.

"Go!" I decloaked and fired a fusion overcharge at a Hellcat less than two hundred klicks distant. Whoom! Kaboom! Even as he disintegrated, missiles and blaster fire converged on me from all directions. Bam! Bam! Cringing as my bird shuddered with hits, I dumped decoys and turned for all I was worth, keeping the Confeds distracted. Splat! Kaboom! Yeah, our Banshees and Avengers were getting into the fight! I cloaked and upped shield recharge.

My Rabbit Punch had degenerated into a wild furball of twisting birds, sizzling blaster fire, and streaking missiles, in which a pilot needed all his skills just to survive, let alone kill. Our Dragons were in their element, sowing confusion and destruction with each appearance. Yet even they were vulnerable in this confusing melee, where Death struck at random from all directions.

Locked in my own little universe of searing flame, heedless of anything but the enemies in my immediate vicinity, I fought like an automaton. Target! Fusion charge! Uncloak! Whoom! Got him! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Missile lock! Bam! Bam! Blaster fire! Turn like a maniac, Blair! Cloak! Cloak, dammit! Whoop! Whoop! Whoo-- Whew! Safe in cloak! Shields weakening! Screw it! Target...

Heavy laser fire! My God, we're in range of the task force already! Two more Longbows fall to fire from BWS Tie and THX, but the rest zoom past, ignoring the small fry for the main prize: Intrepid herself.

Heedless of the Hellcats all around me, I hit burner, uncloaked, and took out another Longbow with a leech. I angled for another, accumulating a massive fusion charge. Even if my target evaded, he'd lose lock on--Heeheehee! Shit, another t-spas--WhoopwhoopWHAMMO! An IR to port staggered my bird and forced me to cloak. Seventeen thousand klicks away, Intrepid, with BWS Ewok close aboard, was rotating to unmask "A" turret. Er, "A" turret? What were those idiots--

SCREEEE! Shrill static from my comm! A bright violet beam leaped from the carrier to the nearest Longbow, which went up in a brilliant flare! Sosa appeared on the comm, screaming, "Target demolished!"

SCREEEE! "Target demolished!" SCREEEE! "Target demolished!" Damn, what had the faeries done to those lasers? Whatever it was, we should have put Playboys in ALL the turrets!

At ten thousand klicks, the Longbows loosed a ragged salvo of torpedoes, then broke off. Some were poorly aimed--our "secret weapon" must have unnerved the rookies--but the rest had textbook locks. As the heavy fighters pulled out, the battle seemed to pause while pilots on both sides watched the torps home in on their target.

Intrepid raced at full speed across the paths of the incoming torps. Lt. Pilotte was making all the right moves, but there were still far too-- What the hell? BWS Ewok was pulling abreast of Intrepid! The carrier nuzzled suicidally close to the intervening frigate, until their blips merged on my scope. Having lost their original target, most of the torpedoes locked onto the closer BWS Ewok, converging on it like moths to a flame.

KERBLAM-BLAM-BLAM! The frigate disappeared in a blinding fireball! My God, was Intrepid caught--No! She burst through the edge of the holocaust, her shields sparkling with debris impacts. Three torpedoes sped off into the void behind her.

No time to mourn the crew of the Ewok! With a tenacity that belied their inexperience, the Confeds were renewing their attack, despite fearful losses. It made me sick to kill such brave men and women, but with millions of lives at stake, I couldn't stop. I punched up the Union fighter channel and overrode the frantic chatter.

"Banshees and Avengers, take the 'cats! Dragons! Nail those fucking 'bows!"

"Moving in, Earthworm!"

"These guys history! Huh-huh! Huh-huh!"

"They're gonna wish they were never born, Ace!"

Barely a third of the wing acknowledged. So few left... No, don't think about the dead, Blair. Fight for the living.

I uncloaked behind a limping Longbow and fired a double fusion charge. Whoom! Kaboom! No pod. Oh shit, he got off a torp! Bam! Bam! Hellcat on my tail! Turn! Cloak! Bam! Kaboom! Yaay! Primate got him!

"OOOeeeOOOeeeOeeOOOoooo!"

We hit burner and aimed for the last Longbow formation, which was drawing Union and Confed fighters from all sides. They were nearly locked...Shit! Too late! Seven more torpedoes were already in pursuit of Intrepid. Having expended all torps, the Confeds were now in full retreat.

No need now to sacrifice any more of my comrades. I punched the comm. "Banshees! Avengers! Break off! Dragons, cloak and stand by!" No doubt the Confeds would be overjoyed, if puzzled, to be left unmolested on their return.

I couldn't care less. With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I watched the torpedoes and prayed for a miracle. This second attack was much less organized than the first, the torpedo pattern looser. Intrepid had a chance...

Lt. Pilotte easily avoided the first torpedo, then turned to deal with the rest. She had set Intrepid rotating about its axis, and I marveled that she could still control the ship so precisely under those conditions. Intrepid neatly slipped the next two torps, which took her right into the last four. KERBLAM! The first one hit the port bow, but didn't penetrate the shields. KERBLAM! KERBLAM! Numbers Two and Three impacted amidships on the dorsal shields, rattling the ship from bow to stern. The top was unprotected now, but it was rotating out of the line of fire. KERBLAM! The last torp hit the starboard side aft. Intrepid slowed noticeably, but she was intact.

My elation was short-lived. As Intrepid turned back toward the jump point, I caught a flicker of light from the flight deck. Fire! And the firefighting system was still damaged from the battle in Thera! Oh, God! Zelda!

With an effort of will, I got hold of myself. I was the Wing Commander, and I had to keep a cool head. The Confed attack had cost us at least ten minutes of our lead over Vesuvius. With her speed reduced, Intrepid could no longer beat Tolwyn to the jump point. The frigates could make it, however; slightly faster than Intrepid, they might even make up a few minutes. It would only take one ship to ferry a Dragon into the Eczema system.

I had to act fast. Our frigates were already moving to assist Intrepid. I raised them on the comm.

"BWS Tie! BWS THX! Make for the jump point at best speed! Now!"

The Tie's captain appeared on the comm, his expression elaborately neutral. "Colonel, request permission to detach BWS THX to assist damaged fighters and collect survivors."

I might have expected back talk from a Border Worlder! I was about to yell at him when I thought better of it; these people could listen to reason if they were approached properly.

"Captain Mai, your sentiments do you credit, but if Tolwyn beats us to the jump point, the crew of the Ewok died for nothing. If I know the Admiral, you'll need both frigates to fight your way through. Take our Banshees aboard, leave your shuttles to assist here, and GET MOVING!"

He hesitated, then fired off an "Aye aye!" and broke off. The two frigates changed course and put on speed. Intrepid would just have to fend for-- Hey! The fires were out! Now how did they--

"Hey, Ace!" Maniac. Of course. "Why are we twiddling our thumbs here when we still have kills to score? You running SHORT of courage again? Haha ha!"

Bellybutton lint. "Because I don't want any mistakes when we go after the Confeds, Maniac. You're gonna be VERY clear on what I want!"

Panties came up on the comm. "Earthworm, you're not going after those Confeds? We've lost enough people today. Besides, our Banshees are getting low on gas."

"I know, Panties. Tolwyn's put Intrepid out of the race, but he still has to stop the frigates. We can't let him use those fighters against us again. But we're just taking the Dragons. We'll play it cool, take our time, and chop 'em down one at a time with minimal risk. One more thing: no fusion guns! We cut 'em up with our tachyons, give 'em every chance to eject. We've killed enough for one day."

"Aw, Ace," complained Maniac. "That's no fun. We owe these guys some payback. I'm gonna take my fusion guns and--"

"Maniac," I warned, "follow orders or I'll make you and Miss July Inflatable famous throughout the galaxy."

"--and deactivate 'em, just like you said, Ace! Heh heh. Hey, I LIKE being a nice guy. They won't feel a thing! I'll sneak up on 'em nice and--"

"Shut up, Maniac! Puff Squadron, uncloak and form on me!"

*

The path back to Vesuvius was soon littered with fighter parts, ejection pods, and Hellcat and Longbow wrecks. We took our time, singling out victims for attack by two or three Dragons. A quick fade-in, a few short tachyon bursts, and the hapless target was crippled, too slow to stay in formation, and easy meat for a subsequent attack. Thankfully, most of the rookies chose to eject at that point.

I sent Homes on ahead to watch for a relief force, leaving us just four Dragons to continue the grim work of chopping up the fleeing Confeds. Half an hour later, just as we were closing on the last six, he reported back.

"Earthworm! Two Hellcat squadrons headed for you!"

Uh-oh. Fresh fighters fat with missiles. That would more than even up the odds. "Roger, Homes. Track 'em and--"

"There's more, sir! The Confed task force has split up! The destroyers have gone on ahead! Sir, they're in a dead heat with our frigates!"

Oh, shit! How could I have been so stupid? We'd sent our frigates ahead of Intrepid; Tolwyn could do the same with his destroyers! Damn, now we were in for it! Our frigates couldn't stand up alone against Tolwyn's destroyers!

"Uh, roger, Homes. Puff Squadron, back to Intrepid, now! We gotta load up on torps and missiles! Homes, follow us back!" Damn, damn, damn!

*

As we neared Intrepid, I got a comm from Sosa.

"Welcome back, Earthworm. We have one badly damaged Banshee in the landing pattern. You're cleared as soon as it's aboard."

Thank God Sosa was all right. And if Intrepid was recovering fighters, her damage couldn't be too bad. Gratefully, I acknowledged her transmission.

"Thanks, Lieutenant. What's your status?"

"Minor damage all over the ship. We're down to half speed. Fire damage to flight deck and service bays. 'E' and 'F' turrets are out; 'A' turret's batteries are dead. Fourteen casualties. Earthworm, the landing field is fluctuating; do you want to land on the frigates?"

"No, Lieutenant. The frigates don't carry torpedo reloads. Earthworm out."

The four of us lined up behind Intrepid and watched Excell's approach. Wounded and nursing a barely flyable bird, she nevertheless managed a decent landing. Whew! Now we could get down and rearm for--

Sosa appeared on the comm again, looking agitated. "Puff Squadron!" she yelled. "Generatorjustwentoutlandingfieldfailing!"

"What did she say, Ace?"

"Hulk not understand."

"Did you get that, Earthworm?"

"Er, no, Panties. Intrepid, say again, please."

Sosa popped up on the comm again. "Hurryupnlandyouguysitsfailingfast!"

"What? We're handy guys sailing last?"

"No, Panties, she say guyser wailing blast."

"Yer both wrong, dummies! She said furry hand buys scaling mast!"

Huh?

Nearly hysterical, Sosa tried again. "LandnowyoudipsticksnownowNOW!!!"

Whoa! That sounded urgent! We must be losing the landing field! Hurriedly, I commed my wingmen.

"Panties! Hulk! Maniac! Land now, wing abreast! I'll follow you in!" We were taking a desperate chance, landing three Dragons at once, but we were dead if we couldn't get torpedo reloads. I just prayed the landing field would still be functional when it was my turn to land.

I punched the throttle to stay close to my wingmen, monitoring landing field telemetry all the way. Meanwhile, they jockeyed for their simultaneous landing with consummate skill and teamwork.

"Maniac, you idiot, give me some room!"

"Panties too close to Hulk wing!"

"Fuck you, bitch, shove over!"

"Kiss my ass, moron!"

"Anytime, anywhere, sweet buns!"

Somehow, they made it down safely, using full reverse thrust at the last second to kill the velocity the landing field couldn't bleed off. After its triple jolt, however, the landing field began fluctuating more wildly than ever, twice going completely dead. Under those circumstances, I had no hope of making a conventional landing.

I fingered the throttle. The better part of valor... No! Instead, I lined up carefully on Intrepid, dropped my landing gear, punched autoslide, and did a 180. Watching my rear view, I frantically racked my brain, trying to remember if anyone had ever tested autoslide in a landing field. To the best of my knowledge, no one had. Wonderful! I tried to visualize "autosliding" with Rachel in a variable landing field and nearly threw up.

Sosa appeared on my comm, eyes wide with terror. "Earthwormwhatthefuckare--"

I cut her off. Intrepid drew closer with terrifying speed. They must be shitting their pants on board about now. I was feeling a bit loose mysel-- Oh no! Another tickle spasm! No, not now, not-- "EHEEHEEHEE!"

Blindly, I fumbled for the throttle and autoslide controls. My stomach did a flipflop when I hit the landing field, and then I felt a tremendous jolt as my bird touched down. My instruments showed engine shutdown and zero velocity. Hot damn, I made it! Woohoo, the Heart of the Tiger had done it again!

Then I closed my eyes and gave myself over completely to the shakes.

*

When I had calmed down a little, I popped the canopy and climbed out of the cockpit. Feeling more than a bit cocky after my daredevil landing, I did a showoff slide down the ladder, spun in midair, and landed lightly in a gymnast pose. Ta-dah!

Hey, where'd everybody go? Puzzled, I removed my helmet and looked around, shielding my eyes from an annoying glare. No Zelda, no techs, no nobody! And where were all the fighters? The deck was empty for as far as I could-- Hey! Most of the deck plates were missing, exposing cables and pipes and conduits and...and lights! Now who had stuck all those lights in the deck, where they glared in my eyes and--

Uh-oh.

With a feeling of dread, I directed my gaze upward. Higher, higher...yikes! Three decks above me, the overhead was covered with fighters, deckhands, techs, and miscellaneous equipment, all upside down. Some of the people were looking down at me curiously, but the rest were going about their business; Maniac and Panties, for instance, seemed to be playing tag, totally unconcerned about running around on the ceiling.

Of course, that was because they WEREN'T on the ceiling; I WAS!

Suddenly the ship was spinning around me! Overcome by vertigo, I plummeted "down" to the overhead, where I desperately tried to claw a handhold in the durasteel plating above, er, below me. I tried to tell myself that I was in no danger of falling--obviously someone had reversed the local grav generator-- but in my terror it made no difference. Whimpering, I cowered on the deck, er, overhead, trying desperately to become part of the plating.

I don't know how long I cowered there before I became aware of a voice calling to me.

"Colonel? Sir?"

Primate?

"Colonel, crawl this way, sir. I'll get you down."

I forced my eyes open and spotted him clinging to the bulkhead a few meters to my left. Oh, shit! He was upside down! No, I was! No, HE was! I quickly hid my eyes again, my stomach heaving.

"It's all right, sir," he said soothingly. "I'm over the adjacent gravgen here. Keep your eyes closed and just crawl toward the sound of my voice."

Tentatively, I stretched out my right arm and heaved myself forward a few centimeters. After fighting off a wave of nausea, I did it again. And again.

Somehow I managed to crawl close enough for Primate to put a safety line around me. As he guided my fingers to handholds in the next gravgen field, I was dimly aware that the "up" field around me had been turned down to about ten percent of Earth norm; that made it a lot easier to swing into the "down" field and accompany Primate back to the flight deck.

I was nearly myself by the time we got down. Sheepishly, I reached for Primate's outstretched hand.

"Uh, heh heh, guess I lost it up there, Dean. Thanks for getting me--"

He shook his head in annoyance. "Er, you're welcome, sir, but, ah, could I just have the, um..."

Oh, shit! Of course! I took the can of banana nectar out of my hip pocket and held it out. Fast as lightning, he snatched it out of my hand and scuttled off to drain it in private.

"Blairbear! Are you hurt?"

Zelda! "Uh, no, Zelda, just my pride. I'm afraid Maniac will never let me live this one down."

She smiled wryly. "Oh, I think the Major has other things on his so-called mind right now." Right on cue, Maniac sprinted past me as if pursued by the Grim Reaper himself. I wasn't far off; Panties was right behind him.

"I see," I replied. Maybe I should stop... Ah, fuck 'em. Besides, I was consumed by curiosity. "So, Zelda, how did I wind up, er, down on the roof?" I started to look up at my Dragon, still happily ensconced on the overhead, but quickly thought better of it.

Zelda regarded me sternly. "Chris, only an idiot like you would think of autosliding into a malfunctioning landing field! Do you have the faintest idea of the forces you're dealing with? That lamebrain maneuver killed your velocity, all right, but the field interaction rolled your ship. If I hadn't reversed the gravgen..."

"I might have known. Thanks, hon, for saving my life. Again."

"Well, you're welcome, hotshot," she said, grinning. "But your ignorance about autoslide is going to get you killed someday." She moved closer and put her arms around my neck. "I think you need some private tutor--"

Maniac ran by again, trying desperately to stay ahead of his pursuer. "Major," I warned absently, "Watch out for the--"

"YAAAAaaaaaa!"

"--reverse grav field."

THUD!

Panties skidded to stop just short of the field boundary. Exhausted from her long chase, she dropped to her knees and tried to catch her breath.

"Colonel Farnsworth," I scolded, "We can't afford to lose any more pilots right now."

Panties craned her neck upward, trying to see where Maniac had landed. "Don't worry, Earthworm," she replied, between gasps. "It's only a tenth of a G. Besides, looks like he landed on his head!"

End of Chapter 29

Previews from Chapter 30:

"That's my brave little girl!"

"Ahem. Before we go, I'd like to say something to all of you."

"Maniac! Anything you want! OK?"

"Hahaha! You poor schmuck, Blair!"

Chapter 30

Leaving the techs to retrieve my Dragon--and Maniac--from the roof, I made a quick inspection of the flight deck and service bays. I was relieved to find that, despite the flames I'd seen from space, the damage was relatively minor. There was a huge amount of debris scattered all over, however; it looked like every loose item on the ship had been dumped here. Flight ops would be impossible until it was all cleaned up. Barr already had a crew of deckhands on the job.

I headed for CIC to coordinate the repair efforts. When our frigates ran into Tolwyn's destroyers, they'd need all the fighter support Intrepid could deliver.

Commander Ander was there to welcome me. "Thank God you're back, sir!" he said. "Can you take over here? I gotta go help with the engines. In a few hours I think I can give you--"

"Forget the engines, Com," I interrupted. "Put your engineers to work on the flight deck and the weaponry. Intrepid's job now is to support the frigates. Oh, by the way, congratulations on fixing the firefighting system. There's hardly any fire damage at all to the service bays."

He looked at me strangely. "Er, the firefighting system is still jury-rigged, sir. When the fires started, somebody cut the gravgens and snuffed most of the flames. That's why we have so much stuff scattered all over: zero-G."

I looked at the mess on the deck. Gravgens? Who could-- Louise! So she'd taken my advice to heart after all!

"Well, good work, anyway, Commander. Now, I hear 'A' turret's batteries are dead? Can you get more?"

He shook his head. "That last torpedo sent a firestorm through the starboard electronics stores. It incinerated half our spares and all our batteries."

Damn! Think, Blair! "OK. Check the crew's personal electronics, appliances, and, er, sex toys. If you can't find any more AAAs, send a couple of your best engineers up to 'A' turret. See if they can adapt the, uh, weapons to some other battery size."

"Aye aye, sir."

"And get some Playboys from Major Marshall's kit. I promised Chief Morgenstern some for her fighter re-- What's wrong?"

Ander had a pained look on his face. "Er, we already checked the Major's kit, sir. The magazines are gone."

"What? Damn that Maniac! OK, OK, get going. I'll find out what he did with them myself."

"Aye aye, sir." He left the compartment at the run.

I headed over to the helm, where Lt. Pilotte was still faithfully on watch. I just had to smile. Stars could explode, empires might fall, the ship itself could disintegrate around her, but Skye would still be at her helm!

Though tired, she was in good spirits. "Welcome back, sir," she said. "That was an amazing victory you pulled off out there."

"Thanks, Lieutenant. You made some pretty nifty moves yourself. I don't know another helmsman in the galaxy who could have come through an attack like that. I'll see you get a commendation."

There was sadness on her face now. "Thank you," she whispered. "But the crew of the Ewok deserve it more."

"They'll get a unit citation, at the very least." I put my hand on her shoulder. "Our job now is to make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain. Are you OK until your relief?" She nodded. "Then carry on." I had business with Sosa.

Lt. Sosa was lying on her back under the comm console, an electronics tool kit at her side. An occasional curse told me her repairs were not going well.

I slid under the console beside her. "Can I give you a hand, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah, thanks," she answered gratefully. "Hold this cable out of the way while I patch these guides to the junction." With the cable held aside, she deftly made one connection after another. "When the second torpedo hit, I lost my link to the main sensors...Hah! There! Now would you scope that module over there? Yeah, that one."

I plugged the scope into the test socket and began running diagnostics. "Say, Velina? If we're in communication with Vesuvius, can you take control of their comm equipment, just for a few seconds?"

"Hand me that sonic screwdriver? Thanks. What makes you think Vesuvius will talk to us, Chris? Standard combat procedure is--"

"Here, hold this light a sec? I have a feeling they'll call us, hon. Tolwyn won't miss--a bit to the right--won't miss the chance to gloat before what he thinks is his final victory over me. Thanks, I'll take it now. But if you can bypass their safeties, I can address his crew directly, maybe turn some of them against him. Hmmm, this module's green."

"OK, Chris, I'll pull out the Vesuvius comm specs and get to work. But if your Lt. Garr's on board, and if he's as competent as you say, he'll put a stop to it in a second. Now check out that other one over there, please?"

"My pleasure. It's OK if he stops us. I just want Lemonlips diverted from our REAL purpose, which is to upload a computer virus--one that'll disable the shields on our command."

She stopped and looked at me in admiration. "Chris, dear, you are diabolical!"

"Thank you, Vee," I replied smugly. "Here, you were right: this module is fried. Got a spare?"

"Right here." She handed me the unit and crawled out to check the console.

I snapped in the spare and connected the cables. "Try it now."

"OK...yeah, it works, Chris. Thanks."

"No problemo." I replaced the inspection cover, crawled out, and watched as Sosa ran a full sensor sweep. Seeing all was A-OK, I started to leave. Sosa stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Chris, I know we're in the middle of a battle, but...ever since you told me about...your feminine side, I can't stop thinking about it. If we get out of this mess... Well, there's this game called...Naughty Teenage Sisters. Ever hear of it?"

Not again! "Er, no," I lied. "Too bad, I guess we can't--"

"That's OK, I can teach you." She giggled. "I just know you'll like it... Heather!"

Sheesh. "Uh... OK, OK, Vee, but it'll cost you. I'll do it if you tell me about that tattoo on your--"

"I have a better idea," she said playfully. Running one hand up the inside of my leg, she cooed, "Why don't we play Lesbian Nazi Interrogator instead? You can...DRAG it out of me. Get it? Drag? Heeheehee!"

Oh, jeez, she'd been around Maniac too long! "Uh, OK, Vee, if you insist. But there better be a good story BEHIND that tattoo. Get it? Behind?" Shit, Maniac was getting to me, too!

*

On the way to sick bay, my thoughts returned to the few minutes I'd spent under the console with Sosa. Making those repairs together, I'd felt closer to her than ever before, even when we shared the same bunk. That was really all I'd wanted ever since the War: to work side by side with the woman I loved; to build a life together. Of course, none of the current candidates wanted a life on my farm, but I could live in their world, couldn't I? Togetherness was the important thing, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

*

Sick bay was a busy place, though not nearly as busy as the first time I'd visited, nearly six weeks ago. I waited patiently in reception until a pharmacist's mate came out for the next patient.

"Oh, Colonel Vertig--er, Blair! Are you hurt, sir? I heard you had--Heehee! I heard there was a landing accident."

"Er, no, I'm fine. I'm looking for Major Marshall. He was brought in a little while ago."

"Oh, him." The mate grinned from ear to ear. "Forceps has him in the surgery. He'll be out shortly. Say, is it true he ran right into a reverse grav--"

"Uh, yeah. OK if I visit the wards while I wait?"

"Sure. Just don't excite the patients. Or get footprints on the overhead! Heehee!"

I started with the officers' ward, where my injured pilots were being tended. The wing had won an amazing victory, all right, but now I was looking at the bill. Nearly half my people were either dead or wounded, a few so badly it was a miracle they were still alive. Among them were several injured Confed fliers our shuttles had picked up after the dogfight. Looking at my wounded friends, I remembered again what Zelda had said before the Papillon 5 mission. Yeah, I'd gotten the job done, all right, and this time these people and their dead comrades had paid the price.

As I had so many times before, I went slowly down the rows of beds, giving what comfort I could. Meanwhile, the Wing Commander part of me--the bastard-- was coldly deciding which ones could return to duty in time for the next round. Lovey and Dovey, for instance, holding hands and smiling across the space between their beds, should be fit to fly in a couple of hours.

When I got to the last patient, I noted the curly dark hair, lovely hands, and familiar smile. "Well, if it isn't the human fly," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I knew you flyboys were crazy, Chris, but I didn't think you were suicidal!"

"Very funny, Louise." I grabbed a chair and sat down. "I hear someone shut down the gravgens during the attack and snuffed the fires." I winked at her. "Anybody I know?"

"Uh, I'll admit, sir, that I was wrong, before. And I WAS on my way to shut down the gravgens. But somebody else beat me to it." She gingerly moved her arm--the elbow was in a regen cast--and pointed to a shoebox on the table next to her bed.

I looked inside. There, on a bed of synthocotton, lay my parrot! She was covered up to her breast with WipeX, and a tiny regen pack was stuck to her head, from which most of the feathers had been removed. For once, my flighty friend had nothing to say.

Lou propped herself up on her good elbow and gazed admiringly at the bird. "She flew right by me, Colonel. Smacked into the gravgen control headfirst. Zero-G snuffed out most of the fires in few seconds. She's a hero!"

I noted the Purple Heart and Distinguished Flying Joystick pinned to the box. Reaching in to caress my pet's tummy feathers, I cooed, "That's my brave little girl!"

She opened her eyes and painfully croaked, "Rawwk, wotta hangover! Damn rotgut! Awwk!"

"Rest, honey," I soothed. I touched my lips to her beak and pulled the WipeX up a little further. She closed her eyes again.

Lou was smiling. "Your little friend saved the ship, Chris. When most of the fires were out, I switched the grav back on. Broke an elbow and an ankle in the fall, but I managed to get her to sick bay. Would you believe that old curmudgeon, Forceps, took care of her himself, like she was his own kid?"

I shook my head. "I'd have expected him to barbecue..." Just then I spotted Maniac hobbling in, assisted by an orderly. "Er, excuse me, Lieutenant, I have business with the Major."

Maniac held his hand to the regen pack on his head while he was being tucked in. His injury hadn't improved his temper any.

"Ow, careful there, kid! That old fart didn't give me enough painkiller! I demand--Hey, where are you goin'? I need-- Oh, Ace! Hey, I want that bitch, Farnsworth, arrested! Did you see her push me into that grav field? Lucky I'm so athletic, or I might have been k--"

"Shut up, Maniac!" I sat on his bed, causing him to moan again. "I'll make this short. Where--"

"Heehee!" chortled Maniac. "You said SHORT! But then, what ELSE could you make it, Ace? Hawhawhaw! Ow, my head."

"Maniac!" I grabbed the front of his hospital gown. "Where the hell did you stash your Playboys?"

Maniac immediately assumed an innocent look. "Playboys? Why, they're right under my bu--"

I shook him as hard as I could.

"Ow! Ow! My head! OK, OK! I hid them in the starboard electronics stores! I couldn't let you break up my collection! So sue me!"

"Look, pal, we just need a few-- Wait a sec! The electronics stores? You idiot, that whole area was burned out in the attack!"

"WHAT?" he squeaked. "NOOOOO! My whole collection? My 'Playmates of the 25th Century?' My-- Ohmygod! CHASTITY'S AUTOGRAPHED CENTERFOLD! Ohhhh...." He fainted dead away.

*

Leaving Maniac in the care of the exasperated medics, I returned to the flight deck to give Zelda the bad news. I found her under my Dragon, working deep inside the belly compartment.

"Zelda?" I called.

"Blairbear?" Her voice echoed faintly in the fighter. "Hi! Come on in here and give me a hand."

I stuck my head and shoulders up into the compartment and looked curiously at the unfamiliar rig. "Hi, hon," I said. "Whatcha working on?"

"I'm rigging a T-pak launcher," she said proudly. "My own design." At my sudden scowl, she hurriedly added, "Now, Blairbear, I know you don't like T-paks, but I want you to have the option. The wing's pretty shot up, and you may need it to stop Tolwyn."

She was right. I'd vetoed T-paks in Ellie Mae because we had an alternative. Against Vesuvius and her escorts, we might not.

I pulled off her dirty cap and kissed her grease-streaked forehead. "OK, hon. You always take good care of me, don't you?"

"And I always will, if you let me." She reached for my cheek, then hesitated.

I knew what had stopped her. "It's OK, hon," I said. "The T-pak symptoms are nearly gone." When she touched me, I felt a tingle, but that was all.

"I'm glad." She caressed me another moment, then got back to business. "Did you bring my Playboys, dear? We have five more Dragons to fit, and my techs are busy fixing the other--"

"Uh, the magazines are toast, hon. Burned up in the attack. We'll have to do it without the faeries."

"Rats. OK, help me finish this one, then we can do the rest together. Beats me what alien critters want with human girlie mags anyway."

I put on goggles, picked up a laser welder, and got to work. "Zelda, did it ever occur to you that our guests might be human?"

She stopped work and stared at me. "Human?"

"Yeah." I finished the starboard aft coupling and started welding the one to port. "Stowaways, maybe. Techs and engineers from the Orestes III dockyards. Human males. Hungry human males. Hungry, horny, human males."

Zelda went back to patching the launcher electronics into the Dragon system bus. "But if they're human, why hide? Why stow away at all? And how could humans be so damn efficient?"

I shrugged. "Beats me." I finished the last weld and took off my goggles. "But they're Border Worlders, right? And who can figure Border Worlders?"

Zelda avoided my eyes. "Er, you've got a point. Heh heh. Now, uh, get up in the cockpit and run a diag on this sucker."

*

For the next two hours, Zelda and I labored to install T-pak launchers on all six of Intrepid's Dragons. Lt. Homes' Dragon, of course, was on BWS THX, where he'd been forced to land when Intrepid's landing field failed.

Working next to Zelda, I was reminded again of my dreams of home and family. Could I forget my love of the soil and live again in a high-tech world? In the close quarters of the Dragon belly compartments, it almost seemed I could. Despite the pressure we were under, I think Zelda felt it, too; more than once I caught her looking at me and smiling.

Meanwhile, Intrepid's techs, pilots, and deckhands slaved away on our fighters, working desperately to get them ready for the second and decisive round of our battle with Tolwyn. Battle damage was patched, failed equipment replaced or jury-rigged, and deadly weapons of war loaded once again. At the same time, the ship's engineers continued repairs to Intrepid's landing field and weapons systems. They knew this one was for all the marbles.

I was up in the cockpit of the last Dragon, simulating a T-pak launch, when I got the comm from Sosa.

"Sir!" she called. "Vesuvius is requesting commlink!"

Hot damn! Good old Tolwyn! "Stall them, Lieutenant! Get the you-know-what ready. Oh, and be ready for them to try something similar on us! Tolwyn's a sneaky bastard!"

She smiled at me. "Roger! Sosa out!"

I vaulted from the cockpit and sprinted for the lift. So the old goat wanted to gloat, eh? Well, let him. If this worked, it would be the last time!

*

I burst into CIC and skidded to a stop in front of the briefing table. Sosa waved to me from behind the porta-potty, and I nodded back. I had a moment to catch my breath, and then the display came to life.

Hey, it wasn't Tolwyn! It was Lemonlips!

Lt. Vinson Garr gazed at me with undisguised hatred. "Well, the Fart of the Tiger at last! What kept you? Porking one of your Border World sows? Haha!"

Bastard. "Where's your master, Vinny? I don't have time to waste on lackeys."

"That's right," he snarled. "Your time is running out fast, renegade!" He touched a control.

The view changed to the inside of a luxurious cabin. Sitting at the console was Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn himself, his tailored uniform crisp and spotless as always.

"Ah, Colonel Blair," he said, smiling. "Punctual as ever. You know, my boy, I had hoped our second meeting would be under more auspicious circumstances."

Yeah, right.

"No, no, really, Colonel," continued Tolwyn, still smiling. "To be sure, your assignment to the frontier was mostly for show; your reputation would lend credence to the reports of Border World atrocities and fan the flames of war. But I had an ulterior motive, as well. You see, I admire you, Colonel, despite the disrespect you've shown me over the years. You and I are more alike than you care to admit: tenacious, dedicated, and we both get the job done, whatever the cost. Had you passed the test and remained loyal to Confed, I was prepared to offer you a place with the Black Lance."

He was? I could have been a holovid star after all?

"Alas, you chose to throw in with the subhumans..."

Damn, why did I--Whoops! Bite your tongue, Blair! "Happy to disappoint you, Admiral!" I said harshly, all the more so after my brief lapse. I glanced furtively toward the comm alcove, where Sosa was working furiously at her console.

The Admiral went on as if he hadn't heard me. "Regretable though it was, your defection was of course a godsend to my plan. Overnight the pipsqueak Border Worlds became a menace worthy of our heroic saga! My boy, with that one move, you more than doubled our future earnings! Many thanks."

That bastard! Unconsciously, I clenched and unclenched my fists, as if I had them around Tolwyn's throat.

The Admiral could barely contain his triumph. "And now, this epic race to Sol! Magnificant! Unparalleled drama! I fear the actual war will be an anticlimax after this episode! Ah, well, I'll leave that problem to the script writers." He permitted himself a little chuckle. "Anyhow, after I dispose of you and your brain-dead pets, I'll give a speech to the Dissembly that'll have them howling for war! It was a nice touch, don't you think, my earlier pose of scrupulous neutrality? My 'reluctant' accusations now will be all the more credible."

I glanced at Sosa again; she grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. Hah! She'd done it! I tried to simulate impotent fury while mentally rehearsing my speech to Tolwyn's crew.

The Admiral looked at his watch. "You'll pardon me if I end this now, Colonel. I have much to do. We won't meet a third time." He made a gun of his thumb and forefinger and fired it at me. "Catch you later! NOT!" He reached for his comm controls.

Suddenly I was looking at the bridge of the TCS Vesuvius! Yes! Good old Sosa! Quick, Blair! "Attention, Vesuvius! This is the Heart of the Tiger! Admiral Tolwyn is..." Hey! Nobody was paying any attention! What was going--

Lt. Garr appeared again, grinning triumphantly. "Well, well! The Snot of the Tiger again! Did you really think that flat-chested dyke of yours could outsmart ME? Tsk, tsk, Colonel, I expected better, even from you!"

Damn, how I hated that guy! Noting that Sosa was still busy at her console, however, I quickly got my emotions under control. Keep him talking, Blair!

"OK, Vinny, you won this one. But your boss will never make it to Sol. And even if he does, Papillon 5 knows the truth about him and his Black Lance. Right now the word is spreading at light speed. You've lost."

"Hahahaha! Oh, please! Once our Leader addresses the Dissembly, it's all over. Papillon 5 will be just one more nest of traitors to root out. You poor fool, all you did was hand us another great subplot! Heeheehee!"

Grrrr! If Sosa didn't hurry up, I'd smash the display with my bare hands! Goaded into rashness, I yelled, "Yeah? If you're counting on your boyfriend Theether to save your asses, then forget it! We waxed him and his pals back in Ellie Mae! Hah!"

He feigned sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry, Blair. Didn't I tell you? Theether wasn't in Ellie Mae. Oh no, he's gone ahead to Sol to stage another infamous atrocity for the evil Union of Border Worlds! Oh, and speaking of boyfriends, does your little dyke know about Black Lance Prime...HEATHER? Hawhawhaw! I can see the ads now! 'Blair Wars IV: The Heart of the Drag Queen!' Heehee! Whahahaha!"

He leaned closer, grinning lasciviously. "And don't worry about your medic fuck-bitch at Halcyon Station, sweetie. I'll take good care of her! She'll be glad to have a REAL man for a change! Harharhar!"

That's when I lost it. "Aaauuuggghhh! Vinny, you bastard, you touch her and I'll cut your fucking heart out with a--"

"Temper, temper!" he chided. "Not very lady-like, Heather. But enough girl talk, blondie. Must dash. Good-bye forever...Tart of the Tiger! Heeheehee!"

Insane with rage, I pounded futilely on the briefing table, Garr's last mocking laugh echoing in my ears. I hated that guy with a passion I hadn't felt since Thrakhath had butchered my beloved Angel. I'd finally made peace with him, but there could be none with Garr. If I ever got my hands on him, I'd rip out his lungs, tear off his--

At the tug on my sleeve, I whirled angrily. When I saw the sudden fear in Sosa's eyes, however, my rage dissipated in an instant. "Oh. Sorry, hon," I said. "He and I have a long history..."

"Yeah." She glanced at the blank display. "So I'm a flat-chested dyke, am I? Wait'll I drop his shields! We'll see if he laughs with a torpedo up his ass!"

Now THAT was a pleasant image!

*

I knelt by my bunk, pulled out my footlocker, and rummaged through the contents. This next fight could very well be my last, so I wanted my most precious keepsakes with me. I first took the vial of dirt from my farm, fingering it lovingly. My girls were safe with Zeke, but I missed them as badly as they must be missing me.

Next were the doll and teddy I'd salvaged from the Annabel Lee. Touching them reverently, I felt once again the cold rage that had possessed me when I came across them. If I had anything to say about it, Tolwyn and his accomplices would pay dearly for all the evil they'd done.

I chuckled over Heather's panties, but decided not to bring them; Ensign Watt's undergarment I likewise left behind, fretting that she and Disch were now in Tolwyn's clutches. Not that he'd kill them or my other friends from the Lexington; more likely he'd infect them with PAL, which was worse.

Speaking of PAL, should I bring Dr. Boddie's data cartridge? I'd promised to keep the secret of Planet 36-24-36, but what if my other evidence wasn't enough to convict Tolwyn? Did I have the right to inflict further suffering on those poor colonists? Yet how could I not, if the only alternative was freeing Tolwyn? I finally decided on a compromise: I'd keep it with me, but I'd make no copies, and use it only as a last resort.

I did, however, make six copies of the rest of our evidence, including my rec of Tolwyn's speech. If I didn't survive the next fight, someone had to get a copy to Earth.

Last, and definitely least, I took my holorec of Maniac's Miss July Inflatable session and put it in my pocket with the other cartridges. Then I deactivated the auto-post order on my Mc. If I lived, I'd hand the rec over to Maniac; if I died, it would die with me. Maniac had suffered enough.

I closed the footlocker and slid it back under the bunk. Before leaving, I pulled the draped blankets aside and gazed longingly at the snug love nest Panties had made for us. If only we'd had more time...

With a sigh, I turned and headed for the hatch. All my life, time had been my worst enemy.

*

I held the briefing in my service bay; with so few pilots left, there was no point in going through the squadron commanders. My people gathered around me, battered, weary, but unbeaten. Maniac, for example, though still limping and nursing his head wound, was full of fight.

"Come on, Ace!" he growled. "Let's get this show on the road! I want some payback for my Playboys!"

I barely kept a straight face. "Patience, Major. I want everyone on the same wavelength first." I waited until Barr signalled that the comm link to the frigates was up, then began.

"OK, here's the situation: Now that Tolwyn has sent his destroyers ahead, our positions are reversed. To get through the jump point, we have to come to him. That means we have to fight in the new Confed sensor fields, and our Dragon cloaks will be useless."

I paused a moment to let that sink in. "We wiped out their Longbows in the last fight, but the Confeds still have over forty Hellcats. We'll have to fight our way through them to get at the destroyers. We won't make the same mistake the Confeds made; we'll stick together and cover one torpedo run at a time. Tex? Your Avengers will make the first run. How many ships available?"

Tex stepped forward. "Just four, sir. I'll lead the first section; September has the second. We'll single out one destroyer and fire all our torpedoes, then we help cover the next run."

I nodded. "Thanks, Tex. OK, Hulk has the next wave: our four patched-up Vindicators. Hulk?"

All eyes turned to Hulk. "Vindicators help cover Avengers first. Then we torpedo second destroyer. But Blair know, Hulk wingmen leftover Avenger pilots? Blair not expect too much."

I smiled. "Just do your best, Hulk. I'm sure your pilots will be fine." I didn't mention that I would consider their run a success if they just dragged a goodly number of Confeds under our Banshee and Dragon guns. Knowing they were Hellcat bait would not be good for their morale.

"OK. That leaves the Dragons for the third and last run. We have seven left, counting Lt. Homes--but only six with torpedoes and T-paks. Rubberhose?"

"RubberDUCKY!"

"You take Hulk's Dragon. Try to take better care of this one." I smiled at him, and he grinned back sheepishly. "That should be enough to finish off the third destroyer and any survivors from the first two attacks. Just to make sure, the frigates will try and close with the Confeds during our attack, when the destroyers will be too busy maneuvering to lock on their capmis launchers. Questions?"

There were none. "Good. Primate, you launch first and join up with the other seven Banshees from the frigates." He caught his can of banana nectar and clutched it to his chest joyfully. I didn't tell him it was my last; the bulge in my hip pocket was actually a can of mango juice. It was a dirty trick, but with Excell in sick bay, I had no one else to lead our surviving Banshees.

I glanced at Panties. "Ahem. Before we go, I'd like to say something to all of you." Remembering the Border World tradition of pre-battle speeches, I had come prepared this time with a few inspirational remarks. "This action we're about to fight will be the most important in history. Before, against the Kilrathi, we fought only for humanity's survival. Today, we're fighting for its very soul. If we lose, our children are condemned to war without end."

I paused for effect. "But we WON'T lose! We're going to WIN! So, everybody, gimme a 'V'!"

My pilots stared at me blankly.

Why me, God? I struggled to keep my temper. "Look, people, when I ask you for a letter, you just yell it out, OK? Now, let's try it again. Gimme a 'V'!"

This time most of them answered, a bit uncertainly, "V."

"Good. Now gimme--"

"Uh, Earthworm," interrupted Panties. "I don't think this is a good--"

"Shut up, Panties!" I was on a roll. I knew these simpletons pretty well by now, and this was just the sort of mindless exercise they loved. "Now gimme an 'I'!"

As I expected, their response was louder and more enthusiastic. "I!"

"Gimme a 'C'!"

"C!" This time they roared it.

"Hulk like this game! Huh-huh. Huh-huh."

"Gimme a 'T'!"

"T!"

"Gimme an 'O'!"

"O!"

"Gimme an 'R'!"

"R!"

"Gimme a 'Y'!"

"Y!"

Now for the big finish. "What's that spell?"

"Er, 'Viceroy?'"

"'Vibrator'?"

"No, 'vicinity!'"

"Nah, it's 'vindicator!'"

"I thought it was 'vicarious!'"

"Viking?"

"No, stupid, 'viking' has a 'K', not a 'C'!"

"Hey, 'C' can sound like 'K'!"

"Wait, I know! It's 'visionary!'"

"That's not it..."

"Colonel, could you repeat the question?"

Aaaargh! Leave it to the damn stupid Border Worlders to spoil a perfect pep talk! Panties was no help; she was slumped against the bulkhead, laughing her fool head off. I'd have to turn this fiasco around myself.

Clenching my teeth to keep from screaming, I said, "Look, never mind what it spells, OK? Let's just go out there and kick Tolwyn's butt!"

That, at least, was a concept they could understand. "Yeah! Kick butt! Kick butt! Kick butt!"

Better. Next time I used a spelling cheer--if there was a next time--I'd pick one with four letters or less. "OK, dismissed! And good luck! Puff Squadron, let's huddle!"

I waited while the other five Dragon pilots gathered around me. I noted that Maniac was careful to keep me between him and Panties.

"Great pep talk, Ace!" he said sarcastically. "So what were you trying to spell, anyway?"

"Er, it was 'virginity,' Maniac."

"Hah! I knew it! As in what Vesuvius is going to lose when we get in torpedo range, right, Ace? Haha ha! Did I tell you I was on my high school spelling team?"

"Ah, no. Must have been quite a team."

With everyone present, I shifted gears. "OK, boys and girls, it's a new game here. Do not cloak under any circumstances unless all the capships are dead or disabled; their sensors can paint you for the Hellcats, so there's no point. When targeted by a missile, use decoys and evade. Our job is to kill Hellcats, period, so use everything you have." Maniac brightened considerably on hearing that; he loved the Dragon fusion guns.

I distributed the data cartridges. "Take good care of these, people. If I don't make it, hop into Eczema on a frigate, and then take your Dragon to Earth. Whether or not we stop Tolwyn, one of these cartridges has to get to the Dissembly. Clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Right."

"Gotcha."

"Don't worry, Ace! Neither snow nor sleet nor asteroids nor comets--"

"Shut up, Maniac! Now, wing assignments: Lovey and Dovey, of course. Homes, you listening?"

Homes replied over the commlink, "Yes, sir!"

"After launch, you join up with Rubberyucky."

"RubberDUCKY!"

"Whatever." I turned to Panties. "Colonel, care to fly my wing?"

She grinned back. "Try and stop me, hotshot!"

In spite of myself, I felt a little thrill at her words. "Er, good. Maniac, that leaves you odd man out--in more ways than one, heh heh. So I'm turning you loose. You're on your own, pal."

Maniac gaped at me. "No kidding? Jeez, it's about time you recognized my talent, Ace! Man, am I going to rack up the kills today! Just make sure none of you losers get in my way! Haha ha!"

"Don't worry, Major," replied Panties. "I think I speak for all of us when I say I'm going to stay as far away from you as possible."

*

Zelda was waiting for me at my Dragon, worry written all over her face. She kissed my flight helmet and handed it to me. "Come back to me, Chris," she whispered.

I tried to be cheerful, for her sake. "Hey, don't I always? Besides, this time you're in as much danger as I am. If I know Tolwyn, he'll try to decoy us with a missile attack on Intrepid. We can't spare any fighters to defend you, so promise me you'll find a safe place to ride out the attack. OK?"

"OK, Honeyblair, if you'll promise ME something." She leaned closer, until her lips were mere centimeters from my ear. "Sosa told me about your...feminine side, and I...well, I'd like to get to know that side, myself...Heather."

Oh, Christ. "Let me guess, Zelda: you want to play games, right? Hon, you hadn't even been with anyone until a few days ago! What do you know about--"

"Hey!" she said indignantly. "I've fantasized about you day and night ever since I hit puberty, studmuffin! Besides, you can find anything on the GGG..."

She had me there. "Uh, OK. So what did you have in mind?"

After a moment's hesitation, she shyly whispered, "Sorority Pledge Night," and giggled nervously.

"Ah, gee, Zelda, that sounds like, er, fun. Well, gotta go. Heh heh." I quickly climbed up into the cockpit before she could realize I hadn't actually agreed to her request.

As I ran through pre-flight, I reflected on my prospective companions and their kinky tastes. Shit, was I doomed to spend the rest of my sex life in drag? Jeez, God, why didn't you just infect me with PAL and get it over with?

*

Once in space, we formed up and flew ahead to join the frigates. We had a few minutes before I had to be the Wing Commander again, so I commed Panties on a tight beam.

"Comm check, Panties. It's...good to have you on my wing again."

Her reply was prompt. "Me, too. I missed you, Chris. I feel like this is where I belong."

I had to swallow a lump in my throat before I could reply. "Maybe this is where I belong, too, Tamara. Anyway, stick to me like glue. I don't want to lose you now."

"Roger, Earthworm. And you watch your pretty little ass, too."

I checked the threat indicator. Yeah, as I had feared, we were already in the advanced sensor fields of the approaching Confed destroyers. As an experiment, I had Panties cloak; the Confed sensors painted her as if nothing had changed. We'd just have to do this the hard way.

BWS THX and Tie had already altered course toward the Confeds when we joined up with their Banshees. The Confeds, too, though only minutes away from the jump point, had changed course to close with our frigates. Now in a triangular formation, surrounded by their Hellcat escort, they were an imposing force.

I led our fighters around their flank, approaching the corner position held by TCS Aladdin. In response, the Confed fighters swarmed out to meet us while the other two destroyers moved closer to the Aladdin to lend support. Our two frigates, still out of capmis range, countered by moving toward the other Confed flank. The TCS Lion King and Pocahontas were forced to turn toward them and away from the Aladdin.

Perfect. Time to start our run.

"Go, Tex! Everyone else cover Skunk Squadron!"

"Hulk affirmative."

"Primate aye!"

"Fuck you, Ace!"

A lone Dragon left our formation and blazed at the oncoming Hellcats. I tuned to the general channel and got an earful.

"Hello, losers! Maniac's my name, death is my game! Take THIS!" Whoom! Two incandescent fireballs screamed from his fighter. Kaboom! A ball of flame marked his first victim. "Woohoo! Down in flames! I'm HOT today! Get it? Hot? Haha--YIKES!"

Maniac broke off his taunting to evade a swarm of missiles. Surrounded by pissed-off Confeds, he was immediately caught up in the fight of his life.

Well, good riddance. Maniac had done his job and drawn off several Hellcats. The rest of us plunged into the oncoming formation. Hulk's Vindicators, a few thousand klicks behind the Avengers and feigning a torpedo run, suddenly pounced on a squadron of Hellcats angling for Skunk Squadron. The surprised Confeds, though outnumbering Hulk three to one, broke off their attack and became entangled with the Vindicators.

Panties and I tackled a flight of four Hellcats coming head-on at Tex. I lined up one at zero deflection--the most reliable angle for the fusion guns--and nailed him with a double overcharge. His guns took down my forward shields, and I had to squander two decoys to lose his missiles. I lined up behind a second Hellcat and started locking a leech, dimly aware that Panties had broken away to keep two more off my tail. I took an IR that rattled my teeth--fired from some anonymous Confed--but I managed to stay lined up until final lock. Launch! Splat! Scratch another Confed!

I took stock. Both sides had suffered heavy losses in the initial flurry. Far ahead of me, Tex and September were approaching the firing point under withering laser fire from the Aladdin. Tex acquired lock first, but held his fire until September was ready. They launched together, then pulled hard to evade a gaggle of missiles on their tails. Tex slipped missile lock, but flew right into a pair of laser bolts; in the glare of the explosion, I couldn't see a pod. September took two IRs on her damaged rear armor. Her escape pod was caught in the blast and sent tumbling.

KER-BLAM! KER-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM! The TCS Aladdin staggered under a series of torpedo impacts. When the glare of the blasts had faded, I could see gaping holes in her side armor and the flicker of internal explosions deep in her guts. Yeah, the Terminator class was big and tough, but Tex and September had cut TCS Aladdin down to size. This Terminator would definitely NOT be back!

No time to gloat! The other two Confed destroyers were closing in on our frigates! Time for Hulk to strut his stuff!

"Hulk! Target the Pocahontas! Banshees and Dragons, cover--"

"Can not do! Hulk in bad shape! Wingmen gone!" Screech! Screech! Kaboom! "Yes! Look at Hellcat burn! Huh-huh! Huh-huh!" Bam! Bam! "Hulk done for! Ejecting!" Kaboom!

Shit. We'd have to do it ourselves. "Puff Squadron! Follow me!"

"Quack quack!"

"Lovey and Dovey aye!"

"Coming, Chris!"

"Hey, don't forget the Maniac!" Whoom! Kaboom! "Haha ha! Chalk up another for the Maniac!"

Jesus, the big jerk was still alive! He must have 99 lives! Ominously, there was no response from Lt. Homes.

We lit afterburners and streaked toward TCS Pocahontas. Archie and Valentina had to peel off to deal with several intercepting Hellcats, but the rest of us made a beeline for the Poca-- Oh shit! The Confeds were in capmis range! They were launching at our frigates!

I punched the comm. "Rubberband!"

"RubberDUCKY!"

"Take the closer capmis! Panties, Maniac, NAIL THAT DESTROYER!" I changed course to intercept the missile fired from the TCS Lion King.

Come on, come on... I fingered my plasma guns. Steady...Fire! KABOOM! Gotcha! Oh hell, the Lion King was launching again! Damn, those Terminators reloaded fast!

"Quack quack! Scratch one cap--Yikes, another one!" No shit, Rubber!

Executing a tight turn to engage the Lion King's second missile, I noted two torpedo blasts on the Pocahontas and a triumphant yell from Maniac.

"Yeehaa! Two hits for the Maniac! Haha ha!"

Panties wasn't buying it. "They were MY hits, Major! Yours missed by a good two klicks!"

"Oh yeah? Who says, bitch? I laid 'em in sweet and--"

"Will you two SHUT UP?" I screamed. "They're barely scratched! Get in there and follow up with missiles!"

Too late! They were engulfed by Hellcats and forced to fight for their lives. I closed in on the second capmis and nailed it a scant two thousand klicks from BWS Tie. Already, a third was on its way.

Captain Mai appeared on my comm screen. "Earthworm!" he screamed. "Activity at the jump point! Looks like another destroyer coming through! Reading power signature...Terminator class...It's the TCS St. Melons!"

St. Melons? Oh yeah, the first of the new ships funded by the religious revivalists. She was named after a reformed stripper, Honey Dew Melons, who had founded an order of nuns in Port Aphrodite. Her sister ships, St. Tushy and St. Booty, were still fitting out.

I detonated the third capmis head-on, then pulled hard to escape the debris. A quick check of my instruments showed the new Confed destroyer approaching at full speed, fighters launching from her aft flight deck.

My heart sank. We were screwed! We still had the T-paks, of course, but against another destroyer and fresh fighters, they'd be all but impossible to deliver. Maybe a strategic re-- Wait! The TCS Lion King was turning away from our frigates! She was moving to engage the St. Melons!

Captain Mai commed me again. "Earthworm, Union comm codes! It must be--"

"--Captain Eisen!" I exulted. "Hot damn! He made it!" I switched to the St. Melons. "Earthworm here! Good to have you back, Captain Eisen!"

Wait a sec! The face on my screen wasn't Captain Eisen's! "St. Melons here!" said the face. "HiyaColonelhowyabeen?"

My God! It was-- "Rollins? ROLLINS? What the hell are YOU doing here?" His insignia showed him to be a Lieutenant Commander, but he was sitting in the command seat on the St. Melons' bridge!

He grinned back at me. "That's CAPTAIN Rollins to you, Colonel! I was Second Officer of a naval transport. We were docked at Starbase Thorn when Captain Eisen dropped in. When he showed us his evidence, a bunch of us hijacked the St. Melons and took off to nail Tolwyn."

"But where did you learn to command a--"

"--a starship? Remember back on the old Victory? I was taking correspondence courses! And you thought I spent all my time spreading rumors! Heh heh." He held up a data cartridge so I could read the title:

STARSHIP COMMAND FOR DUMMIES

God help us. "Uh, so where's Captain Eisen?"

"He went on to Earth. Er, look, Colonel, I'd love to chat, but we have kind of a situation..."

"Right! You take the Lion King! We'll take the Pocahontas!" No time to worry about that idiot Rollins in command of a warship! The Pocahontas was already exchanging gunfire with our frigates.

A new pilot appeared on my comm. "Barfly here with four Bearcats. How can we assist, Earthworm?"

I zoomed off in pursuit of another capmis aimed at BWS Tie. "Get those 'cats off our fighters, Barfly! We can't hit the Pocahontas with them all over us!"

"Roger! Melon Collies, follow me!" I watched them plunge into the fray, then turned my attention back to the capmis. Shoot, Blair! A miss! Another! Oh, God, it was getting close...

I was now in the line of fire between the Pocahontas and the Tie. The Confed was concentrating on BWS Tie, trying to take out one of its opponents before their combined firepower could tell. With titanic energies flaring all around me, I bit my lip and tried to concentrate on my target. Last chance, Blair! Line up...shoot! KERBLAM!

Too late! The capmis detonated a mere hundred meters from the frigate! Her shields, already weakened by the destroyer's main batteries, couldn't hold back the blast. Badly wounded, the BWS Tie slowed and turned aside, her main guns silenced.

The Pocahontas began swinging toward the BWS THX. Despite the help from the St. Melon's fighters, our Dragons were still tangled up with the Hellcats. Off in the distance, the St. Melons and the Lion King were beating each other into scrap metal. The Pocahontas had lost half her main battery to the frigates' fire, but one capmis could turn the tide decisively in Tolwyn's favor.

Well, it had been my plan that failed, so it was up to me to retrieve the situation. I armed my two torpedoes and afterburned head-on at the TCS Pocahontas. Her forward shields were down; if I could just plant my warheads near the capmis launcher...

Bam! Bam! Shit, Hellcat on my tail! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoydecoydecoy! Hah! Lost the-- WhoopwhoopWHAMMO! Aft shields down! Bam! Clang! Losing armor! I wiggled the stick as much as I dared, but my options were limited if I wanted to maintain torpedo lock. Bam! Clang! I was getting it from the Hellcat behind and the destroyer in front! Not enough time! I had to--

"I'll get him, Earthworm!" It was Barfly! Whoosh! Blam! Screech! Screech! Screech! Kaboom! "You're clear, Colonel!"

Locked! I launched my two torpedoes and pulled as hard as I could. KERBLAM! KERBLAM! The bow of the Pocahontas was a mass of twisted metal.

I was still trembling after my close call. "Whew!" I sighed. "Just in time, Barfly! Just in time!"

"How did you know, Earthworm?" asked Barfly. I couldn't see his expression behind his faceplate, but he sounded puzzled. "I didn't think you recognized me!"

"Huh? Recognized you?"

He opened his faceplate. "Captain Justin Thyme, at your service, sir!"

I squinted my eyes, peering closer at the screen... "Hey, you're the bum from that bar in Port Glomerulus!"

"Bum no longer, Colonel, thanks to you!" He flashed a grin. "But I'll save that story for another time. Right now we got--"

"--a destroyer to nail. Come on, help me cover our torpedo attack." Woohoo! St. Melons and Lion King had fought each other to a standstill; they were licking their wounds just out of gunfire range. The Aladdin was out of action, and the Pocahontas soon would be. None of the Confeds were in any shape to jump, but Intrepid--damaged though she was--could still make the hop. Hot diggity, we'd won!

Sosa suddenly appeared on the comm, her eyes wide with fear. "Earthworm!" she screamed. "Vesuvius is closing!"

Aarrgghh! How could I have forgotten Tolwyn's flagship? I checked my scope. The TCS Vesuvius was gaining rapidly on Intrepid, which in her damaged state was too slow to escape. Vesuvius carried no heavy guns or capship missiles, but with all our main batteries out of action, her two hundred lasers held the balance of power. She could pick off our wounded ships at her leisure and then take Tolwyn to Sol. He'd won after all!

No! "Barfly! Take your Bearcats and use the rest of your missiles on the Pocahontas! Make sure she's put out of action! Puffs, let's go get Tolwyn!"

Barfly acknowledged immediately. "Roger, Earthworm! Er, 'Puffs?'"

I had no time to explain to him. As we blazed for Vesuvius, the few remaining Hellcats broke away from the St. Melons' fighters to pursue us.

I counted noses, and came up one short. Shit, Rubbersole was missing. So how many torpedoes did we have left?

"OK, Puff Squadron, who's packing?"

Archie appeared on my comm screen. "Just Lovey and Dovey, sir! Dovey's got armor damage and I'm out of missiles."

Shit, even if we disabled her shields, four torps would do little damage to the Vesuvius. We had to attack a vulnerable area. "Lovey! Dovey! Take her up the ass! We'll cover! Panties, form on my wing!"

"You got it, Earthworm! Ready to dance!"

Good girl, Panties. We screamed past the Vesuvius, laser bolts blazing past us on all sides. Twenty thousand klicks behind her, we executed a U-turn. Archie and Valentina killed afterburner to leave themselves enough room to acquire torpedo lock. Panties and I went head-on at the last six Hellcats.

With only two missiles left, I had to make them count. Bobbing and weaving, I dodged concentrated particle and ion gun fire to close in. Locking...launch! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoydecoydecoy! Missed! Splat! One down!

Splat! "Score one for the good guys!" God, I loved that woman!

Bam! Bam! Shit, one on my tail! And my aft armor is scrap! Evade!

"I'll get him, Chris!" Screech! Screech! Kaboom! "Score one for the--" Bam! Bam! "Uh-oh! I need some help, Earthworm!"

Two on her tail! I turned to take one head-on. Switch to fusion guns, build up a charge...whoom! BAM! He's limping off, but the other one is tearing Panties apart! And I'm way out of position!

Wait, a Dragon was coming to her rescue!

"Hey, bitch! Want some help?"

Maniac! Please, God, don't let Panties--

"Go fuck youself, pinhead!" screamed Panties. Careening on the verge of losing control, her fighter falling apart around her, she would still rather die than accept Maniac's help.

I wasn't so damn proud. "Maniac! Anything you want! OK?"

"Deal!" he replied smugly. Swooping in on afterburner, he nailed Panties' tormentor with a masterpiece of a fusion blast.

It was too late for Panties, however. Her Dragon lasted long enough for her to eject safely, and then it blew.

No time to worry about her! Lovey and Dovey were in launch range! Not surprisingly, Vesuvius was taking no evasive action. Normally her shields would be proof against a mere four torpedoes, but they didn't know--Yes! Sosa had sent the code to disable her shields! Vesuvius was bare-ass! Hah! I'd give anything to see the expression on Tolwyn's face right now!

The two Dragons launched at close range and tried to pull out. They had suffered heavily on the way in, however, and their performance was sluggish. Lovey and Dovey ejected within seconds of each other, barely escaping the double explosion of their fighters.

Gloating, I watched the torpedoes all the way in. It was a perfect four- warhead pattern. Without her engines, Vesuvius would be easy--Hey! Her shields were back up! BLAM-M-M-M! The torpedoes detonated harmlessly against the energy screens.

Lt. Garr appeared on my comm screen. ""Hahaha! You poor schmuck, Blair! I spotted that virus the second your beanpole bitch tried to plant it! Give it up, loser! Hahaha!"

Damn, I hated that guy!

Wait, Intrepid was turning to unmask "A" turret! Had they found batteries for their faerie weapons? But the range--

SCREEE! Ear-piercing comm static! Forgetting my helmet, I tried to cover my ears. A brilliant violet beam lanced out toward the Vesuvius! BLAM! Jesus, the bolt pierced her port bow like it was paper!

Sosa popped up on the comm and screamed, "ThatsforCatnipyoumotherfuckers!"

Nearly deaf from two major assaults on my eardrums, I reached for the volume control. I froze, however, when my telemetry showed an explosion on Intrepid's starboard bow. Oh shit, "A" turret was gone! Not Yanni, too!

Trembling, I hit the comm. "Maniac! It's up to us! Arm T-pak and form on my wing!" Time for some payback.

Maniac had chased the last two Hellcats out of the fight, and consequently was closer to Vesuvius than I was. "That's a negatory, Ace!" he replied cockily. "No way you're stealing my glory this time! I'm taking that bastard Tolwyn out myself!" He lit burner and zeroed in on Vesuvius.

The supercarrier had momentarily turned aside when she was hit by Intrepid's secret weapon, but resumed the chase when there was no followup. Already, her lasers were firing ranging shots.

Cursing Maniac all the way, I armed my T-pak and went to afterburner. Dammit, we should be going in together to split her fire!

Jinking desperately, Maniac closed on his target. Predictably, his shields were quickly battered down by Vesuvius' concentrated fire. "Hey, Blair, you chickenshit!" he yelled, his fighter staggering from repeated hits. "Where the hell are you? You order me in and then you hold back? Try backing me up, old-timer!"

I bit back my retort and concentrated on my target. I tried not to think of the men and women I was condemning to horrible death. Vesuvius was just a thing, a horrible, undead engine of destruction.

"Take THAT, losers!" Maniac had loosed his T-pak and was clawing his way out of Vesuvius' laser fire. "Sorry, Ace, but the best man won! Haha ha! I'm the hero, you're the goat!"

The T-pak impacted dead amidships and activated. I had to admit, the big goof had pulled off an incredible feat. I broke off my run and waited for the weapon to take effect. Any second now, Vesuvius would begin to falter as her crew laughed themselves to death... Any second... Any time...

My comm screen lit up again. Oh, shit! It was Lt. Garr again! He was lounging back in his seat, inspecting his nails with elaborate nonchalance. "Oh, you again, Blair," he said casually. "Say, did I ever tell you about the spaced armor on this ship? It was designed to give improved protection against torpedo impacts, but coincidentally it makes us invulnerable to tickle weapons as well." He dropped all pretense of indifference and laughed maniacally. "Hoohoowhahahaha! You're tenacious, Phlegm of the Tiger, I'll give you that, but we're invincible! Hahahahaha!"

Angrily I cut him off, too enraged to listen any more. Tolwyn had won! Worse, Lemonlips had won! My face burned with the shame of failure.

Maniac faced the situation with his usual optimism. "Shit, Ace! That damn buck-toothed bitch of yours fucked up my T-pak! We're screwed! I told you not to mess with Tolwyn, but ooooh nooooo, you wouldn't listen!"

Damn that Maniac! I'd like to shove my T-pak right up his-- Hey, that's it!

"Maniac, you're a genius! Come on, cover me!" I lit burner and turned to get behind Vesuvius.

Maniac, for once, followed my orders and limped after me at the best speed his crippled Dragon could make. "You got an idea, Ace? What is it? Oh God, please make it a GOOD idea for once!"

Oh yeah, this was one of my best. "Vesuvius' armor is on the OUTSIDE, right, Maniac? I'm gonna stick my T-pak right up her tail! Now get in there and draw some of her fire!" I lined up straight behind Vesuvius at fifteen thousand klicks and killed my afterburner.

"That's your brilliant idea?" wailed Maniac. "Zigzag at five hundred kps and thread a needle a few thousand klicks away? You're crazier than I thought!" Nevertheless, he turned his fighter and lit burner to lead me in.

Far ahead, Intrepid's shields were flashing with hits from Tolwyn's lasers. Her feeble return fire was totally ineffective. Grimly, I concentrated on my flying. Don't think about your friends on the Intrepid, Blair. Don't think about the millions who'll die if you fail. Just think about that damn flight deck entrance. It's big and easy, Blair, big as the Grand Canyon and just begging for your load.

But the closer I got, the smaller it looked. This was crazy! Nobody could hit anything that tiny! Frantically, I weaved between laser bolts and cranked up my optical magnification until it would go no further. My target continued to shrink until it seemed a mere postage stamp.

"We can't win this one, Ace!" screamed Maniac. "I'm poppin' the top!" Maniac ejected a moment before a laser bolt detonated his Dragon's power plant.

The laser fire around me redoubled. Unconsciously I hunched down in a futile attempt to take shelter.

And then, just when I needed all my powers of concentration, I was distracted by a strange, distant voice in the back of my mind. Its soothing, cultured English accent tugged at memories just beyond retrieval.

"Chris," it said. "trust your feelings. Let go. Use the--"

"Shut up!" I screamed at myself. "I'm trying to concentrate!" Bam! Bam! Shit! Distracted, I'd flown right into a double laser blast!

The haunting voice persisted. "But aren't you the guy from--"

"No! I'm not! Now piss off!" My concentration in tatters, I waggled the stick desperately. Even with all gun power routed to the shields, I was getting chopped to pieces. Red lights appeared on my instrument panel.

The launch point was rapidly approaching! Hands shaking, I poised my thumb over the launch button. OK, Blair, it's a forlorn hope, but aim right down the--

The voice was back! "Are you SURE you're not--"

Startled, I nearly jumped out of my seat. "Will you shut the FUCK up?" Too late! I had inadvertently launched the T-pak! Oh no, no, NO! Our last hope was gone!

Despairing, I peeled off and hit burner. Limping away at a bare eight hundred kps, I turned to watch Intrepid's final moments. Shields down, she was being methodically picked apart by Vesuvius' lasers.

My comm lit up again, revealing the leering face of Lt. Lemonlips. "You watching, Blair?" he gloated. "Your friends don't have much--" His triumphant expression was suddenly replaced by one of stark terror. "What the hell? OH NO! EEEYAHAHAHAHA!"

Holy shit! By some miracle, I'd managed to plant my T-pak right on target! As Vesuvius' guns fell silent, debris and bodies began spewing from one of her starboard airlocks. Over the comm I heard a chorus of hysterical laughter. Vinny had collapsed out of view, but in the background a female comm officer was convulsing helplessly in her seat.

Frantic with worry, I broke the connection and commed Intrepid. After what seemed like an eternity, Sosa answered. The picture was fuzzy, but I could make out a nasty cut on her forehead and smoke in the background.

"Intrepid!" I called. "Vesuvius is neutralized. What's your status?"

"Intrepid aye," she croaked. "W-we're in bad shape here, Chris. [cough cough] Life support failing. Emergency power only. Losing...air." She paused to wipe some of the blood out of her eyes with her sleeve.

Shit! I frantically checked my scope. None of our other ships were in any shape to lend assistance. Even the St. Melons was barely making headway. The hostile environment of space would soon kill my shipmates unless--

Of course! "Sosa!" I yelled. "Abandon ship! Get everyone to Vesuvius! Send the engineers first to make repairs!"

I cut her off before she could reply. More airlocks had opened on Vesuvius, her shields were down, and her engines were faltering. I had to destroy that T-pak before the agonized thrashings of her crew sent her tumbling.

I cautiously approached Vesuvius from the rear, optic assists on max. Where was that damn--There! A third of the way into her cavernous flight deck, the T-pak was stuck to a vertical bulkhead, still vibrating furiously.

I had one tachyon cannon still functional. Cursing my wounded and shuddering Dragon, I carefully lined up my shot. Steady...screech! BLAM! Woohoo! Got it in one! What a shot! Am I the Heart of the Tiger, or what!

Checking Vesuvius' landing field, I found that, miraculously, it was still functional. It took me but a minute to land and taxi into an empty service bay. I took a few moments to use the relief kit--thankfully, the Dragon was equipped with an extra large one--before I popped the canopy. The flight deck still had air, but I was taking no chances. Leaving my helmet on, I slid down to the deck.

All around me, techs and deckhands were lying motionless. Were they dead? I knelt next to a tech, removed my gauntlet, and felt for his pulse. It was rapid and irregular, but he was alive. Good. Too many people had already died from this insanity.

Grinning wickedly, I stood up and drew my photon pistol. Now to find that bastard Tolwyn and blow his fucking brains out!

End of Chapter 30

Previews from Chapter 31:

"Blindfold?"

"I believe in you, Chris Blair."

"You're beaten, Heart of the Chump! Beaten by the ultimate warrior!"

"Seize that man!"

Chapter 31

I paused just outside the hatch to the Vesuvius' bridge. So far I had seen nothing but unconscious crewmen, but I was taking no chances. Tolwyn was a sneaky bastard, and I wouldn't put it past him to have some kind of defense against even the T-pak.

Taking a deep breath, I activated the door and plunged through. Diving to one side, I came up in a kneeling position behind a console, tensely waving my weapon in search of targets.

There were none. Everyone on the bridge was unconscious.

Cautiously, I rose to my feet and approached the command seat from behind. As the white hair of my victim came into view, I smiled grimly and raised my photon pistol. Tolwyn's mad dream was about to end with a bang, not a whimper, as a photon charge flash-boiled his brain and splattered it all over--

Except that the hair was too long; it wasn't Tolwyn!

Disappointed, I spun the seat around. The white-haired occupant was a captain, not an admiral, and his name tag read "Blyght," not "Tolwyn." Yeah, I had heard of Captain Blyght, an officer with a good record and a reputation as a disciplinarian. Was he a conspirator, too, or was he just another innocent victim, like the rest of the crew?

No time for speculation. I hurriedly pulled the comatose helmswoman away from the controls and checked the autopilot. I made a few minor adjustments to keep the ship stable, reduced speed to dead slow, then moved to the sensor station. There I noted shuttles in the landing pattern; a glance at the flight ops station showed the landing field still steady. The autoland system had engaged itself when the first shuttle entered the pattern and received no answer to its clearance request.

I transferred comm control to the bridge--Vinny certainly wouldn't object, heh heh--and raised Intrepid again. Though somewhat less fuzzy than before, Sosa's image still flickered and cut out occasionally, testimony to the pounding the ship had taken.

"Hi, Chris," she said, managing to muster a wan smile. There was a regen patch over her cut, and she'd cleaned most of the blood off her face. "Good work on Vesuvius. Our first shuttle should be there now." She hesitated a moment before going on. "Chris, the crew of Vesuvius...are they...?"

"Alive," I answered. "Most of them, anyway. Listen, I want you to contact the other ships and call a truce. There's nothing to gain from further fighting, and we have a lot of wounded to tend. Vesuvius has the best facilities, so the ones we can move should be sent here. I want healthy Union survivors armed, and a guard on Vesuvius' armory. Disarm the incoming Confeds, but don't treat 'em like prisoners. When they see our evidence, they'll be on our side anyway. Got it?"

"Right, sir. Unionists armed, Confeds disarmed, but not prisoners."

"Good. Have Barfly and his Bearcats escort the surviving Hellcats to Vesuvius. I want all remaining fighters rearmed and manned by Union pilots to enforce the truce and watch for Confed reinforcements. Vesuvius out." OK, that should take care of the Confeds for a while. Now to resume my interrupted search for Admiral--

I heard the hatch opening behind me! Heart in my mouth, I whirled, my finger already squeezing the trigger of my photon pistol. That bastard Tolwyn was trying to ambush--

BLAM!

It was Lt. Pilotte! At the last instant, I'd managed to divert my aim; the blast scorched the bulkhead half a meter from her pretty face.

"Eeeeek! Oh, it's you, sir!" She slumped against the bulkhead, hand over her heart. "Jesus, sir!" she gasped. "You nearly scared my hair straight!"

I shakily lowered my weapon. "S-sorry, Skye, but you gave me quite a turn, too. What are you doing here?"

Stepping over prostrate bodies, Skye somewhat unsteadily made her way toward the helm. "Intrepid's dead in space, sir, so I was out of a job. Commander Ander brought me over on the first shuttle, to take over--Oooooooo!" Squealing with delight, she grasped Vesuvius' spiffy new helm control. "Look, sir! It's the new BattleCruiser 4040 AD joystick! Confed must have adopted it for their new ships! Oh, this is a real treat!" She caressed it with a loving, almost sexual fervor.

I swallowed hard, my eyes riveted by the sensuous motion of her hand. "Uh, I'm glad you like-- Er, forty-FORTY? There's a sequel already? When did they release the first--"

"They didn't," she replied absently, investigating the numerous buttons and switches on her new toy. "All the hype for the 4000 AD add-ons generated so much interest that they decided to do the sequel before the orig-- Oh, look, sir! A pushbutton link to the Official BattleCruiser 4040 AD G-Spot!"

"Mmm." Watching her, I realized that Tolwyn wasn't as smart as he thought he was. He could have made a lot more money with a lot less effort by marketing vaporware. I found that thought profoundly depressing.

"Uh, carry on, Lieutenant." I headed for the exit, gloomily wondering if stopping Tolwyn today would make any real difference to humanity in the long run.

*

Tolwyn wasn't in the flag quarters, nor was he in any of the other officers' cabins I searched. I gave up and headed for the flight deck. Tolwyn would keep; alive or dead, he couldn't hide forever. In the meantime, I had to check on Intrepid's incoming survivors.

On the flight deck, I found two shuttles unloading wounded, and a third just departing. Peering aft, I could make out the lights of other birds in the landing pattern, many more than Intrepid carried. Apparently the Confeds had agreed to the truce and were taking advantage of the haven offered by the Vesuvius.

In a nearby bay, Zelda and two of her techs were servicing a Bearcat. The pilot was nowhere in sight, but he had to be from the St. Melons; none of the other ships carried Bearcats. Wearily, I plodded over to the bay. My blood lust had worn off, and now the strain of the last few days was catching up to me.

Zelda was seated in an autoloader, efficiently hanging shiny new missiles on the Bearcat's racks. When she saw me, she gave a joyous whoop and vaulted off the vehicle; pouncing with her usual enthusiasm, she nearly knocked me over.

"Oof! Zelda, how many times have I--mmpphh!" My objections were smothered by her hungry lips. Too tired to fight her off, I put up with her kisses until she'd had her fill and let me loose. One of Zelda's techs casually handed me a WipeX; dabbing it on my new wounds, I glared at him, daring him to smile. He didn't.

Zelda was looking at my unclipped holster. "Did you find him?" she asked.

I shook my head. "He's either hiding or lying unconscious somewhere; or blown out into space. But never mind him. You OK?"

She nodded. "Most of Intrepid's damage is on the port side. I was in a starboard service bay, working on a shuttle. We took a lot of casualties." She glanced out at the flight deck, where an incoming shuttle from the TCS Pocahontas was being met by armed Union crewmen. "Looks like we weren't the only ones."

"Yeah. Thank God it's over. Listen, hon, I know you're tired, but we need our fighters turned around as soon as possible. I don't want the Confeds thinking they can break the truce and get away with it."

She grinned at me. "No problem, Blairbear!" she said, sweeping her hand around the bay. "With all this shiny new equipment, it'll be a pleasure!" Giving me a farewell peck on the cheek--and a new nick--she strode back to the autoloader and resumed her tasks.

"Colonel, do you know that, er, person?"

I recognized the voice even before I turned around. Yeah, it was Barfly, coming in from the flight deck with his flight suit over his arm. He was looking in Zelda's direction and frowning.

Grinning, I reached out to clasp his hand. "Yeah, I know her. Don't judge her by her looks, OK?"

"If you say so, sir," he replied, looking skeptically at the new wounds on my lips. He let go of my hand and started struggling into his flight suit. "Mmpphh. Damn, I hate putting this on."

"Then why'd you take it off?" I reached down to help him with his left leg.

"Damn Bearcat. Mmpphh. She's a sweet ship, Colonel, but in all the times I've flown her, not once has the damn relief kit worked right! Can you help me with the...yeah, that's it. So as soon as I landed, I had to get out of my monkey suit and hit the head. Ah, that did it. Thanks, sir."

I took an instant liking to this guy; we had a lot in common. "My pleasure, Captain Thyme. After all, you saved my life."

"Justin, OK? And you saved mine first." He looked at me earnestly. "Remember that bar on Nephritis 2? You gave me cash to get laid? I went to the local cathouse, only when I got there, it turned out my old squadron leader was, er, an employee. We started talking over old times, and pretty soon we were both feeling pretty ashamed of ourselves; finally we just walked out. At the spaceport, she talked us into a job flying escort for a two-bit freight outfit. The pay was lousy, and our Hellcats were deathtraps, but it was honest work."

He shuddered, obviously reliving those terrible weeks. It couldn't have been easy for him, kicking the bottle while under constant threat of pirate attack.

"Anyway," he continued, "our last run was to Starbase Thorn. Your Captain Eisen arrived about the same time and raised quite a ruckus. Not everybody believed his story--my friend didn't--but when we heard the Heart of the Tiger was fighting for him, a bunch of us signed on. We commandeered the St. Melons and four new Bearcats and took off to intercept Tolwyn. Got the shock of our lives when we found you guys already here slugging it out."

I looked at him with new respect. This clean-cut, rangy professional was a sharp contrast to the bleary-eyed, slack-jawed derelict I'd met in the bar two long months before. It was, I realized, the difference between a man with hope and one without.

"Er, ahem. Sounds like you saved your own life, Cap--er, Justin. In any case, I'm glad to have you here. How many of your Bearcats left?"

He snapped to attention. "Two, sir. Ah, three, but the third's in no shape to fly. Your orders?"

"Patrol the jump point. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, goes through. I don't want Tolwyn stealing a shuttle somehow and escaping. If a Confed vessel tries anything funny, shoot without warning. Got it?"

He saluted. "Yessir." He looked inquiringly at Zelda, who gave him a thumbs-up. Donning his flight helmet, he climbed up into the cockpit.

As the whine of thrusters built up behind me, I left in search of a spare shuttle. With my Dragon shot up, I was out of a job as a combat pilot. As a rescue pilot, however, I could still make myself useful.

*

I made two round trips to Intrepid, transferring both wounded and able-bodied survivors to their warm and cozy refuge on Vesuvius. Fatigue was setting in, but when we were down to the final load, I waved the other shuttles off. I was Intrepid's acting Captain, and it was my duty to be on the last rescue flight. With Tolwyn neutralized, I could sleep later.

Along the way, I reduced the cabin pressure to match Intrepid's dwindling atmosphere, swallowing again and again to pop my ears. The carrier was losing air more slowly now, but she was already down to 60% of normal pressure, about the least an unacclimated human could tolerate. Soon the emergency force fields would fail, and the rest of Intrepid's air would puff out into space.

Despite her damage, Intrepid's landing field was still operational; the ship's engineers had channeled most of her remaining power to the flight deck. I set the shuttle down just outside Bay 15, where the last survivors were huddled in a dim pool of light. I lowered the ramp and went back to help with the loading.

Despite the insulation of my flight suit, I shivered as a draft of cold air came through the cockpit hatch. The Eczema jump point was located in the far reaches of the Noxzema System; the sun's feeble light carried precious little warmth at this distance.

Forceps was already aboard, kneeling over a still figure on a grav stretcher while a deckhand secured it for flight. I walked over and looked down at the patient. I could identify her as female, but that was about it; she was bundled in a thermoblanket, and an oxygen mask obscured most of her face. Her forehead bore the characteristic red splotches of extended decompression.

"Hi, Forceps," I said. "I thought the wounded were already aboard Vesuvius."

He glanced up at me for a second, then turned his attention back to his charge. "Couldn't move her," he said curtly. "Had ta stabilize her first." He spat into his cup and peered intently at his medkit readouts. "She'll make it now."

"Who is it?"

Behind me, a new voice spoke up. "It's Jailbait--er, Yanni--sir."

I turned and found Ensign Swenson standing in his space suit, minus helmet. I hadn't seen much of him since that first funeral ceremony on Intrepid, nearly six weeks ago.

"Yokely? Shit, Swenson, I thought everyone in 'A' turret was a goner."

"No, sir. They knew it was dangerous to use D batteries in that faerie weapon, so they rigged a safety delay. Yanni was the last one out; when the turret fired and blew, she was caught on the wrong side of a hatch. Sucked vac for nearly two minutes before I found her an' stuffed her in a rescue bag."

I shuddered, imagining her terror: suffocating, tugging futilely at an immovable hatch in the icy silence...until unconsciousness mercifully put an end to her ordeal... Ugh. I had a morbid fascination with death by decompression.

Swenson tapped my arm to get my attention again. "Sir? Request permission to stay with the dea--er, my shipmates--until they're...evacuated. I have my suit, plenty of air tanks--"

"Denied." After a few hours in the dark, surrounded by the frozen stares of his former pals, he'd probably pop his own suit. "The living need you more, Swenson." I searched the line of crewmen shuffling up the ramp. "No Sosa. Why am I not surprised? Swenson, you're in charge here. Get everyone aboard and button up." I pulled a spare oxytank and flash off the bulkhead rack and started down the ramp.

"Er, aye aye, sir." He sketched a salute and reluctantly turned to his new task.

*

I trudged wearily along Intrepid's dark and frozen passageways, using my flash to pick my way over debris and bodies. The grav generators were gradually winding down as their power supply dwindled, which helped somewhat, but I was still panting heavily in the thin atmosphere. Finally I gave up and put on my flight helmet, stopping momentarily to savor the oxygen-rich canned air.

As I walked, crawled, and climbed, the dancing shadows around me revived childhood fears of ghosts and monsters and other denizens of the dark. I saw shapes moving in my peripheral vision; I heard sounds where there was no one to make them. In such a situation, rational thinking was no match for fear; I had more success imagining the shadows as Zelda's benign "faeries." I hoped they were on their way to my shuttle; neither ET nor human could survive much longer on this hulk.

*

The doors to CIC were stuck half open; I pried them apart a little more to accommodate my flight suit. Once inside, I removed my helmet and headed for the light in the comm alcove.

Sosa was still at her console, chattering into the comm. Despite her bulky coat and a blanket over her legs, she was shivering in the sub-zero air. Nevertheless, she seemed determined to do her duty to the bitter end.

Sosa must have heard me behind her, but she gave no sign. Switching channels, she barked out another message.

"StMelonsTCSLionKingreportsafaintrescuebeaconsixthousandklickstoyourstarboard!"

Rollins was apparently St. Melons' comm officer as well as her captain. His reply followed on the heels of Sosa's transmission.

"RogerIntrepiddispatchingshuttlenow!"

The rest of their exchange was much too fast for me to follow; it seemed Sosa had finally found someone who could keep up with her.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Time to go, Lieutenant," I said softly.

She shook her head. "N-not yet, sir. We still have m-missing pilots, both Union and C-C-Con--"

I lifted her out of her seat--a simple feat in the fading gravity--and set her down in front of me.

"Here," I said, handing her the oxytank. "Put on the mask." Taking her place at the console, I switched to the general channel and sent out a priority call.

"Intrepid closing down. Coordinate rescue ops through TCS St. Melons." Not waiting for acknowledgements, I secured the comm and activated the navhaz beacons. Noting the exact time--Border World time--of shutdown, I made the final log entry and downloaded the log to a data cartridge.

Sosa was standing near the porta-potty, staring into the frosty darkness. She jumped when I touched her arm.

"Wha? Oh. S-sorry, Chris." Her voice was muffled by the mask, and her teeth were chattering, but I could still detect a wistful note. "I was j-just wondering: will we ever b-b-be together in a p-place that's wuh-wuh-warm?"

I chuckled; I, too, had been remembering that frigid computer room on Orestes IV. Putting my arm around her, I replied, "Patience, Vee. The Dissembly won't declare war without Tolwyn's report. All we have to do is present our own data, and then we can start sorting out our personal lives."

She gripped my hand and said, "Promise?"

"Promise." I took a last look around the darkened CIC and sighed. "Come on, hon, let's get to the shuttle."

*

My fourth landing on Vesuvius was a marked contrast to my first, when the ship had been a near-derelict. Now the flight deck was bustling with activity, as shuttles landed, disgorged their refugees, and took off again at minimum intervals. I noted with satisfaction that makeshift field hospitals had been set up in the portside service bays; casualties from seven ships were being tended by medics wearing two different uniforms.

A deckhand in Confed uniform directed me to an empty service bay. I set the shuttle down gently and lowered the ramp, then roused Sosa from the copilot's seat. The strain of the last few days had finally caught up to her; she was out on her feet. Her hand was still cold to the touch, despite her coat and the balmy temperature I'd set in the cockpit.

After handing Sosa over to a female deckhand, I paused at the top of the ramp, raised my eyes, and offered a prayer of thanksgiving.

Thanks, God, for bringing me through. You could have made the way a little easier, of course, and you could have brought a few more of my friends through alive, but overall it wasn't a bad job. Eight out of ten, big guy.

I noticed a delegation waiting for me at the bottom of the ramp. With a little sigh, I started down to meet them. No rest for the weary, it seemed.

Zelda spoke up first. "Flight status, Colonel: two Hellcats, three Banshees, and two Bearcats operational. You'll need your Dragon to get to Earth, so I've got my techs working on it now in bay 51. We have three more birds aboard, but they'll take days to repair."

"Thanks, Chief. Help me out of my flight suit?" I nodded to Commander Ander.

"Vesuvius is fully operational, sir," he said. "Damage to the bow is being repaired. Intrepid and Aladdin have been abandoned; we have skeleton crews on the other ships. None of them will be ready to jump for a couple of days at least."

Stepping out of the flight suit, I shook my head impatiently. "Forget jump status, Ander! Are the food synthesizers working here?"

He licked his lips and grinned. "Oh, yessir! That was the first thing I checked!"

"They're working, all right!" snapped Forceps. "I've had to pump out three stomachs already! [spit] How that idiot Primate managed to scarf down thirty bananas... [spit] Anyway, I had Ander put guards in the galley to keep the Intrepid people from eatin' too much. Now, as for the wounded... Kid? Kid!"

"Wha?" I awakened from a daydream filled with barbecue, pizza, lobster... "Oh. Er, yeah, the wounded?"

Forceps spat in disgust. "As I was sayin', I don't think we'll lose any more, now that we got 'em proper medical care--not even the laughers. [spit] If no one EATS themselves ta death, that is! Heh heh!" He casually raised a beer to his lips and sucked it dry. Seeing my frown, he guiltily hid the empty behind his back. "Er, don't worry, kid, this is just my--hic!--my fourth!"

Lt. Cmdr. Queue discreetly cleared his throat. "Er, ahem. Good news, sir. We've been showing Tolwyn's speech to the Confeds; most of them are coming over to our side."

"Yes? So?" I was impatient to visit the galley. Mmm, pumpkin pie, corn smothered in synthobutter...

"Er, the bad news is...Tolwyn's not aboard Vesuvius." He cringed.

"That's nice, Ike." Fried rice, prawns, taco-- "WHAT?" I grabbed the front of his uniform with both hands and dragged his face to within a centimeter of mine. "WHERE IS HE?"

Ike struggled in my grasp. "We searched the ship!" he gasped. "Nothing! He's not on a destroyer, either. I interrogated the crew, the ones who could talk! They thought he was just sticking to his cabin, but when I questioned them closely, no one had seen him since the Edema System. Shall I lean on 'em a little, maybe get some more--"

"Don't bother." Disgusted, I released him. "There's only one man who knows the truth; I'll deal with him myself."

Angrily striding toward the nearest hospital bay, I raised my eyes again.

Way to go, God! When you screw up, you REALLY screw up! Zero out of ten, pal! Zero out of ten!

*

The Vesuvius casualties were easy to spot; every few minutes they would burst into hysterical laughter. I found my quarry in the third bay I checked, an aid station with so many T-pak victims that it sounded like a den of hyenas.

I knelt next to the mat occupied by Lt. Vinson Garr, Chief Communications Officer, TCS Vesuvius. He glared up at me, eyes smoldering with hate.

"Where's Tolwyn?" I asked, deliberately keeping my tone even.

"Why, Blair," he replied innocently, "isn't he on board? Heeheehee!" His grating giggle could have been a T-pak symptom, but I knew he was laughing at me. Again.

"Where's Tolwyn?" I repeated, casually placing my hand on his stomach. I could feel his hypersensitized muscles tense up under the blanket.

"Yiee!" He tried feebly to dislodge my hand, and failed. "Eeheehee! I don't know! I swear!"

"Where's Tolwyn?" I asked for the third time, wiggling my fingers.

"EEYAHAHAHA! Stop! Heeheehee! I can't stand-- Ohohohoho! OK, I'll talk! I'll talk!" He paused, gasping for air. "The Edema System! [pant, pant] Took a shuttle...met a courier ship! [gasp] Even Captain Blyght didn't know! The Admiral...took another jump route. He'll address the Dissembly...tonight!"

His face twisted with pain and hatred, and he grabbed my sleeve in a death grip. "He recorded that holovid...taunting you...knew you'd fight to the death ...if you thought he was [cough cough] aboard. And you fell for it, you sorry sap! You've lost...Ass of the Tiger!" Vinny's lips were starting to turn blue, but he refused to let go. "Urk! You...you've lost. Ungh! Lost..." His hand fell off my sleeve, and he went limp.

My face burned with shame. Damn, outsmarted by Tolwyn again! Fighting despair, I forced myself to my feet and started out of the bay. Behind me, medics frantically swarmed around Lt. Garr, but I was too deep in thought to pay much attention. Our only hope was to get to Earth before the final vote. But with our last Dragon in the shop, how in God's name was I going to get there in time?

*

I found Zelda outside one of the hospital bays; she and Maniac were helping a limping pilot off a St. Melons shuttle. It took a moment before I recognized the pilot as Panties; the left side of her face was obscured by a regen dressing. I got there in time to help them set Panties down against a bulkhead.

She looked up at me with her good eye. "Chris! Oh, thank God you're all right! We've lost so many..." She turned to my tireless techie. "Sorry, Zelda, I lost another one of your birds."

Zelda squeezed her hand. "No apologies for coming back alive, Tamara. Right, Chris?"

I knelt next to her, crowding Maniac aside, and took her other hand. "Right. We're alive, and that's all--"

Maniac tapped my shoulder. "Hell-O! I'M alive, too, Ace! No thanks to that damn shuttle pilot! Picked me up last of--"

"Maniac, will you shut--" Uh-oh. I'd just spotted two deckhands carrying a body bag off the shuttle. From the frost on the bag, and the stiff position of the body inside, I could guess it was a pilot retrieved from space. I started to get up to see who it was. Several pilots were still missing...

Panties put a hand on my arm. "Don't, Chris," she said quietly.

I stared down at her. Oh, no. "September?" I guessed, hoping I was wrong.

She nodded. "We found her pod just before Maniac's. Piece of shrapnel went right through it...and her. We found M-O-O-S scrawled on the inside of--"

"'Mouse?'" Maniac scratched his head. "Why would she write--"

"Shut up, Maniac!" I snarled, grief gnawing at my guts. It wasn't fair! Lt. Mourne had beaten her inner demons, only to fall victim to Tolwyn's ambition. Vagabond, Catnip, Dr. Boddie, September... With the Admiral still loose, where would it end?

Then I saw another body bag coming down the ramp, and I felt even sicker.

Panties confirmed my worst fears. "Homes," she said. "Sorry, Chris, I know you two go back to the Lexington."

"Poor Lou," sighed Zelda. "It's OK, Blairbear; I'll break the news to her."

The last man off the shuttle wasn't carrying a body bag. All he had was a scorched yellow rubber duck.

Surprisingly, it was Maniac who spoke up this time. "Sorry, Ace," he said. "He was a good man. That convoy you two took down? Bee-you-tee-ful." He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, at least he's the last."

"He's not, Maniac," I said, nearly choking on my words. Panties and Zelda looked at me sharply.

"Tolwyn's escaped. He's on a courier ship right now, probably already in Proxima. Zelda, how soon will my Dragon be ready?"

"Twelve hours, minimum. The hyperjump unit was hit pretty bad, and without it you're not going anywhere."

Shit. I turned to Maniac and held out my hand, palm up.

He immediately covered his thigh pocket with his hands. "Nooooo!" he screamed. "She's all I have left! If I hadn't had her with me, she would have burned up with the rest! Pleeeeease?"

I reached into my pocket, sorted through the data cartridges, and pulled out Maniac's. "Trade, Maniac? Your Miss July log here for what's in your pocket." I didn't mention that I was going to give it to him anyway, heh heh.

He thought it over for a minute before reluctantly taking a small plastic box out of his pocket. Handing it to me, he snatched the cartridge out of my hand and hurled it to the deck. Cursing a blue streak, he began jumping up and down on it.

I held up the box he'd given me. It was Miss July Inflatable herself!

Zelda looked at me skeptically. "Blairbear, what makes you think there are faeries aboard? For all we know, they're still on Intrepid."

I handed her the box. "I have a feeling they sneaked aboard our shuttles, hon. In any case, it's our only hope." She nodded, gave me a peck on the cheek, and scooted off to bay 51.

"One more mission, Chris?" asked Panties, a not-quite-smile on her face.

"Always one more damn mission, Panties," I replied wearily. "Story of my life." I kissed her and stood up. "Get some rest, hon. I gotta find Ander and get this bucket through the jump point."

*

I had failed.

Sitting in my cell, staring blankly at the opposite wall, I wrestled with my guilt. Tolwyn was too smart, I told myself. He was too strong; he'd prepared too well. We never had a chance.

Comforting thoughts, but I knew they were lies. We'd come within an ace of winning; Tolwyn had escaped in the end because of my mistake. I knew Tolwyn's tricks better than anyone, yet I'd fallen for his Vesuvius ploy like a dumb rookie. I'd fought with my heart, not my head, and out on the frontier the Border Worlds were paying the price.

There was a click from the cell door, as the electronic lock was released from the guard station down the hall. Two guards trained their weapons on me as the jailer swung the bars open.

"It's time, renegade!" he said gruffly.

Slowly, calmly, I did up my tattered Border World uniform and rose from my bunk. I could still play the Heart of the Tiger one last time.

They herded me around the corner of the cell block, down a short corridor, and into a small alcove. Taking in the stains on the wall and floor, I wondered idly which one was Captain Eisen...and Tamara...and--

The jailer held out a black cloth. "Blindfold?" he offered.

I looked at it closely. "Yes, it is." Heh heh. The Heart of the Tiger goes out with a smile, a jaunty laugh, a defiant toss of the--

"Oh, a wise guy, eh?" The jailer dropped the cloth and shoved his hand, now somehow transformed into a furry and savage claw, deep into my belly.

I screamed in pain and fear. No, not again!

The jailer was Tolwyn! He lifted me up, fixed on impossibly long, sharp talons. "Caught you later, Blair!" he said cheerily. "One, two! One, two! Hahahaha!"

"Nooooooo!"

*

"Colonel? Colonel, wake up." Lt. Cmdr. Queue was shaking me urgently.

I sat up slowly, trying to jumpstart my brain. We'd hopped into Eczema and set out for the Proxima jump point, while Zelda's faeries (hopefully) repaired my Dragon. Too tired to eat, I'd collapsed onto a convenient mat. Ike wouldn't wake me unless...

I came full awake. "Shit, Ike! Confeds?"

He nodded. "Fighters inbound now, a dreadnought and several escorts behind them. You have about twenty minutes."

I struggled to my feet, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. "Tell Zel--er, Chief Morgenstern--to meet me at bay 51. I gotta get into a Confed uniform and flight suit." And visit the head, probably for the last time.

*

In retrospect, I should have expected the crowd waiting for me outside the locker room. With the future of humanity riding on this mission, everyone on board had a stake in its success. Like Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea, I strode through a multitude, accepting their good wishes with an occasional nod or a wave of my gloved hand.

Zelda was waiting for me at the bay entrance. At my unspoken question, she just shrugged. "I don't know if it's faeries or humans," she said, "but something has been making an unholy racket in there for the last two hours." She pressed the button to open the bay doors. "I guess your Miss July is a real party girl! Heehee!"

Har har. Like the others, I waited impatiently for the massive doors to slide apart. If the "faeries" hadn't done their work, this would be the shortest mission on record.

The doors reached their limit and stopped with a muffled clunk. There in the bay sat my Dragon...good as new!

Better than new, in fact. As I walked into the bay, I noted new Border World insignia and a snarling tiger emblem under the cockpit. The Black Lance smiley faces on the wings had been replaced by larger versions of the boxing tiger on my flight helmet. The rest of my Dragon wore the same smooth, jet-black finish the faeries had used on Intrepid's "A" turret.

Zelda plugged a diagnostic computer into the fighter and checked her readouts. "All parameters match the specs, Colonel," she said. "EXACTLY. This Dragon is as perfect as it can be."

"No batteries-not-included mods?"

She smiled and shook her head.

I shrugged. "Well, that's it, then. Time to go." I headed for the ladder, which Barr was just moving into place. Next to it stood Lt. Cmdr. Queue and a Confed officer I didn't recognize.

"Colonel," said Queue, indicating his companion, "this is Commander Flusher Quistian, First Officer of the Vesuvius. He's come over to our side."

To forestall his salute, I reached out my hand. "Blair. Chris B--"

"Yikes!" Quistian recoiled from my touch. "S-sorry, Blair. I still have a touch--Heehee!--a touch of the giggles." He shivered, fighting down a T-spasm. "I've put Captain Blyght under arrest. We've set charges to disable Vesuvius' engines as soon as you're clear. It'll be months before she can be used against the Border--"

"No, Quistian. You will do NOTHING to provoke the Confeds; no resistance, no sabotage. We've lost enough people already, Commander."

"Aye aye, sir." He stepped back and saluted smartly.

Maniac sauntered over and sneered, "So, another do-or-die mission, big hero? Well, don't forget, you promised me anything I want, so watch yer chickenshit ass until I can collect!"

I was touched. Maniac had never shown concern for me before. "Eat shit and die, peabrain!" I replied affectionately.

Hulk shoved Maniac aside and stuck out his paw. "Blair promise come back, tell Hulk more about rabbits?"

"That's a deal--unggg!--big guy," I said, grimacing in Hulk's iron grip.

Lt. Tennant hobbled out of the crowd, leaning heavily on Barr, who also carried my parrot on his shoulder.

Louise pulled me down so she could whisper in my ear. "Don't blame yourself for Churlokk, Chris. He said he was the luckiest man in the universe, flying with you." She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "Take care of yourself... Colonel Gravgen."

Barr held out his hand. "Good luck, Bearkiss. If the flying thing doesn't work out, you can always be my assistant. Heh heh."

"Thanks, Fern." I reached out to ruffle my parrot's tummy feathers. "Well, bird, I guess I'll see you when I see you."

"Rawwk! Not if I see you first, sport! Awwk! Heehee!"

Archie and Valentina were next. They clung to each other, barely keeping their emotions under control. "Colonel," said Arch diffidently, "Tina's pregnant, and we were wondering, er..."

"...if you'd stand g-godfather to our baby, sir." Tina tightened her grip on Archie's hand. "Promise, sir?" she asked, blinking back tears. "Whatever happens?"

I had to swallow hard before I could reply. "I-I guess I'd like that more than anything, Tina. You have my word." Not that that would make any difference, of course. Tolwyn was almost certain to beat me to Earth.

Tina was weeping openly now, and it looked like Archie would join her any second. I smiled and took both their hands. "Don't cry for me, Arch and Tina. I'll keep my promise."

"Don't forget your promise to us, flyboy."

I knew that voice. Still smiling, I turned and found Panties standing unsteadily behind me, supported by Sosa, who was still wearing her coat.

"Yeah," said Sosa, trying to look cheerful. "And don't try to wiggle out of it by d-dying or anything. It won't w-w-w..." She stopped, choking back sobs.

I smothered them in a group hug. "Don't worry, you two. I have too much to live for." I clung to them for a moment more, then planted kisses on their foreheads and let go.

Feeling a bit like Dorothy leaving Oz, and on the verge of bawling myself, I turned to Zelda for my last good-bye. "Here, hon," I said, taking comfort in the old ritual of handing her my flight helmet. She kissed the tiger emblem and gave it back, along with a thermos bottle.

"Chicken soup, Blairbear. My own recipe. Your kit is in the cockpit." Her brave smile began to waver. "D-do you really have to go? M-maybe Captain Eisen..."

I caressed her freckled cheek. "If he'd made it, we would have heard by now, hon. Don't worry, I'll be--"

She put her finger over my lips. "You can't lie to me, Blairbear. I know you don't expect to come back." She took my head in both hands. "But I know better. I've seen you at work these last few weeks, and you ARE the Heart of the Tiger." Eyes probing into my very soul, she whispered, "I believe in you, Chris Blair."

*

Vesuvius shut down her sensors long enough for me to cloak, launch, and clear the area. Fortunately, none of the approaching Confeds mounted P-PNG-DOMM sensor arrays; I passed within fifteen thousand klicks of the dreadnought without being detected.

I listened to the chatter between Vesuvius and the Confed task force until I was out of comm range. To my relief, the Confeds seemed content to take the supercarrier without bloodshed. That might change when they discovered my escape, of course...

I took my kit out of the cockpit stowage and focused on my mementos from the Annabel Lee. Yeah, I had only one job now: beating Tolwyn to Earth. I tried to push my friends out of my mind.

The Dragon didn't really have infinite afterburner, but it could burn for long periods without recharging. I programmed a burn sequence into the AI to give an average velocity near a thousand kps, while reserving a few extra minutes of burner at all times for emergencies. That gave me an ETA at Earth of about... shit, NINE hours, plus two hyperjumps.

Damn. The last thing I needed now was more time to fret.

*

On and on I flew. Whoever or whatever had repaired my Dragon, they had done a superb job. Hour after hour, the power curve held steady and the engine readouts remained optimal. The faint, cheerful hum of the gyros and muffled roar of the burners were as reassuring as Zelda's voice in the AI. I began to believe that, against all the odds, my mission could actually succeed.

The hyperjump to Proxima was quick and smooth. I slipped out of cloak, through the jump point, and back into cloak before any of the Confed picket fighters could intervene. To celebrate, I got out Zelda's thermos of chicken soup and opened it up.

Oh, God, the aroma was intoxicating! I poured myself a generous helping and raised it to my lips. After weeks of straining to extract some flavor from Intrepid's swill, my taste buds suddenly exploded into sensory overload. The rush cascaded from my tongue into every part of my body, bringing with it a profound sense of contentment and well-being.

Before I knew it, I'd gulped down more than half of Zelda's ambrosia. It took all the willpower I could muster to close my thermos and stash it out of sight. Forceps was right; after prolonged culinary deprivation, real synthetics could be downright dangerous.

Papillon 1, the base guarding the Sol jump point, had been alerted by the pickets I'd eluded on the inbound jump. Nevertheless, I made it through her fighter patrols OK, minus a bit of my starboard armor. On the Sol side, I set my initial heading for Confed HQ before cloaking and resuming my race to Earth. It was a feeble ploy, but I needed every advantage I could get.

*

I was an hour from Earth, and starting to think about the rest of Zelda's soup ("Eeeeaat me, Blair"), when I got a twitch on my passives. Instantly I hit active sensors. Vinny had mentioned something about Theether going ahead to stage another "Border World" attack--

There! A Dragon uncloaking sixty thousand klicks ahead of me! My comm screen lit up with Theether's sneering visage.

"Time to end your meddling, Blair. You've been a worthy opponent, but in the end, you're merely the final twitch of a dying breed. Fight hard, old man. I hunger for a true challenge."

I uncloaked, armed a leech, and squeezed the fusion gun trigger. "Happy to oblige, mutant!" OK, Blair, you've seen this guy in action before; dance with him and--

Two more Dragons were uncloaking to my port and starboard! Damn, I'd been decoyed again! How could I have been so stupid as to assume he was alone?

Luckily, the Heart of the Tiger's reflexes immediately kicked in. I launched my leech to keep Theether busy, then turned hard into my port target and loosed a fusion blast just as he finished uncloaking. Whoom! Blam! Switch to IRs, lock, launch! Whoosh! He's hurt, turning, dropping decoys...Kaboom! One down!

Bam! Bam! The other one's lashing my rear armor! Whoopwhoopwhoop! Decoy! Decoy! Turn and--Whammo! One hit aft, minor damage. Autoslide, Blair! About face! Now my fresh fore shield is taking his fire! He looses a fusion blast, but his aim is off. Now, while he's recharging his guns, a double fusion charge! Whoom! Blam! He turns away, loosing two IRs.

Kill autoslide! The sudden change in direction fakes out the missiles. Stick to his ass, Blair! He's damaged, slowing...screechscreechscreech! Pieces flying off his fighter! Get him now, Blair, before Theether slips his missile! Screech! Screech! Kaboom! Woohoo! Now for that bastard--

WhoopwhoopwhoopSPLAT!

My power readings dropped to zero. Reflexively, I yanked the stick and goosed the throttle: no response. I activated autorepair, but I knew it was useless. Theether's leech had turned me into a sitting duck. The Heart of the Tiger had failed after all!

"Hahaha! Oh, you poor fool, Blair!" In his triumph, the cold bastard came as close as I had ever seen to showing genuine emotion. "You're beaten, Heart of the Chump! Beaten by the ultimate warrior!"

I reached for the ejection control, then thought better of it. No, I didn't want to be Tolwyn's prisoner. Better to die clean with my fighter. Soon I'd be with my Angel again. Now, at the moment of death, I could see her face so clearly...

"Not ejecting, primitive? Very well, die under my tach-- What the-- NOOO!"

SPLAT!

Huh?

I checked my sensors. Theether's Dragon was drifting powerless some twenty thousand klicks away. But how? My leech should have self-destructed--

A new voice came through the comm, a voice which, despite its haunting, almost ethereal quality, was as familiar to me as my own; a voice that made my heart skip a beat.

"Est-ce que tu veut vivre toujours, mon amour?"

Angel?

"ANGEL!" I screamed. "Angel, where are you?" Nothing on sensors. A quick visual scan... There! Out of the corner of my eye, blinding halo surrounding a shimmering, silvery vessel of unfamiliar design! I blinked, trying to focus, and it was gone.

"Noooo!" I wailed. "Angel? Angel!" Oh, God, I couldn't lose her again!

Theether appeared on the comm. "I don't know how you did it, Blair," he snarled, "but not even the angelth will thave you when I finith autorepairing!"

"Angelth?" I was so shocked that I forgot about Angel for a moment. Why had I not noticed Theether's lisp before? Wait. Come to think of it, he did tend to avoid sibilants in his speech. Jeez, first moronic Black Lancers, and now a speech defect! Hadn't those G.E.D. scientists done anything right?

No time to lose. Despite my miraculous rescue, I was in the fight of my life. I had to probe my opponent's weak spots.

I punched the comm. "Don't make me laugh, THEETHER. I don't need angels to beat a defective lab specimen. THEETHER!"

He practically beat on the comm screen in his frustration. "Not Theether!" he screamed. "THEETHER! Juliuth Thee Theether! The Thecond!"

"Er, what does the 'C' stand for? Caius?"

"Theethil!"

Sheesh. "Well, CECIL, if three of you couldn't beat me, what makes you think you can do it alone?"

I could see him struggling to control his temper. "You know, Blair, I'm glad you didn't die quick. I've waited a long time for thith. I wanted to do you when I did Orlando Thtathion, but Tolwyn wanted you alive. I begged permithion to kill you in Thera, when I led the Lekthington to Intrepid. Tho when I thlit Gant'th throat, I pretended it wath you!"

"You killed Gant?" Shit, I thought I'd done it when I disabled the Lexington. "My, you've been a busy mutant."

"Yeah. I nailed that cat convoy in Pathqual, and I dropped the PAL viruth on that hick colony. I wanted to kill you when I hit the Annabel Lee, but Tolwyn thaid--"

"YOU DID THE ANNABEL LEE?" I couldn't help it. All the rage I'd felt then came flooding back. I fought to keep control.

"Yeah! Whatth it to you?"

I reached into my kit for my keepsakes. "My mail order brides were on that ship, Frankenstein!" I held up the red silk teddy and "Wedding Day Barbie" doll I'd sent my betrothed as a token of our engagement. "Twins, Cecil! Seventeen years old!" I remembered long evenings fruitlessly searching the mail order catalogs, my mounting frustration and despair, and my elation when I finally found the ad for two young refugees from Locanda IV. "Do you know how hard it is to find a farmer's wife, Cecil? Let alone TWO of them? Do you know how many fucking cold showers I took on that damn farm?"

Theether was suddenly pale. He hadn't bargained for this.

I checked my instruments. Autorepair was just about done. "Prepare to die, you dickless lab rat!" I configured for combat and hit the throttle. He hit his at the same time.

Theether was the best pilot I'd ever fought. Unable to get on his tail, I was forced to make one head-on pass after another. Again and again we came at each other, guns blazing, missiles flying, and decoys popping. We were shooting each other to pieces, but neither of us wavered for an instant. This was a duel to the death, with no quarter asked or given on either side.

Finally, I nailed him with a fusion blast that staggered his ship. Whipping around, I got on his six at last and started ripping him apart with my tachyon cannon. Screech! Screech! This is for you, Mindy and Cindy!

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! In desperation, Theether had loosed his last FF. Out of decoys, I was forced to break off and evade. By the time I broke lock, my opponent was stopped about seven thousand klicks away.

He commed me again. "It'th been fun, thubhuman," he taunted. "but he who fightth and runth away..."

Oh, shit, he was going to mine-surf! Desperately, I locked my last IR on his ship. Please, God, don't let him get away...

"Now if you'll ekthcuthe me, Blair, I have a frigate waiting. Good-bye!"

I launched my missile an instant before Theether popped his mine. Shit, too late! Next he'd fire up his afterb--

BLAM! The mine exploded prematurely! Rear shields down, armor shattered, Theether's ship spun out of control. A moment later, my missile arrived and finished the job.

KABOOM! Theether and his Dragon vanished in a massive fireball.

"Wipeout!" I exulted.

Whew! Funny how things worked out. At the Black Lance HQ, while waiting by the space mine bin for a victim my size, I had whiled away the time disabling the mines' safety interlocks. I'd had nothing more than mischief in mind, of course, but by good luck, Theether had armed his ship with one of my presents.

I took deep, soothing breaths and let my emotions subside, remembering Spirit's quiet wisdom: "Grasshopper-san, revenge is dish best served with soy sauce." I didn't have any soy sauce, but I did have Zelda's chicken soup. Downing the last of her luscious concoction, I closed the book on the Annabel Lee. My mail order brides had been avenged. Nothing could make their tragedy right, of course, but at least I had made it a little less wrong.

I routed shields and weapons to autorepair and resumed my journey to Earth.

*

With Earth still half an hour away, my thoughts returned to Angel. Had she really saved me? Or did Theether fall victim to my first leech? There was no record of her on my comm log, no trace of a ship on the sensor playback. Was it all a dream? A fatigue-induced hallucination?

But what if it really was her? Had she been granted dispensation to leave Valhalla and rescue her love? I smiled. No, more likely, my wrong-way Angel was still trying to find the afterlife.

What about her question? Did I want to live forever? Sure, didn't everyone? But that was too easy. Like most women, my Angel never came right out and said what was on her mind. Her words usually had a deeper, hidden meaning, and if I knew what was good for me, I wouldn't rest until I'd found it. So what was her unspoken message this time?

Hmmm. Did I want to "live" forever with her in the afterlife? In Valhalla, or wherever? Well, yes, but I wanted to live a full life on this plane first. Actually, what I really wanted was to snatch my Angel from Death and take her back to my farm and the happy ending that we were meant to--

Ohmygod! Now that I thought about it, I realized that my Angel, had she lived, would never have followed me into pastoral bliss. She was a creature of the stars, a passionate crusader who lived to fight the good fight. I was, deep down, a reluctant warrior at best, a creature of the earth from which I had sprung. Our love, forged in the white-hot crucible of war, would have melted in the mild sunshine of peace. Angel was the love of my life, but she wasn't my soulmate.

Yet I had thought of her as such. So much so, that I had sought her in all the women I'd loved since. In Robin, I saw Angel's passion for life; in Rachel, her passion for love. I admired Tamara's courage and determination as I had admired Angel's. From Velina, I drew the empathy and emotion I'd lost in war, and found in Angel. And Zelda, dear Zelda, had given the same fierce devotion Angel had lavished on me. I could give and receive a measure of happiness with any of them, but I was soulmate to none.

And Angel must have known that. She had loved me enough to return from the grave, ease me away from her and her surrogates, and set me on another path. First she had saved my life, and now she was trying to save my LIFE!

Unfortunately for Angel's good intentions, even if I succeeded today, I probably wouldn't survive my next tour in the service of humanity. As the Confederation's greatest hero, there was no way I'd be left in peace and--

Of course! That was what she'd been asking! Did I want my LEGEND to live forever? If I insisted on playing the hero, the Heart of the Tiger would indeed live forever, but Christopher Blair wouldn't live to see his grandkids.

In fact it was worse than that. A champion of freedom, I'd had precious little in my own life. Raised in the shadow of war, I'd had no say in my destiny. The man I might have been was submerged and lost in the warrior I'd had to become. And the warrior had been tossed and buffeted by the fortunes of war, used up and discarded by his own side, then dragged back into the fray on a whim, a mere pawn in a cosmic chess game. Tolwyn was neither the first nor the last to use me for his own ends.

No! Tolwyn WAS the last! My guardian Angel had shown me the way. From now on, I would be the chessplayer, and to Hell with my reputation!

I raised my fist and shook it at the uncaring stars. "As God is my witness!" I vowed. "As God is my witness, I'LL NEVER BE A PAWN AGAIN!"

*

Nearing Earth at last, I anxiously scanned my passive sensors and weighed my re-entry options. If I hit atmosphere at any appreciable speed, turbulence would give away my position, cloak or no cloak. With capships and fighters swarming around the planet, that would be suicidal. No, urgent though my mission was, I had to get to the Dissembly in one piece. Gritting my teeth, I reduced the throttle to nearly zero and gingerly slipped into Earth's outer atmosphere.

By the time I arrived over the Dissembly, I was down to a pitiful three hundred kph and nearly frantic. Dodging airborne patrols, I anxiously orbited the grounds, searching for a parking space. Outside the barricades, spectators and cops alike looked up curiously at the sound of my thrusters. If I could land inside the barriers, there would just be the guards at the doors...hah! A space! Thank you, God! I reduced thrust and set down light as a feather in the middle of...oh, shit, a handicap zone! Dammit, God, you just won't quit, will you?

I buried my face in my hands. It figured. When I emigrated to Nephritis 2, I'd left behind a shitload of unpaid parking tickets. Now, if Tolwyn didn't get me, the traffic cops would.

With gloomy visions of prison life filling my mind, I uncloaked and opened the canopy. That seemed to trigger the glove box, which suddenly popped open and disgorged an official handicap placard! Surprised, I took it and read the note on the back:

JUST IN CASE, BLAIRBEAR -- Z

Damn, she really DID think of everything!

I put the placard on the dash, along with another sign I'd found:

NO VID IN VEHICLE

Then I slid down to the pavement and wriggled out of my flight suit. Now if I could bluff my way past the guards at the--

"What the hell are YOU doing here?"

I whirled, reaching for my photon pistol. Damn, the cops were on to-- Wait, it was Paladin's man, Igor!

Ignoring my drawn weapon, Igor grabbed my lapel and and fastened an official pass to it. "Dammit, Blair, where's Captain Eisen? Starbase Thorn said he'd be here two days ago!"

Confused, I lowered my weapon. "He didn't make it?" Shit, Covert Ops must have--

Igor unbuckled my gunbelt and stuffed the weapon under his jacket. "You can't go in there with this! Damned amateurs!" He stepped back, looked me over, and made a face. "You'll have to do. Well, come on, man! Tolwyn's already giving his report!"

I followed Igor up the steps and inside the building, trying not to think about what Covert Ops was doing to Captain Eisen. The guards at the security station evidently knew Paladin's man well; they barely glanced at my pass. With my gun under his jacket, Igor couldn't get through the weapon detectors, so I was on my own from there.

There was a flock of reporters outside the Dissembly Hall, but they were too mesmerized by Tolwyn's image on the holovids to pay any attention to me. I paused for a moment at the back of the crowd to watch his performance. Yeah, the old man was in top form today. If I wanted to be heard, I'd have to make a dramatic entrance. So be it. It would be a pleasure upstaging the vain bastard. Heh heh.

The two guards outside the Hall's VIP entrance were relaxed and friendly. I was still nervous; my counterfeit pass bore Captain Eisen's likeness.

"OK, Captain...Nemo," said one, casually scanning my pass. "You can-- Say, you look a lot paler than your pic, sir."

"Uh, yeah. I've been, uh, sick. Heh heh."

"If you're a naval captain," said the other, "how come you're wearing a Space Force colonel's uniform?"

Think, Blair! "Er, my other uniform's in the wash? I borrowed this one?"

The first guard smiled sympathetically. "Don't ya just hate that? OK, you can go in, Captain Nemo, but keep it quiet, OK?"

"Yeah," said the second. "You don't want to interrupt the big--" He looked closer at me. "Wait a second! You're the guy from--"

Now, Blair! Shoving the guards aside, I flung open the double doors and burst into the Dissembly Hall. "STOP THE VOTE!" I yelled.

A sudden silence enveloped the Hall, broken only by the reverberating echoes of my shout. Next to me, an astonished peanut vendor gaped at me. To my right, tier upon tier of Senators and spectators stared down. On my left, the Dissembly Officers up on the dais turned as one, seeking the source of the interruption. At the podium, Tolwyn stood frozen, looking as if he'd just seen a ghost. In front of the dais, the holovid crews swiveled their cams to cover this unexpected development. Standing with the TCN crew was Barbara Dahl herself, lovely as ever in her blue TCN blazer and tight white microskirt.

"The Heart of the Tiger!" she exclaimed.

I had to hand it to Tolwyn: he was quick on his feet. Recovering from his shock, he leveled his finger at me and commanded, "Seize that man!"

The two guards grabbed the peanut vendor and hustled him forward.

"No, no, you morons!" screamed Tolwyn. "Not that man! THAT man!"

I pulled out my data cartridge and waved it at the cams. "Admiral Tolwyn is a traitor! He engineered this war!" I struggled with the guards, trying to get to the news crews. "I have proof!"

Tolwyn sneered at me from the podium. "We're not interested in your lies, reneg--"

"Let's see his proof!" Paladin's booming voice silenced the growing tumult in the Hall. "Release him!" He ignored the death-dealing glare Tolwyn was directing at him.

I shook off the guards and walked up to Barbara Dahl. "Hi, Barbara. Good to see you again."

Her smile was as dazzling as Disch's. "I'm glad we finally meet in person, Colonel. You have something for me?"

I handed her the cartridge. "Can you put this on the main display?"

"You bet, Chr--er, Colonel!" She and her crew immediately huddled around their holovid equipment.

I climbed up to the podium, gleefully elbowed Tolwyn aside--say your prayers, you rat fink--and addressed the Dissembly.

"For years now, Admiral Tolwyn has been diverting Confederation funds to build a secret army of artificially bred supermen. They have staged a series of provocations to goad the Confederation and its Border Worlds into civil war. Their goal: use the story of that war to amass enough wealth and power to take over the Confederation themselves!"

Barbara signalled that the rec was ready to go. I nodded my assent. Tolwyn, I noticed, was now darting glances like a cornered rat seeking escape.

"But don't take my word for it," I continued confidently. "Hear it from the Admiral himself." Everyone in the Hall, including Tolwyn, directed their attention toward the huge display up behind the dais.

Everyone but me. I wanted to see Tolwyn's face when his elaborate conspiracy came crashing down around him. Stepping back from the podium to get a better view, I fixed my eyes on the Admiral.

A collective gasp went up from the audience as the playback began. I smiled, waiting for Tolwyn to dissolve into despair.

Except that Tolwyn wasn't despairing. He was smiling! No, he was laughing! They were ALL laughing! With a sudden feeling of dread, I looked up at the holodisplay. What the hell was going--

It was Maniac and Miss July Inflatable.

The room began to spin around me. God in Heaven, how could I have been so careless? I'd given Maniac my copy of the evidence against Tolwyn, and he'd STOMPED on it! I'd come so close, but I'd failed! My fault...

I sank into a whirling black morass of despair. All the people who had died for nothing...all the people who would soon die because of me...I'd let them all down. Vagabond. Tamara. Captain Eisen. Angel. Zelda...

Zelda! She still believed in me! I couldn't let her down! But how could the Heart of the Tiger get out of THIS mess?

Tolwyn, his arms crossed, was smiling triumphantly. "Well, so much for your proof," he said. "Guards, take this poor lunatic to the nearest asylum."

'Poor lunatic?' Hey, that was it!

I lunged for the podium. "How DARE you laugh at that poor wretch!" I yelled at the chortling audience.

Taken by surprise, the Senators quit laughing and stared at me.

I pointed up at the display, where Maniac was still going strong. "That pathetic remnant of a human being is a VICTIM! A victim of Tolwyn's...sitcom warfare!"

Horrified gasps from the audience. Cries of shock and outrage.

Tolwyn was unfazed. "Come, come, Colonel," he sneered. "This is pure fantasy on your--"

"Oh yeah?" I challenged. "How do YOU explain such inhuman depravity?"

Suddenly at a loss, he fumbled for words. "Er, but it's Major Marsh-- I mean, he's always been-- Uh..." I had him. It was humanly impossible to explain Maniac to someone who didn't already know him.

Sneaking a glance at the audience, I could tell I'd made an impression. I had to follow up quickly. But without hard evidence, my only chance was to trip Tolwyn up somehow. Unfortunately, my rhetorical skills were no match for his. I had to catch him off guard.

Leveling my finger at him, I shouted, "Geoffrey Tolwyn, you have committed treason, murder, embezzlement, and crimes against humanity! What do you say to that, Admiral? Did you do it?"

Indignantly, he responded, "I most certainly did NOT!"

I crossed my fingers and plunged ahead. "Ooohhh yes, you did!"

Aroused and angry, he flung back, "Ooohhh no, I didn't!"

Hah! He took the bait! "Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"You did!"

"I didn't!"

"Did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"Didn't!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"You didn't!"

"I did!"

"You did?"

"You're Goddamn right I did!" In his righteous anger he was all but screaming. "I rescued the master race from the scrap heap! I planned the secret campaign to provoke war! It was MY scheme to take over the Confederation! And when I overthrow that tramp, Hinton, humanity will see REAL entertainment for a change! Mortal conflict! Glorious destruction! War upon war! The price of entertainment is eternal--"

Suddenly realizing what he was saying, Tolwyn stopped and looked around him. Everywhere, he found only horrified and hostile faces.

Grimacing, he smacked his hand to his forehead. "Doh!"

Paladin wasted no time. "Guards, seize that man! Yes, yes, THAT man!"

Grinning, the guards each grabbed one of Tolwyn's arms. "So we're morons, are we, Admiral?" gloated one. "I can't wait to interrogate this guy, Chauncey."

"Neither can I, Edgar," replied his companion.

Paladin waved for the guards to haul Tolwyn off to one side, then took his place at the podium. "We've heard enough! The Dissembly will now vote."

Cries of "Vote! Vote!" greeted his proposal.

I wandered off to the side of the dais and wearily sat down on the steps. Too exhausted to enjoy my triumph, I slumped against the wall and waited for the last act to play itself out. I had survived, and for today that was enough. Tomorrow I could begin clawing my way up the ladder to power.

I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, the Dissembly session was over and Paladin was helping me to my feet. Reporters thronged around the dais, but so far the guards were managing to keep them back. Barbara Dahl saw me and waved excitedly from the crowd. I yawned and waved back.

"Congratulations, laddie," said Paladin, pointing up at the display. I was still groggy; it took me a moment to realize that the vote was unanimous for peace.

Paladin chuckled. "Not even the conspirators among us dared vote for war after your little performance. Well done, laddie! Well done indeed!"

I shook my head. "I nearly blew it, Paladin. Tolwyn almost won."

"No, he didn't," my old friend replied quietly. He patted a gun-shaped bulge under his vest, where his cape helped conceal it.

I stared at his hidden weapon. "You would have died for nothing, Paladin. Tolwyn's death wouldn't have stopped the war."

He smiled. "No, but it would have made ME feel a lot better!"

Speak of the devil. Tolwyn, accompanied by his two guards, approached us. Despite the shackles on his wrists, he was composed, almost cheerful.

"Well, Colonel," he said matter-of-factly, "once again I've underestimated you. I daresay it's the last time." He paused a moment. "Tell Rillary it was only business, not personal. I always liked her."

He started to go, then stopped and looked me in the eyes. The arrogance was gone now, and all that remained was a pitiful old man. "Christopher," he pleaded, "can you get me off the hook? For old times' sake?"

I was torn. This man had perpetrated unspeakable atrocities on his fellow humans. He'd killed thousands, including my mail order brides. But at several crucial points in the Kilrathi War, his skills and tenacity had saved those same people, and more, from annihilation. Didn't that service outweigh his crimes?

I didn't realize I'd made my decision until I heard myself say, "OK, Admiral. I'll see what I can do."

Paladin was appalled. "Are you mad, laddie?" he thundered.

"On two conditions," I continued. "One: you finger every member of your conspiracy; names, dates, places. You spill your fucking guts! Today!"

"Colonel, I won't betray--"

"Don't make us hunt them down, Admiral. If we can take them now, unprepared, they may live."

He nodded reluctantly. "Very well. And your second condition?"

Warily eyeing Paladin, I leaned close to whisper in Tolwyn's ear. "Theether is dead. Evvin Lee is dead. Does anyone else know about the PAL bioagent?" He shook his head slightly. "Good. You say NOTHING about PAL to ANYONE. Ever. You tell them planet 36-24-36 was wiped out by a defective bioselect virus."

He stared at me curiously. "Why do you...?"

"A promise I made, Admiral."

"Very well. Agreed."

As the guards yanked him away, I made a gun of my thumb and forefinger and called out cheerily, "Catch you later, Admiral!"

I turned to my friend. "Better get me an appointment with Rillary, Paladin. She's the only one who can help him now." We didn't have much time; Confed military justice was notoriously swift. More than one hapless serviceman had been executed BEFORE being formally accused. As soon as Tolwyn was debriefed, he was a dead man.

"I'll do me best, laddie," said Paladin reluctantly. "But if Eisen were here, I dinna think he'd be so quick to forgive-- Eh? What the devil is that?"

There was an uproar outside the VIP entrance. Suddenly, a man burst into the Hall, dragging three guards with him. "Stop the vote!" he cried. "Stop the vote!"

It was Captain Eisen!

He stood there, gasping for breath, with guards hanging from him. He'd put on weight in the short time he'd been gone; his uniform now bulged at the waist, and the snaps threatened to give way at any second. In one hand, he carried his briefcase; in the other he held a large takeout bag full of food.

"I have proof!" he cried. "Conspiracy! [puff puff] Treason!" He glanced up at the vote tally.

"Huh?"

At Paladin's command, the guards released their not-quite-prisoner. Overjoyed, I bounded down the steps and embraced him.

"Captain Eisen! Thank God you're alive!"

The look of surprise on his face was comical. "Blair! [puff puff] How did you get here?"

"Dragon express. Captain, where the hell have you been?"

"Well, there was no time to [gasp] eat at Starbase Thorn. So I stopped at this [wheeze] little barbecue place down by the [puff] maglev line."

"For TWO DAYS?"

"Hey! It's VERY good barbecue! Try some, Colonel."

I took a takeout box from his bag, opened it, and gingerly bit into a sauce- smeared rib. Ohhh, wow! Pure pleasure enveloped me. It was Zelda's chicken soup all over again, only better; better than money, better than drugs, better than sex. I nearly fainted with ecstasy.

"Damn, that's good barbecue!" I polished off the rib in ten seconds flat and tossed the bare bone over my shoulder. I grabbed two more and attacked them with gusto. Tolwyn could wait. Confed justice wasn't THAT swift.

"Say, Captain," I remarked, trying to eat and talk at the same time. "I don't suppose you got any fried green--"

"Right here," he said, beaming. He pulled another box out of his bag.

Damn, Captain Eisen was the best commanding officer in Confed!

End of Chapter 31

Previews from the final chapter of Wing Commander 4.123106:

"It's me, Admiral! How's it hang-- Oops!"

"Don't give in to the dark side, Chris!"

"Christopher Blair, you've just defeated the Black Lance, reunited the Confederation, and earned humanity's highest decoration. What are you going to do next?"

Chapter 32

"Could you hurry it up, Corporal?" I asked impatiently, checking my watch for the tenth time. Damn, I shouldn't have spent so long at that barbecue place this morning! And I definitely shouldn't have gone back for takeout.

The young Marine guard looked up from his console. "Sorry, sir, but with the execution and all, security is extra-tight today, even for you. Just hang on another minute, sir." He went back to verifying my credentials.

I looked at my watch again. Damn. Tolwyn was due to be executed right now! No great loss, of course, but he had kept his part of the bargain. Using his information, the cops and Paladin's agents were picking up conspirators all over the Sol System. Paladin had done his part by getting me an evening appointment with President Hinton, and I had used all my powers of persuasion on her.

I grimaced. That was where it all started to go wrong. Rillary had needed a lot more "persuading" than I had anticipated. In fact, it had taken all night to wangle a pardon out of her. Damn. After three games of "Sorority Pledge Night," I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. Of course, after that last game of "Secret Service Interrogation," neither would Rillary, heh heh.

The Corporal interrupted my musings. "Here you go, sir," he said, smiling and handing back my ID. "Down the hall, hang a left." He looked closer at me, clearly concerned. "Better take care of that black eye afterward, sir."

Black eye? I rubbed my eye, then examined my fingers. Oops. Black eye, my ass! That was eye shadow!

"ThanksCorporalCatchyoulater!" I raced down the corridor, takeout bag bouncing annoyingly against my leg with every stride. I shouldn't have gone back...I shouldn't have gone back...but it was such GOOD barbecue!

Wait! At the guard station up ahead: the firing squad! Hallelujah!

"Hang on!" I shouted, waving my document at them. "I have a Presidential Pardon!" I skidded to a stop in front of the Marines. "President Hinton has [puff] pardoned the prisoner! Stop the [gasp] execution!"

Impassively, the sergeant in charge of the firing squad took the paper and scrutinized it while I tried to catch my breath. Then he handed it back to me.

"It seems to be in order, Colonel," he said evenly. "Unfortunately, you're too late. We just shot him."

"WHAT? Sergeant, do you know what I went through for that--"

He broke into a grin. "Just kidding, sir! Hahaha! Man, you space jocks sure are gullible!" He motioned to his chortling squad. "OK, men, back to the barracks! Hang loose, Colonel."

I glared at them as they marched off. I'd like to hang that sergeant by his--

"Hang it all, sir!" exclaimed the guard at the console. "I was looking forward to seeing that bastard shot!"

"Hmm? Oh. Er, I don't blame you, Corporal. But don't forget, he's lost it all. He's ruined, humiliated, and universally despised. I'm not sure I've done him a favor..." I shook myself out of my gloomy mood. Where there was life, there was hope. "Anyway, I can't hang around here all day. How's he doing?"

"Not too happy, of course, but he's hanging in there. I checked him myself, not ten minutes ago."

"Yourself? Don't you have cell cams?"

He shook his head. "Cutbacks. Probably embezzled the money himself, heh heh." The Corporal touched his keyboard and the armored door behind him swung open. "Last cell on the right, Colonel."

I gathered up my takeout bag and headed down the corridor at a more leisurely pace. Whew! Thank God I was in time!

As I neared the last cell, I heard the electronic lock click open.

"It's me, Admiral!" I called. "How's it hang-- Oops!"

Inside the cell, Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn was standing on his bunk, a sheet tied around his neck. The other end was secured to the cell's unused holocam mount.

"Don't try to stop me, Blair!" he growled. "I'd rather kill myself than give them the satisfaction of shooting me!" With that, he closed his eyes and leaped off the bunk...

And landed on his feet.

After a moment he opened his eyes. Looking up in frustration at the slack sheet, he said simply, "Oh, damn."

"Admiral, I don't think--"

"Quiet, Blair! Will you at least allow me a dignified death?" He closed his eyes again, relaxed his leg muscles and slumped...

To his knees. The sheet still hung limply.

"Damn, damn!" He climbed back up on the bunk, leaned precariously to reach the cam mount, and retied the sheet.

Sheesh. "Admiral!" I took out the pardon and waved it at him. "Hell-O! You've been pardoned, dammit!"

"What?" Startled, he flailed his arms for balance. "B-Blair! Help m--urk!"

I lunged for his legs and strained to support him while he struggled out of his improvised noose. Free at last, he slumped onto the bunk, coughing and rubbing his sore neck. When he had recovered somewhat, he took my document. He read it twice before asking hoarsely, "It's true? I'm a free man?"

I nodded. "Stripped of rank, dishonorably discharged, exiled for life. All you get is a long-range shuttle and supplies. It may still be a death sent--"

"Lost colonies," he breathed, his eyes gazing into the distance. "Cut off during the War...we know they're out there." He squared his shoulders and smiled at me. "Thank you, my boy. Even at my age perhaps it is possible to start over again."

Neither of us said anything more for a time; we were lost in our own thoughts. For nearly two decades, our destinies had been inextricably linked; now we'd come to the end of it. I couldn't imagine life without Geoffrey Tolwyn hovering over me like a vulture. Not that I would miss him, exactly, but...

"Er, ahem," he said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I guess it's back to your farm for you, eh, Blair?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm tired of being pushed around, Admiral. It's about time I did some pushing of my own."

He gave me a knowing smile. "Ah. You see? I told you we're alike, Colonel." Tolwyn closed his eyes, reminiscing. "Wait until you attain real power! It's exhilarating...intoxicating...there's nothing like it." He opened his eyes. "But with power comes responsibility...the obligation to mold the world to your own vision."

"I couldn't agree more, Adm--er, Geoff." Ostentatiously, I looked at my watch. "And it's past time I started." I handed him the bag of barbecue. "The damn bureaucracy will take a few hours to process your release, so I brought you something to tide you over. Catch you later!"

*

I leaned wearily against the bar of the Sheraton luxury suite, sipping my Bugs Bunny and nibbling absently on a juicy rib. It had been a long day...a long two months...a long fucking lifetime.

Over in the plush armchair, Paladin was chuckling. "Admiral of the Fleet! You've come far, laddie! How the devil did you wangle the appointment from the Dragon Lady?"

I ambled over to the chair opposite my friend and leaned on it. I didn't try to sit down--still too sore. "Hey! I'm the Wing Commander, remember? Heh heh. But what about you, you old dog? I hear you've resigned from your seat in the Dissembly. Are you giving up politics?"

He took a swig of his drink--scotch, of course--and shook his head. "Just the opposite, laddie. I had to step down, of course, and tell the truth about rigging my election. But when I run for my old seat again this fall, I run clean. I'll let the voters decide if the end justified my means. And I'll wager a case of Scotland's finest that I win! Hohoho!"

"No bet, pal!"

Paladin drained his glass and heaved himself out of the chair. "But win or lose, I'll make it my life's work to keep people like Tolwyn out of power." Only half-jokingly, he added, "And that includes you, ADMIRAL."

Heh heh. If he only knew how close he was to the truth, he'd gun me down right here and now.

"Vigilance 'R' us, eh? Don't worry, I'll keep my nose clean, Paladin."

"See that you do. Good night, laddie. Have a good trip to HQ."

When he had gone, I wandered over to the huge window and peered out into the darkness. The lights of the city stretched into the distance like a miniature galaxy, complete with star clusters, dark nebulas, and a rainbow of suns. I smiled at my reflection in the transpex. The analogy was apt. If all went as planned, soon the entire galaxy, like the city below, would be at my feet.

I took another rib from the open BBQ pak and gnawed on it. The first day of The Plan had gone well. Put in charge of the campaign to eradicate the Black Lance and their pirate cohorts, I had first call on Confed resources. I'd transferred most of the new people brought in by Tolwyn and replaced them with veterans loyal to the Heart of the Tiger. SRA agents were fanning out across the Confederation, combing the bars and alleys for discarded vets like Justin Thyme. Ostensibly they were bringing back experienced men for the Black Lance campaign, but in reality they were recruiting for me. Dear Jeanette had shown me my path, but I couldn't traverse it alone.

"Incoming call, sir."

"Accepted," I told the suite AI. I'd ordered it to block all calls except from Barbara Dahl or the President. Since Rillary was "negotiating" tonight with the Kilrathi ambassador--where did that woman get the energy?--it must be...

"Hello, Chr--er, Admiral," said Barbara. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Damn, she was pretty. Once again I found myself wondering: 1) Did Barbara Dahl wear underwear? 2) Was that an all-over tan?

"Not at all, Barbara. Business or pleasure?"

"Business, I'm afraid. I called to get your reaction to the news. After all, in some ways you were closer to him than anyone."

"News? Him? Him who?"

Her brisk newshound expression was replaced by one of deep sympathy. "You haven't heard? I'm sorry, sir, Geoffrey Tolwyn is dead. They found him in his cell this morning."

"What?" Oh, shit. The old man did it after all. So how did I feel about it? Numb? Stunned? Relieved? All of the above? No, the Admiral of the Fleet had to be more profound than that.

"Uh, I guess I'd say Admiral Tolwyn reminded us yet again that a lifetime of good can be undone in a moment of weakness, and that our best defense against tyranny is still eternal vigilance. In the end, he was consumed by his own evil, which finally drove him to suicide."

"Thank you, Admiral. Er, but it wasn't suicide; he choked on a sparerib."

"He choked on...?" Oops. "Uh, scratch that suicide remark, OK?"

"Of course. Good night, sir."

"Catch you later, Barbi--Barbara."

I stared at the blank display long after she had disconnected. Damn, life was such a crapshoot! One minute you had your whole future ahead of you, and the next... I suddenly noticed the rib in my hand. Very very carefully, I put it back in the takeout pak.

*

Another window, another view. This time I stood in my lavish office--formerly occupied by the late Geoffrey Tolwyn--gazing out at the TCS Vesuvius and the breathtaking spectacle of Saturn and its rings. I was well aware of the irony of my position, but too tired to care. I served The Plan now, and it was a demanding master.

"Sir, Major Thyme is here."

With a sigh, I abandoned the beauty of nature, returned to my desk, and touched the comm control. "Send him in, Chastity."

Justin Thyme, now a Major in the new Confederation Special Services, stepped jauntily down the stairs in his stylish black uniform. Too familiar with my lair to be impressed by his luxurious surroundings, he crossed over to my desk and plopped a data cartridge in front of me.

"Recruiting for your Special Services is going better than I expected, Chris. You were right: I wasn't the only lost soul out there."

I inserted the data cartridge into my console and skimmed the reports. Not surprisingly, most of the recuited gutter rats were from colonies overrun by the Kilrathi or ravaged by fighting during the War. There was a large contingent from Locanda IV...

I forced Robin's image out of my mind and tried to concentrate. So many of the men who had fought the Kilrathi War had fallen into depression, addiction, and crime when postwar military cutbacks threw them out on the streets. Having lost too much, or seen too much, they'd abandoned hope; their very souls were up for grabs. I wasn't worried, though; neither God nor Lucifer could match what the Heart of the Tiger was offering.

"Thanks, Justin. You've made a good start." I handed him a data cartridge. "Here's the next batch of candidates: mostly pilots, but also a few engineers and techs...and there's a bioconvergence chemist in there who gets special treatment. Dry him out and bring him directly here. He talks to no one but me, OK?"

He scratched his head. "OK. Uh, you won't tell me why he's so important?"

"A promise I made. I'll tell you more in due time. Now, what about the Blair Youth?"

Uneasily, he replied, "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Chris? With all they've been through, and the shortage of foster homes, these war orphans have emotional problems you wouldn't believe. Nobody wants them now."

I dismissed his objection with a wave of my hand. "All the better. We're going to give those boys just what they need: attention, discipline, faith in their future, and a stern but loving father figure: me--er, I."

He shrugged. "OK. Um, I know you want just the boys, Chris, but some of them have sisters. Should we...?"

I hesitated. Boys were easier to instill with the fanatical loyalty I needed. On the other hand, having lost everyone else, they'd be fiercely attached to their siblings, resenting anyone who tried to separate them--and worshipping anyone who kept them together.

"OK, but just for our best prospects. The girls get the same treatment as their brothers, for now. We'll develop a girls' curriculum later." Not. "Justin, I can't overemphasize the importance of these boys; they're my--er, our--future."

He sighed. "OK, Chris. Anything else?"

"Yes, something Tolwyn mentioned to me. Have one of our friends over at BuCol make discreet inquiries about distant colonies we lost contact with during the War. Send some of our Special Servicemen to check out any leads. If you do find anything, keep it secret until we can negotiate their return to Confed." Actually, I planned to "misplace" the records of any colonies he discovered; if The Plan blew up in my face, I'd need a bolthole.

Though obviously dying of curiosity, Justin refrained from asking any more questions. He just gave me the Special Services salute--clenched fist thumped against his chest--and strode purposefully out of my office.

I sat at my desk a while longer, brooding. I was playing a dangerous game, wagering life itself on the outcome. Not just my own life, either. Though ignorant of my true purpose, my loyal followers were inextricably caught up in my conspiracy. If I went down, I'd take a lot of good men--and boys--with me.

*

The sun was setting again; the vast disk of Saturn was dark except for a thin crescent that quickly vanished as HQ passed behind the planet. Lights appeared in the darkness where Vesuvius was loading four squadrons of Dragons. Soon her first batch of Special Servicemen would arrive, and then I'd begin their training and indoctrination in earnest.

I lingered a moment longer at the window. There were still over a thousand personnel files to examine--each Special Serviceman had to be hand-picked by the Heart of the Tiger himself--but Saturn's rings were so lovely...

"Chris-Chris?"

Speaking of lovely... I turned, smiling, at the sound of the soft, husky voice behind me. Chastity always put me in a good mood.

"About this trans, Chris-Chris," she continued hesitantly. "'Robin, Rachel: Sorry, can't accept your offer. Name your price for the ship. -- Chris.'"

"What about it, hon?"

"Well, you owe them MORE, Chris-Chris! I talked with Rachel Coriolis once-- you know, to prepare for my role in 'Return of the Tiger?' Um, she didn't come RIGHT out and say it, but I could tell there was something between you two! I'm VERY sensitive about such--"

I put my finger to her lips. "You can cut the act, Chastity."

A newborn babe couldn't have looked more innocent. "Act? Why, Chris-Chris, what could you POSSIBLY mean?"

"Since Paladin wasn't arrested for consorting with traitors--me--you obviously lied to Tolwyn when you got back from Peleus. What did you tell him?"

In the blink of an eye, Chastity was transformed. Her wide, innocent eyes narrowed, the pouty smile all but disappeared, and her perkiness dissolved into calm self-assurance. When she spoke, her voice was sharper and less husky.

"I told the Admiral that we'd been delayed by a slight misalignment in the shuttle's hyperjump unit. We arrived in Peleus after the 'mysterious' jamming had ended. It was too late to learn anything, so we returned to Sol."

I nodded thoughtfully. If she hadn't lied--convincingly--Paladin wouldn't have been in the Dissembly to back me up, and Tolwyn would have won.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I didn't trust the Admiral; he kept too many secrets from me. After I saw you and your motley crew in Peleus, and you still let us go, I knew you were innocent. Besides, I knew Tolwyn wouldn't hurt me if he found out. But I didn't know what he was really up to, Chris. You have to believe me."

"I do. I'm just surprised Paladin took the chance of letting you report to--"

She looked at me as if my IQ had just dropped a hundred points.

"Oh. Well anyway, thanks, Chastity; you helped save--"

The old Chastity was suddenly back. Pinching my cheek affectionately, she gushed, "Thank YOU, Chris-Chris, for getting me the female lead in 'Blair Wars IV!' I've always wanted to play a scientist! Heehee!"

"You're, uh, welcome. So, you're off to Hollyworld in..."

"...three days, six hours, and fifteen minutes! I'll miss you, Chris-Chris!"

"I'll miss you, too, hon." Not. Too many secrets of my own to risk having her around. I made a mental note, however, to see "Return of the Tiger" some time; she was a better actress than I'd thought. "Uh, send that trans as is, hon, and let Major Marshall in; he's waited long enough."

"OK, Chr--er, ADMIRAL Chris-Chris!" She bounced up the stairs and blew me a kiss on her way out.

I reached under my desk and brought out Maniac's box of presents. I'd gone to a lot of trouble for him, but he'd earned it. His Playboy collection had bought us crucial repairs, his Miss July Inflatable log had turned the tide in the Dissembly debate, and he'd saved Tamara's life--and mine, for that matter.

Ah, Mr. Personality was coming down the stairs right now.

"About fucking time, Ace! Do you know how long you kept me--" He stopped and took in the expensive decor. "Holy shit! Nice digs, Ace! Who's your decorator? Emperor Nero? Haha ha! Hey, is this a Ming Vas--"

CRASH!

"Oops."

I waited patiently for him to find his way to my desk. Another five minutes, and he'd be out of my life forever. Five minutes...five fucking minutes.

Finally, he stopped before me, came to an approximation of attention, and sketched a lazy salute. "Major Todd Marshall reporting, Ace--er, ADMIRAL Ace! Haha ha!"

"Hello, Maniac," I replied evenly. "Are you ready to collect?"

"You bet I am!" he replied enthusiastically. Retrieving a slip of paper from his pocket, he continued, "You said anything I want, right? OK, the first thing on the list is a--"

"--Playmate of the Year Inflatable. The Deluxe Educational Edition, complete with toys and 'Hoyle's Sex Games' on data cartridge." I took the kit out of the box of goodies and handed it to him. "Next?"

"Uh, good. Thanks. Ahem. Next is a lifetime--"

"--subscription to Playboy." I handed him the certificate. "Platinum Key Membership, signed by Tawny Hefner herself. It includes the right to purchase one vintage issue per month at one credit each."

"Wow, Ace, that's-- Er, thanks. Next I want--"

"--another autographed copy of Chastity's centerfold." I gave him the gift- wrapped package. "Complete with lipstick print and tastefully framed in pink velvet. Take better care of this one, pal."

Gaping at the booty in his arms, Maniac was, for once, at a loss for words. "Uh...uh...wow! How did you know what I--"

"Hey! I'm the Admiral, remember?" I took the list from his limp fingers and ticked off the remaining items. "Yes...yes...Maniac, are you sure you want a lifetime supply of barbecue? Yes? OK. Yes...yes...no. Sorry, pal, even I can't screw a Space Marshal's appointment out of Rillary." Marshal Marshall? I shuddered at the very thought.

Retrieving a trans slip from my desk, I added, "I do have the next best thing, though. Promotion to Colonel and a staff appointment at the Academy. General Storr specifically asked for you."

He ripped the slip out of my hands and scanned it. "He asked for me? Not you? Well! Ya see, Ace? Raw talent beats luck every time! Haha ha!"

Maniac had indeed earned his appointment. The General figured there was no better example of a BAD officer in all of Confed. He had a whole curriculum planned around Maniac.

Maniac looked up from the slip. "Ya know, Ace, this still doesn't make up for humiliating me in front of fifty billion-- What's this?"

I handed him a data cartridge. "Messages. Thousands of them. From females begging to help rehabilitate the pitiful sitcom warfare victim. As a depraved pervert, you repel women; as a depraved casualty of war, I guess you appeal to their motherly instincts. By the way, did you know the incoming class at the Academy is nearly half female? With an average age of seventeen years, eight months?"

His jaw dropped. "H-h-half...? S-s-seven-t-t...?"

I turned him around and quickly propelled him out of my office, adding, "Solongpalstayintouch!"

Good riddance.

*

I was examining another promising Special Services candidate's folder when the comm buzzed at me.

"Captain Eisen is here, sir."

"Send him in, Ensign."

We met at the foot of the stairs and shook hands warmly. I patted his tummy, noting that he hadn't gained a gram since the Dissembly vote. "Laying off the barbecue, Captain?" I teased.

"Er, yes, Admiral, ever since Tolwyn...silly of me, I guess. Anyway, I'm glad you sent for me. Gives me a chance to say good-bye properly."

"Good-bye?" I offered him one of the sumptuous Fit-2-U's arranged around the mahogany coffee table.

"Ahhh," he sighed, easing into his chair. "Yes, I'm retiring. I figure I've had just about enough of this man's navy. Besides, I'm getting married again."

"Married? Who...of course! Captain Apton! Congratulations, Cap--er, Will!"

"Thank you, Admiral. It's not often a man gets a second chance at love."

The ache in my heart was proof of that.

"We're going to follow your example," he went on. "Buy some land, settle down, and live the quiet life. I've had enough excitement for two lifetimes."

Damn, this could put a crimp in my whole scheme. I drummed my fingers on the arm of my chair, trying to find the right approach. "Will, I'll have to ask you to postpone your plans, just for a bit."

He was suddenly wary. "Oh?"

"Yes. As you know, the Black Lance and their pirate cronies are going all-out for a military victory, now that their plan to subvert the Confederation has failed. So far we're holding our own, but I need a good man to lead our reserves in a counter-offensive."

I could tell he was tempted; the warrior in him wasn't quite retired. "That's very flattering, Admiral, but aren't you perfectly--"

I threw up my hands. "I'm up to my ears already, Will! Reunification talks with the Border Worlds, rooting out Tolwyn's cronies, procurement, caring for our neglected orphans, building the elite core of Confed's future military... I need YOU, Will. Your government needs you. Your race needs you. Your--"

He held up his hand, grinning. "Enough, already! I never could say no to you. When do I start?"

"Today." I touched the hidden holodisplay control. "The Union has grudgingly put its Militia under MY command--not Confed's--for the duration. That's why I need you in tactical command; you're the only other Confed officer the Union trusts. I'm giving you our reserves: four Confed and two Union carriers, operating in three groups; all our Bearcats, retrofitted with Dragon optics; at least one P-PNG-DOMM-equipped ship in each task force. The Lexington has just finished her repairs; I suggest you make her your flagship. The crew's itching to get back at the Black Lance after their internment at Starbase Halcyon. Oh, by the way, Will, could you, uh, look in on..."

"Lt. Disch? Don't worry, Admiral, I'll make sure she's OK."

"Thanks, Will. Ahem. Lexington will be joined shortly by the new BWS Willful. By the way, I hear the old boy's coffin is stashed under the bar in her officers' lounge!"

Eisen chuckled. "Very appropriate. OK, let's see..." He reached into the image poised over the table, pointing to a cluster of three systems on the far side of the Black Lance's conquered territory. "We'll strike here, behind their offensive, and surprise the bejeesus out of 'em. They'll have to cover their rear, and that will ease the pressure on our front lines."

"Excellent, Will. I approve. Now you should know that Sox crews will be coming along with you to shoot combat sequences and background material for 'Blair Wars V.' They're paying me--er, Confed--a bundle, so extend them every reasonable courtesy."

He sighed in resignation. "Was there ever a time when a war was a just a war, and not a media event?"

I grinned. "I doubt it. I understand Homer's 'Iliad' was known at the time as 'Troy Wars VII!' Heh heh. Seriously, Will, I want this this to be a different kind of war. You will expose your assets to a minimum of risk. If the enemy stands, smash him. If he runs, cut up his stragglers, nip at his heels, but leave him a path to his rear. We've wasted enough of our best and brightest on these scum."

He regarded me skeptically. "Admiral, the more we squeeze them, the more they concentrate. Sooner or later, we'll have a bloodbath--on both sides. Better to nail 'em while they're still spread--"

I shook my head. "No, for two reasons. First, they're getting nothing more from the SRA. No frigates, no fighters, no spares. The more they maneuver, the more they'll lose to wear and tear. Time is on our side, for a change. Second, I have--"

"I know, I know! You have a plan!" He sighed. "OK, Admiral, we'll do it your way, God help us!"

"Good." The third, and most important reason, I kept to myself.

"I'm bumping you to Rear Admiral. You'll have your choice of personnel, of course. The only exception is Lexington's wing commander; I have someone in mind for that spot." Seeing my old friend's sudden look of apprehension, I hastened to add, "No, I've put Maniac out to stud, and Hulk has gone off to raise rabbits on Pasqual X."

I killed the display. "My farm on Nephritis II is for sale, Will. If you want to buy it when you retire, I'll give you a good price. I'd like to keep it in the family, so to speak." Aware that I was becoming dangerously sentimental, I added, "Besides, the school district is one of the best on the planet! Heh heh."

We stood up and shook hands. "I just might take your offer, Admiral," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "Afton's been looking for a place with good schools."

"All my best to her, Will. Ensign Behlte is at your disposal for the rest of the day; she'll show you your office and introduce you to your staff." That killed two birds with one stone. Chastity's presence would only complicate my next appointments.

*

I was at the window again, watching the sun dance on Saturn's rings, when the reception AI buzzed.

"Sir, your 15:30 appointment is here."

"Send her in, please."

Colonel Tamara Farnsworth, temporarily assigned to the Terran Confederation Space Force, strode into my office in her crisp new Confed dress uniform. Her wounds healed, and fresh from the two weeks' leave I'd granted the survivors of the Noxzema battle, she radiated vitality. She wore no makeup, and her hair was up in its severe regulation bun, but she took my breath away.

Not one to waste time on preliminaries, she walked right up to me and put her arms around my neck. "OK, flyboy, no more games. Are you my knight in shining saucepan? Do I form on your wing...forever?"

In the back of my mind, a tiny voice was screaming at me: Oh boy, kiss her!

Instead, I gently disentangled myself and handed her the envelope with her orders.

Curious, she slipped the sheets out and began reading. "Colonel Farnsworth... blah blah blah...Wing Commander, TCS Lexington! Oh, Chris! So we fight the Black Lance together?" For a moment, she glowed with delight. Then she noticed my blank expression, and her face fell. "You're not coming," she said flatly. "You're kissing me off, aren't you?"

"Am I that obvious?"

She smiled, a transparent mask over her pain. "Hey, I'm the Wing Commander, remember?" She turned her back, so I couldn't see her wrestling with her emotions. "Why, Chris?"

I reached for her, then thought better of it. Fighting to control my voice, I said, "My flying days are over, Tamara. The hero you fell for did his own dirty work; now he's sending good people out to die for him. The hero I fell for couldn't love a guy like that, now could she?"

She sniffled a couple of times, then squared her shoulders and turned to face me again. "You know, Chris, I'd understand if you went back to your farm; I'd even understand if you chose another woman over me. But this..." She waved her hand around the opulent office. "You're right, I don't understand this and I never will." She snapped to attention and saluted. "G-good-bye...Admiral."

I returned her salute crisply. "Dismissed...Wing Commander."

*

Funny how the storms on Saturn reminded me of Tamara. That swirl down there, the one with a tail the size of the Earth, looked just like the delicate brown curl that always seemed to escape her bun...

"Your 16:00 is here, sir. Room temperature is up two degrees, as ordered."

"Thank you. Send her in."

First Lieutenant Velina Sosa, temporarily assigned to the Terran Confederation Navy, strode into my office in her crisp new Confed dress uniform. The scar on her forehead was gone, there was more color in her cheeks, and she had filled out ever so slightly while on leave. I even noted two tantalizing curves where there had been none before.

We clung to each other in wordless greeting; we'd been too long apart. When we let go, I smiled and turned her around slowly to get a better view.

"Looking good, Vee. Been on a beach somewhere?" I caressed her hand. "Mmm, not cold at all."

She smiled back at me. "Yes, it's warm and cozy in here. Thanks. Gee, it's good to see you smile again, Chris. In all those news interviews lately, all you do is scowl."

My smile faded. "I guess I'm just preoccupied. I have more responsibility now, you know."

Her smile vanished, too. "That's what worries me. Chris, I'm a comm expert, remember? I've stayed plugged in, even on leave. You're following in Tolwyn's footsteps: taking over the SRA, doing secret research, building your own army --yes, they're supposed to be Confed's new elite force, but I know better. And now you're going the old man one better with this Blair Youth cult!"

She took my hand and squeezed earnestly. "Chris, I've always known you have a dark side--every warrior does--but now it's growing stronger. Those last days on the Intrepid...here in this awful place...I see it, and it scares me. Don't give in to the dark side, Chris! Let me bring you back into the light. I can banish your darkness forever."

There was that voice again, calling to me from the back of my mind: For God's sake, kiss her!

But it was no match for the power of the dark side. Gently, but firmly, I peeled her hand off mine.

"The man you loved was a puppet, Velina. He's gone. From now on, I pull the strings. I'm going straight to the top, and to get there, I'll have to...do things. If I take you along, I'll just turn you against me, or worse, corrupt you, too. No, Vee, where I'm going, you can't follow."

The tears started to flow, then, and they were more than a match for the power of darkness. To keep myself from sweeping her into my arms, I hastily grabbed for the WipeX I'd prudently stashed in my pocket. Then, while she was drying her eyes, I retrieved the envelope from my back pocket.

"You've..." Dammit, Blair, spit it out! "You've earned your choice of assignments, Vee, but I'd consider it a favor if you...if you took this one."

Sniffling, she took the envelope, opened it, and read the first page. "Chief Comm Officer, TCS St. M-Melons? Don't they already...?"

"Captain Rollins has all he can handle, getting his ship repaired and into the Black Lance campaign. He has a scratch crew, and his people skills are, shall we say, still emerging. Your talents, both technical and otherwise, could make all the difference."

"And you kill two birds with one stone," she said bitterly. "Get rid of me and help rebuild your damn fleet at the same time."

Three birds, actually, if it worked out between Sosa and Rollins as I hoped. That still left a fourth bird unstoned: that empty place in my heart where Velina had been.

"You're right, though," she added. "I couldn't stay and watch you lose what little humanity you have left." Sosa took a deep breath, wiped her eyes one last time, and savagely stuffed the crumpled tissue into my breast pocket. "Here! A little memento from the Chief Comm Officer of the TCS St. Melons!" She spun on her heel and left my office without a backward glance.

I watched her all the way.

*

When she was gone, I went back to the window to observe the slow gravitational dance of the Saturn planetary system. Funny how it mimicked my own plight: attracted to each other by an irresistible and unknowable force, the orbiting moons were nevertheless kept forever apart by circumstances beyond their control. Just like Blair and Tamara, Blair and Velina, Blair and--

"Blairbear!"

Zelda Morgenstern paused at the top of the steps in her faded jeans and "Heart of the Tiger" T-shirt (I got 10% of each sale), her duffel bag carelessly dropped at her feet. With a whoop, she launched herself down the stairs, pony- tail flying behind her. Giddy as a schoolgirl, and looking very much the part in her casual civilian clothes, she leaped into my arms.

"I'm back!" she announced, somewhat redundantly. Her arms held me in a death grip.

I'm sorry to say I weakened then, and fervently embraced her: my ugly duckling who was, in her own way, more beautiful than my lovely Angel. All the time, that voice in the back of my mind was screaming: Kiss her, you fucking idiot! Carefully!

Instead, recovering from my lapse, I coaxed her down off me. Noting a streak of grease on her cheek, I held her at arm's length and looked her up and down. "Zelda, hon, your clothes are filthy. Where's your uniform? And why are you late?"

She was still bubbling with enthusiasm. "I got off the shuttle, and there was this new Dragon variant a few bays down. I wandered over to check it out, and watched them pull the cloaker for calibration. Guess what! It had some of my own mods! Well, I got to talking with the techs and eggheads, and pretty soon I was showing them my tweaks, and they showed me theirs, and we all got dirty, and there was no time to change, and--

"Uh, yeah. I had Intrepid's salvage crew send your cloaker to the SRA. The brainy types there used some of your ideas to improve the Dragon cloaker so it spoofs Dragon optics and even the new P-PNG-DOMM sensors. If it passes the field tests, it'll be the core of the Dragon II. By the way, I registered two patents in your name. At the rate we're building Dragons, you'll soon be a rich woman."

"I'm already rich, Blairbear! I have bad guys to fight, fighters to fix, and a man to love! What more could I want? So when do we start, Admiral Snookums?" If only it were that simple. I handed Zelda her orders and waited while she read through them.

"'Pasqual X?'" she quoted, puzzled. "'Official SRA Technical Liaison' to President Melek?" Uncertainly, she looked up from the papers, searching my eyes. "We're not serving together?"

"Well, in a way we are. I'm head of the SRA, and the Agency needs the new electronics the Kilrathi are developing. With your expertise, we'll get the exact stuff we need. Uh, there's really no one else I could send, hon."

Uh-oh, she wasn't fooled for a second. "You never could lie to me, hero," she said sadly. "It says here this is just for three months, but we both know it might as well be three centuries. You're dumping me. Why? Is it because I'm so--"

"You know better than that. I love you, and I always will, but I've learned the hard way that's not enough. I can't live in your world any more, and I know you can't live in the one I'm making for myself. You'll only get hurt if you try."

She was fighting tears now, and barely holding her own. When she spoke, her lovely voice was harsh with sarcasm. "In other words, you're b-breaking my heart b-because you love me? Gee, thanks a b-bunch!" She ignored my offer of tissue and wiped her eyes on her T-shirt. "Y'know, Chris? That last mission, when you thought you wouldn't come back? You were right: you didn't. Not to me, anyway."

She wiped her eyes again, then faced me squarely. "Well, congratulations, Admiral. Once again you got the job done. And so efficiently!" She jerked her thumb back at her duffel bag. "I don't even have to pack! So if you'll excuse me, I'll go have a g-good cry before my shuttle leaves."

She started away at a dignified pace, but she was practically running by the time she reached her bag. With a final glance that stabbed right through my heart, she was gone.

I stared numbly at the door long after Zelda was out of sight. I owed that woman everything, and the best way I had to repay her was to break both our hearts.

I had to do it, I told myself again and again. They loved the Heart of the Tiger, and I just couldn't be that guy any more. Nor could I ask any of them to be a farmer's woman--or a starlord's. The surest way to kill love is to demand that your lover be something he or she is not. Though I would miss them terribly, I'd done the right thing.

But I think I'll miss you most of all, scarecrow.

*

With my emotional decks cleared, so to speak, I threw myself heart and soul into The Plan. To group after group of Special Services candidates, I promised the same thing I had promised Justin: blood, sweat, tears, and toil--and the guarantee that one day they could look themselves in the mirror again. And they believed me. Not because the Heart of the Tiger promised it--although that was a major factor--but because they WANTED to believe. Just as I had wanted to believe Zelda over a decade ago, in my own hell on Caernarvon.

We trained day and night, seven days a week. With first call on Confed's resources, I had the best instructors and the best equipment. Once they were dried out, detoxed, and deloused, my gutter dogs proved eager students. In a few weeks they were performing like combat veterans again; in a few more they surpassed Confed's best units. With each new success, their loyalty to me grew. Fate had toyed with me unmercifully, but it had also made me a leader of men. Though discipline was rigorous, dropouts were few.

Despite the demands of my Special Services, I didn't neglect the Blair Youth. Again, I had the best psychologists and educators at my disposal, ample funds from Sox, and a heartbreakingly large pool of war orphans to choose from. The first group consisted of the three hundred boys--and a few of their sisters-- judged most likely to benefit from the paramilitary environment I demanded.

The moment they arrived at "Camp Blair," they began a disciplined program of athletics, academics, and military studies, with an emphasis on team effort and group achievement. Their induction into the cult of Blair was more subtle, but my loyalists on the staff never let the kids forget who had given them this second chance. Occasional visits by my fanatically loyal Special Servicemen reinforced the message: everyone else had written them off; the Heart of the Tiger had not. Exemplary performance, especially in helping other Youth, earned a personal trans from me; outstanding achievers were brought to HQ to meet the Heart of the Tiger in person. Blooming under the lavish attention of the staff, my kids quickly left their early disciplinary problems behind and developed into a team of overachievers fiercely loyal to each other--and to Christopher Blair.

Not before time. Despite what I'd told Admiral Eisen, time was still my enemy. I had a very narrow window of opportunity in which to shape my destiny, and that window shrank with each passing day. I drove my Special Servicemen, I drove the Blair Youth, and I drove myself, lest The Plan be outpaced by events.

Admiral Eisen's campaign against the Black Lance and its allies was progressing well, almost too well. As he had forseen, his initial attack threw the enemy into disarray, forcing them to break off their own offensive and react to his moves. In firm possession of the initiative, Eisen then ran them ragged in a series of swift thrusts. Halting his spearheads whenever they met determined resistance, he would quickly probe for new weak spots and attack again.

It was too much. With their forces weakening, their front riddled like Swiss cheese, and Eisen's strength growing every day, the Black Lance pulled back to the Pythagoran Cluster. In a last desperate bid to negotiate a favorable surrender, they fortified the Theorem System, threatening to inflict fearful losses on any attacking force.

Some four months after my last meeting with Admiral Eisen, the time had come. I ordered my Special Servicemen into action.

*

I seemed to spend my life gazing out windows. This particular one was in the flag quarters of the TCS Vesuvius. Outside, the ships of my great armada effortlessly kept pace with their speeding flagship. From time to time, new stars blazed briefly in the void: Special Servicemen putting their new Dragon II fighters through their paces. I'd just returned from a practice dogfight, and soon I would return to the fray. Just now, however, I had another duty.

Absently, I caressed my parrot's tummy feathers. In the last difficult months, she'd been my only companion. "You know, birdie," I said for the thousandth time, "we really should find you a name."

"Rawwk! Promises, promises!" She hopped from my shoulder onto my head and back again. "Awwk! Just call me Tolwyn! Pretty Chastity!"

"Ouch! Watch those claws, you bir--"

The comm lit up, interrupting my retort. It was the ship's Chief Comm Officer.

"Sir," he said, "I have the link, but we're moving out of range quickly. That hick planet's equipment is pretty ancient."

"Patch it through, please." With some trepidation, I sat down at the console. It had taken my agents nearly four months to track my quarry to this backwater region. When I learned that we would transit the system on our way to Theorem, I had resolved to contact him personally.

The display image dissolved into a view of a human female seated at an outdated comm console. She'd been almost pretty once, but toil and worry had taken their toll. In her eyes, however, I saw something akin to the spark I'd been noticing lately in my reformed gutter dogs.

"Admiral Blair," she said. "This is an unexpected...honor."

"Thank you. May I speak with Hobbes--er, Ralgha nar Hholles, please?"

"Who?" she asked quickly--too quickly.

"It's no good, Bobbie Jo. Clem told me about you and Hobbes. My agents filled in the gaps."

She slumped in resignation. "Well, we both knew this day was coming. My husband is at work. It's late here, you know...night shift was all he could get."

"Yes." As a traitor to two races, and a despicable villain in "Return of the Tiger," Hobbes was lucky to get anything.

"Admiral," she said, pleading. "You were friends, once. Must you...?"

I held up my hand to stop her. "Tomorrow a man will call on Hobbes. He'll have with him an honorable discharge from the Confederation Space Force, and a personal letter from the President, explaining his defection as a top secret covert op. It won't completely erase his reputation, of course, but it should help."

She was dumbfounded. "I-I don't understand. After he betrayed..."

"He betrayed no one, Bobbie Jo. He was always very clear about his loyalties. He joined Confed to turn his people away from war and inevitable destruction. When he left Confed, he was just trying to save them again. I should have transferred him when I learned what Tolwyn was up to, but in my vanity, I assumed our friendship outweighed loyalty to his race. For that, I'm sorry."

Bobbie Jo was smiling now, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "T-thank you, Admiral. My husband was right: you are a man of honor."

Not for much longer, heh heh.

"Thank you. We'll be out of range in a minute, so I guess this is-- What was that?"

A ball of orange-brown fur had suddenly streaked across the room behind her. Instantly she was off in pursuit. "Laurel!" she called. "Bad kitty! You're supposed to be in bed!" After a few moments, she returned to the console, clutching a wriggling Kilrathi youngster in her arms.

I was immediately reminded of Zeke's kids, although this one was at least two years older than his firstborn. "I see you've adopted. A relative of Hobbes?"

Bobbie Jo was soothing the she-kit with slow caresses of her tummy fur. "No. He found Laurel on his...travels, just before the end of the War. She's the last survivor of a colony destroyed by Confed." She gazed lovingly at her daughter for a moment before continuing. "Admiral? Have you heard anything from...Clem?"

"I, uh, got a trans just the other day. He's remarried, his farm is doing better, and the kids seem to like their new mom. They miss you, though."

She hugged her precious bundle a little closer. "I-I miss them, too. I guess that's the price of my freedom: eternal...regret."

Tell me about it, lady. "Good-bye, Bobbie Jo."

"Good-bye, Admiral Blair."

*

My armada arrived in the Axiom system the next day. Admiral Eisen's fleet was split between Axiom and Lemma, blockading the only two exits from Theorem. According to my plan, his forces would remain there, guarding the jump points, while I took my three Vesuvius class carriers and their escorts into Theorem. It was unfair of me to relegate Eisen to a secondary role at the moment of glory, but The Plan had no room for extra heroes. After transferring the Sox holocam crews to my ships, we jumped to Theorem for our showdown with the Black Lance.

Taking personal command of the battle, I donned a black uniform, hopped into a Dragon II, and led my Special Servicemen into the most lopsided victory in Confederation history. Outnumbering the remnants of the Black Lance, and flying machines of superior performance, we cut them to pieces. It wasn't just numbers, either. My superbly trained Special Servicemen were fighting for more than just their lives; they were fighting for self-respect. Even on those rare occasions when they fought outnumbered, my men still flew rings around the Black Lance.

After three days of slugging through the Theorem defense planes, we fought a ten-hour running battle with the motley fleet of Black Lance frigates, and destroyed them utterly. After that, the demoralized supermen surrendered their HQ intact. We added about a thousand more prisoners to the total we'd taken in the previous six months, including several hundred "mongrel" pirates and most of the Black Lancettes. I was saddened to learn that the real "Heather" wasn't among them; I never did find out what happened to her.

The Heart of the Tiger was magnanimous in victory. Certain the Dissembly would back me up, I offered the prisoners a choice: trial and almost certain execution, or the chance to atone for their crimes on the Locanda IV Decon Project. Not surprisingly, they opted for the dangerous and arduous task of reclaiming the dead planet; better to live in hope than die with none. Killing two birds with one stone again, I assigned a certain three Marines from Orestes IV as permanent guards for Prisoner 4123106, one Vinson Garr. Heh heh.

As I had known when I gave Will Eisen his orders, the decisive Theorem victory was a glorious climax to his superb, but unglamorous campaign of maneuver. Post-battle publicity lionized the Special Servicemen and their leader, the Heart of the Tiger, while all but ignoring the workmanlike Eisen. I made sure, of course, that he and his people received the medals and promotions they had earned, but I kept the publicity low-key. Admiral Eisen's subsequent wedding and retirement were all but ignored by the press.

Two weeks after the Battle of Theorem, I was back at Camp Blair, surrounded by adoring Blair Youth and fawning media types. With superb timing--Rillary was a consummate politician--her summons to the Pink House arrived in the middle of my outdoor press conference. Justin quickly selected the youngest and most hologenic of our few girls to deliver the trans slip to me. As I held her up so she could see over the podium, she solemnly announced that Admiral Blair would receive the Dissembly Medal of Honor (again) and a promotion to Space Marshal. Then she gave me a big hug.

The news broadcasts that evening led with that scene: the mighty Heart of the Tiger, fiercest warrior of his era, shedding tears over a hug from an adorable little orphan girl. Had the presidential election been held the next day, I would have won in a landslide.

The next morning, reading the Insta-Poll results over my coffee, I smiled in satisfaction. The Plan was coming together with dizzying speed. President Hinton's party was in disarray, as none of the presidential candidates had received a majority in the primaries. The nominating convention, just a week away, promised to be a political bloodbath. Desperate to avoid an electoral debacle, some of the party leaders were already begging the Heart of the Tiger to take the convention by storm. According to the polls, a majority of the voters also wanted me to run.

Coincidentally--or seemingly so, heh heh--Confed and the Union were about to sign the Reunification Pact; analysts pontificated endlessly on the pivotal role of the Heart of the Tiger, the only negotiator both sides would accept. Even better, the pre-release publicity for the epic "Blair Wars IV" was at its peak; critics predicted a mega-blockbuster. By the time the convention opened, God Himself wouldn't have the name recognition of Christopher Blair--er, no offense, big guy.

And now the final piece of The Plan had fallen into place. I opened the ultra- secret message capsule from my bioconvergence expert and quickly scanned the note:

Final Analysis of PAL Bioagent (Summary)

Working from Dr. Boddie's files, I was able to create both PAL bioagent and a vaccine. Tests on four prisoners taken in the current campaign confirm all predictions: 1) PAL is 100% effective on both male and female subjects; 2) the contagious form is extremely infectious; 3) PAL effects are irreversible; 4) the vaccine is 100% effective; it is incorporated into the human genome, hence immunity is passed on to offspring; 5) in the field, PAL has a half-life of six to eight years.

According to computer models, an entire planet can be infected in a matter of hours; given the longevity of the bioagent, the recommended quarantine period is as much as 150 years. It is indeed fortunate that this agent was never used on a planetary scale, as its psychological effects would undoubtedly be horrific.

Since PAL-treated subjects are all but irresistible to normal humans of both sexes, the potential for abuse is incalculable. If you don't immediately order the destruction of PAL and all information related to it, I shall have to do it myself.

Albert Beerstein, Ph.D.

As the message self-destructed, I thoughtfully broke off a small piece of toast and held it up for my parrot. "What do you say, birdie? Should I put this guy on ice? We'll need that vaccine for my Special Servicemen."

She grabbed the morsel and downed it without dropping a single crumb on my shoulder. "Rawwk! Keel-haul the beggar! Heehee!"

I snorted. "No, bird-brain! We'll just keep him quiet until I've done what I have to do. After that, I'll make him an offer he can't refuse. I just hope Justin can get everything ready by tomorrow."

The moment of my triumph was at hand.

*

I sat quietly on the dais with the other VIPs, trying my best to look heroic, yet humble, while President Hinton droned on at the podium. Fifty billion people would see this ceremony in the next few days, so I was careful not to scratch myself in any undignified places. I inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrances wafting across the lawn from the Pink House Rose Garden. At this supreme moment, I had never felt more alive, more attuned to my surroundings. Tolwyn was wrong: it wasn't power that was intoxicating; it was freedom.

Of all my regrets, one was particularly prominent at the moment. I pulled out the transgram from Melek and read it for the umpteenth time.

Congratulations, Heart of the Tiger, on your momentous victory. You are truly a living legend. I pray our two races will thrive under your protection for many years to come.

Please, no apologies for missing our Joining ceremony. After all, you made our happiness possible; my new lair-mate and I offer you our joyful thanks.

Inspired by your Blair Youth, we have decided to adopt two war orphans ourselves: one Kilrathi, one human. Though it is unseemly for a Kilrathi to admit weakness, I must confess my anxiety at the prospect of parenthood. My lair-mate of course has no such reservations. She is only the second human I have met who has a Kilrathi heart.

I look forward to our next meeting, Christopher, as do my people. Whether you come as president, warrior, or farmer, the Kilrathi are eager to honor their greatest hero.

Good old Melek. I was sure his love was genuine, but the Joining and the adoptions were also convenient symbols of the new unity between Kilrathi and human. Should a threat to both races arise in the future--the almost mythical Mantu, for instance--such symbols could spell the difference between extinction and survival.

The private addendum from Zelda mas shorter.

Once I got over my hurt and thought it over, I realized what you're really up to, and why. You see, Blairbear, I still know you better than you think. I can't approve, but I understand the compulsion that drives you. My heart goes with you always.

Damn, Melek was one lucky cat! PS Chris, you never told me Melek is such a great back-scratcher!

With a start, I realized that Rillary had just called my name. To thunderous applause from the guests standing on the lawn, I rose and joined her at the podium. In contrast to her long-winded speech, the regulation ceremony would be short and sweet.

"Christopher Blair," she intoned solemnly. "For meritorious service above and beyond the call of duty, the Great Dissembly awards you the Confederation's highest honor." She reached into the box held by her aide and took out the medal. I removed my uniform cap and inclined my head so Rillary could drape the Confed blue ribbon about my neck. Then she kissed me on both cheeks, French style, and smacked me flush on the lips, Russian style--with more French thrown in for good measure.

Down at the foot of the dais, the news crews were suddenly abuzz; Rillary's husband, Clinton, had disappeared a week ago under mysterious circumstances, and speculation was rampant as to which of her paramours would replace him. Curiously, Barbara Dahl didn't seem to share her colleagues' interest; the look on her face was more like...jealousy? Hmmm...

The President held up her hands to quell the enthusiastic applause. "We're not done yet!" she declared, smiling. Turning to me again, she said, "It is my honor AND my pleasure to promote the Confederation's greatest hero to the rank of Space Marshal, and to place command of all Confederation military forces in his capable hands."

Rillary took the silver Marshal's star from her aide and likewise hung it around my neck. She tossed my uniform cap aside, replacing it with the regulation ten gallon Marshal's hat (white, of course). While other aides attached the spurs to my boots, Rillary herself buckled the gunbelt (complete with silver bullets) around my waist. I reverently accepted the twin ivory-handled Colt .45s, spun them neatly by the trigger guards, tossed them in the air and caught them behind my back, and deftly twirled them into their holsters.

While tying the uniform bandanna around my neck, Rillary brought her lips close to my ear. "Come to me tonight, buckaroo," she whispered, "and we'll 'discuss' my endorsement of your candidacy. Bring your spurs." Then she stepped back and led the crowd in a deafening ovation. As prescribed in the regs, I yelled "Yippee-ki-yay!" and fired two blank rounds into the air.

That ended the formal part of the ceremony. After the approbation had died down somewhat, Rillary urged me forward for an impromptu press conference. Happy to oblige, I moseyed on up to the edge of the platform and smiled down on the reporters and news crews. They jostled against each other, vying for my attention and shouting questions, but I ignored all of them. Reaching down, I took Barbara Dahl's hands and easily lifted her up onto the platform.

Flustered, but clearly pleased at being so singled out, she took a moment to smooth her dress before raising her microphone and assuming her professional smile. Making sure the TCN newscams had an unobstructed view (and the com- petition didn't), she turned to me and voiced the question on everyone's lips.

"Christopher Blair, you've just defeated the Black Lance, reunited the Confederation, and received humanity's highest decoration. What are you going to do next?"

An expectant hush fell over the crowd. I knew exactly what I was going to do, of course, but I deliberately let the tension build; now that The Plan had come to fruition at last, I wanted to prolong the moment as long as possible.

Out in the crowd, a representative from Dizzy World held up a huge check; in the "Amount" space was a "one" followed by so many zeroes that they ran off the edge. Behind him, a dozen different ad agency reps waved contracts at me.

To their left stood the famous Spieven Steelburg, with Chastity on his arm. Smiling her megawatt smile, Chastity held up a publicity holoposter for "Blair Wars IV: The Wrath of the Tiger," which was already shattering revenue records a week before its release. On it was holovid superstar Donald Hasenpfeffer, reprising his Oscar-winning role as the Heart of the Tiger. Tall and muscular, he stood bare-chested, cigar clenched in his teeth, blazing photon rifle in one hand and half-naked Chastity in the other.

Steelburg himself held up another poster, blank except for the words

Blair Wars V: The Undiscovered Tiger
Starring: ????

The implication was clear: the media megastardom that had eluded me in my youth was now within my grasp.

The chairman of Rillary's party waved at me from the front of the crowd. He, too, had a holoposter, only this one bore my likeness, retouched to look more visionary, and the words

BLAIR FOR PRESIDENT
(It's the Tiger, stupid!)

I winced. That campaign slogan would have to go, but otherwise I practically had a lock on the office.

Taking my time, I surveyed the adoring crowd. I had achieved the pinnacle of human ambition. Wealth, fame, adulation, and power were mine for the asking. Everything that Tolwyn had failed to obtain by conspiracy, murder, and force of arms was about to be handed to me on a plate.

My time had come. Turning to my companion, I smiled engagingly and began, "Barbara, I'm going to..."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the crowd on the lawn. A wave of applause was already starting...

"...SCREW YOUR SOCKS OFF!!!"

Then I wrestled a horrified Barbara Dahl to the deck and tore at her clothes in a mad sexual frenzy.

*

Well, that was the end of the "Blair for President" movement; after disgracing myself in front of fifty billion people, I couldn't be elected village idiot. That was it for "Marshal Blair," too. Minutes after the Secret Service had dragged me off the dais and into the Ovaltine Office, a trembling Rillary had stormed in and demanded my badge, spurs, medals, library card, and her panties. Then she offered me a "choice:" a public trial for assault that could destroy the Confederation--and me along with it--or honorable discharge and permanent retirement. Knowing that a trial would also expose the evidence of treason in my files, I readily assented. I already had what I wanted. Better yet, I had even answered my old questions about Barbara Dahl: 1) No, 2) Yes.

Afterward, in the unmarked vehicle that whisked me away from the Pink House, my two grim-faced Secret Service "escorts" must have wondered why I was smiling; after all, I had just thrown away everything a man could want.

Except that I DIDN'T want it--any of it. I knew what neither Tolwyn, nor Theether, nor even President Hinton would ever know: power is a trap--sweet, cloying, mesmerizing, but a trap nonetheless. To gain and maintain her power, Rillary had compromised her principles and sold her soul a thousand times over; yet still she lived in terror of the latest Insta-Poll. Tolwyn, had his plot succeeded, would have looked uneasily over his shoulder for the rest of his life, awaiting the inevitable photon blast from the next guy who wanted it all; if not Theether, then the next guy, or the next.

You see, when you give yourself up to ambition, there's no end to your greed, or what you'll do to satisfy it. If I wasn't happy with a good woman and a piece of land, then the entire galaxy wouldn't be enough for me. No, I had vowed never again to be anyone's pawn--not even my own.

So why the elaborate charade of the past few months? Why the private army, the false plans to dissolve the Dissembly after the election? Sure, I could have returned to my farm, or fled to some backwater world and tried to live in obscurity, but as soon as the next crisis threatened, Confed would have spared no expense to root out its greatest hero and drag him back to the rescue. To be truly free, it wasn't enough to hide where no one could find me; I had to ensure that no one WANTED to find me.

Yeah, freedom always had its price. It was just too bad that for Christopher Blair, the price of freedom was eternal disgrace.

*

After the Secret Service dropped me at the spaceport, I took my private shuttle up to the orbiting Sappho. Justin had already embarked my Special Servicemen and Blair Youth, so we immediately lit out for the frontier. Our only stop was at Nephritis II, where I stopped by Zeke's place to pick up my girls.

Zeke had two new youngsters, now, a boy and a girl. As I held young Jedediah in my arms, hissing and snarling at him in the Kilrathi manner, Zeke stood nearby, shaking his massive head in bewilderment.

"Christopher, what have you done? With the Heart of the Tiger disgraced, the Border Worlds have withdrawn from the Reunification Pact. Other worlds on both sides of the border threaten further secessions. I warn you, my foolish friend, the Mantu are NOT a myth! If they find humans divided and squabbling, they will easily conquer you--and us."

I handed the purring kitten back to Thelma and gave her a big Kilrathi-style lick on her furry cheek. Though she could hardly have felt it--I lacked the large, raspy tongue of the Kilrathi--she purred briefly in appreciation before taking her youngster into the house for his afternoon nap. I pulled a few hairs off my tongue, and considered my answer carefully.

"Zeke, human history is basically one long struggle between freedom and tyranny. Again and again, though tyranny might gain the upper hand, it could never completely conquer the hodgepodge of competing cultures that make up humanity. Will Eisen was right: Confed is an accident of history, a temporary conglomeration born of fear and doomed to inevitable breakup. Some of the fragments may fall into despotism, but as long as some humans, somewhere, remain free, liberty remains within the reach of all."

"Fine words won't defeat the Mantu, Christopher! Only unity--"

"If we can't put aside our differences in the face of a common threat, then we don't deserve to survive! Besides, which has a better chance of defeating your imaginary friends? A monolithic--and therefore stagnant--empire, or a dozen or a hundred competing cultures cross-pollinating one another on their paths into the future? No, Zeke. Like it or not, for humanity the price of freedom is eternal diversity."

He sighed. "Perhaps you are right, Christopher. Kilrathi have always been a single culture, and look where it got us. Melek may be correct in his alliance with humans, and his adoption of their ways."

The thought of Melek--and Zelda--brought with it pangs of jealousy and regret. Hastily, I changed the subject.

"Anyway, Zeke old friend, you seem much less frazzled than when I left." I gave him a sly wink. "Have your harem honeys found a new playmate?"

He looked at me strangely. "Actually, Christopher, they have--in a way. About a month ago, while cleaning your closet, Chloe discovered a set of very cunning vibratory devices. Since then, my lair-mates have thankfully been much less, er, amorous. But I am puzzled, Christopher. What possible use could humans have for these objects?"

"Humans? Uh, we use them for, er...stirring! Yeah, that's it! Coffee and soup and such. Heh heh. Uh, please keep them as my farewell gift to you."

"Thank you, Christopher. Now that I have regained my vitality, I would hate to lose it again; I might have to resign from the Parent-Teacher Association."

"You joined the local PTA? But Zeke, your oldest won't start school for at least--"

"Christopher!" he rebuked. "It is never too early to get involved in the education of one's offspring! And a good thing I am, too! Would you believe, my friend, that Kilrathi history is barely mentioned in the local curriculum? Scandalous!"

"Uh, yeah, hard to believe. But with your, er, political experience, I'm sure you'll have considerable influence--"

"Hah! How little you know! Christopher, the human PTA makes Kilrathi politics look like kitten's play! I swear, I see more petty infighting and backstabbing in one PTA meeting than I did in a year in my grandfather's Throne Chamber! Your 'diversity' may be the price of freedom, Christopher, but the price of diversity is eternal bickering!"

"Heh heh. You'll get the hang of it, old friend. And now, I'm afraid I must take my leave. Thanks for taking care of my place, Zeke. I'm sure Will Eisen will be pleased when he moves in."

"Eisen?" There was alarm in Zeke's eyes now. "Eisen of the TCS Victory? Of the brilliant Black Lance Campaign? But Christopher, what will he do when he finds out who I--"

I shook my head. "Don't worry, Zeke. He wants to put the past behind him as much as I did. You'll find him and his new wife most congenial. In fact," I said, giving Zeke a little nudge, "why don't you drop in and surprise him? With a jug."

Zeke stared at me for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Hohoho! Excellent suggestion, Christopher! I shall give him a welcome he will never forget!"

I had no doubt of that, heh heh. I picked up my bag and inhaled deeply, taking in the rich farm odors and admiring for the last time the pastoral scene around me: rolling fields as far as the eye could see; youngsters playing with Robin and Rachel, or just running wild; Zeke's lair-mates engaged in their afternoon chores; Zeke himself standing there in his dirty overalls and straw hat, power pitchfork in his paw.

I held out my hand. "Good-bye and good luck, Zeke. We won't meet again."

He carefully clasped my hand in his huge paw. "I shall miss you, Heart of the Tiger. But where will you go, now that you are outcast, as I am? One of the legendary lost Terran colonies?"

"There's only one place I can go, Zeke: the Last Jump Point."

"The Last Jump Point? But Christopher, no probe or manned expedition has ever returned through it! There are easier ways to find eternity, my friend."

"Maybe not eternity. Maybe they found something so good they didn't WANT to return." I winked at him. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find Paradise."

Epilogue

Below me, the sunlit hemisphere of Elysion beckoned with all its luxuriant, seductive beauty. Though impatient to land and begin my new life, I was too good a pilot to take foolish shortcuts. Taking my time, I eased the Sappho onto the safest vector through the orbiting mines. Deactivation would last another thirty minutes, of course, but a pilot who wanted to die in bed took no unnecessary risks, especially with such a valuable cargo.

Occupied with my delicate maneuvers, I paid little attention to the recorded news my comm officer had piped to the co-pilot's console. Barbara, however, happily ensconced in the co-pilot's seat, seemed to be enjoying it. Maybe she got a kick out of watching Dam Blather make an idiot out of himself as the new lead anchor of the Nightly News.

Between course corrections, I caught snatches of the broadcast myself. "...known as the Heart of the Tiger...disgraced...permanently retired... strain of long and hazardous service...new revelations daily...scandal... embezzlement...private army...fixing parking tickets...paternity suits... rumored to have taken the Last Jump Point...whereabouts unknown."

Amen to that last part. After Nephritis, I'd taken the Sappho to the very limits of Confederation territory. Though there was no sign of pursuit, I followed my elaborate deception routine to the letter. Approaching the Last Jump Point, I'd sent an unmanned shuttle ahead, activated the Sappho's newly installed cloaker, and turned aside at the last instant. Any observer would be convinced we were gone forever. Still cloaked, we made our way to an obscure jump point and headed for our real destination.

That destination was growing closer by the moment. We were clearing the mines, now, and shuttles from the planet were clamoring for docking vectors. Clint, my comm officer, had to keep putting them off.

Meanwhile, Blather droned on. "Barbara Dahl in seclusion...rumored pregnancy ...not pressing charges..." I quit listening for a moment, as I slipped the Sappho past the last few mines, then tuned in again when we were in the clear.

"Four weeks before the election, Elsie Hinton, daughter of the incumbent, has a commanding lead in the polls. The Secret Service has already stepped up its recruiting efforts, anticipating the demands of a younger, more activist Chief Executive."

I called over to my comm officer. "Hey, Clint, looks like your daughter's going to be President of the Confederation!"

He turned to me and smiled, drawling, "Ah feel their pain." He started to say something more, then stopped.

"Something on your mind, Clint?"

"Er, yeah. It's just that ever since ah met you in person, somethin's been botherin' me."

Uh-oh.

"Chris, aren't yew the guy from--"

"No, I'm n-- Oh hell, I give up! Yes! I'm the guy from 'Corvette Summer!' OK? HAPPY?" Sheesh. I'd been trying to live that down my whole life. The fifth remake of the Twentieth Century classic had been an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, finally displacing "Showgirls" as the winner of the most "Razzie" awards. I'd only taken the starring role to earn my Academy tuition; I should have robbed a bank instead.

Clint's grin went from ear to ear. "Ah jest LOVED thet show!" Humming the awful "Corvette Summer" theme--it won a "Razzie"--he went back to his work.

I just rolled my eyes. No wonder Rillary never bothered looking for him.

Time for orbital insertion. I programmed an equatorial orbit and sat back to let the autopilot take us in. Noting that Barbara was still intently watching Dam Blather, I gently nudged her.

"Jeez, Barbi--Barbara. Haven't you had enough of that guy yet?"

"Rawwk! The price of news is eternal Blather! Awwk!" Barbara flapped her wings and swooped up to my shoulder.

I ruffled her tummy feathers. "Enjoy him while you can, hon. You won't see the Nightly News again for a hundred and fifty years." Afterward, if Confed wanted to dig up my bones and recall them to active duty, that was just fine with me.

The hatch opened, and Justin Thyme came onto the flight deck with my two girls. "Hey there, Clint," he said. "Miss the Dragon Lady yet? Heh heh. Hi, Chris. Your girls wanted a look at their new h-- Whoa! That's one beautiful world down there!"

Not one to waste her time on something she couldn't eat, Rachel barely glanced at the view before leaping into my lap. Barbara eyed her suspiciously, but Rachel was interested only in a tummy rub. Robin, in contrast, settled into the co-pilot's seat and peered intently at the planet below us.

"It certainly is, Justin." I lazily caressed Rachel's tummy, marvelling yet again at the downy softness of her under-fur.

"So why'd you name it Elysion, Chris?"

"In Greek mythology, Elysion was the part of the underworld roughly equivalent to the Christian Heaven, or Paradise. Now that we're dead to the rest of humanity, what better place to spend eternity, eh?"

"No argument there." Justin paused a moment before continuing in a different tone. "Look, Chris, the men want to thank you--hell, I want to thank you--for what you're doing. I mean, we had our doubts when it looked like you were just using us to seize power, and we thought you were fucking nuts when you pulled that stunt at the Pink House, but we should have known you wouldn't let us down. We should have believed in you, like you believed in us."

"You did, Justin. All of you, including the kids. If just one of you had lost faith and spilled the beans, we wouldn't be here. Besides, I didn't give you much choice, heh heh."

The ship's AI signalled orbital insertion. I shut down the engines and checked our orbital parameters...perfect. Almost immediately, I felt a slight shudder from the ship, as the first of the impatient shuttles docked with us.

Grinning, I turned to my friends. "OK, everybody, last stop. Justin, why don't you go greet our new neighbors? I'll be along as soon as I shut down."

"My pleasure. Who wants to come with me?"

"Yahoo! Ah'm comin'!"

"Woof woof!"

"Meow!"

"Rawwk!"

When the dust had settled, I was alone on the flight deck.

Though flight systems shutdown was a simple procedure, I found myself lingering over each item on the checklist, reluctant perhaps to abandon my last command to the wreckers. Old and tired, she had nevertheless served me as faithfully as she had served her previous owners...

Strangely, though my memories of Robin and Rachel were as vivid as ever, I no longer felt the pain of losing them. Perhaps I'd finally accepted the fact that they were never really mine to lose. Or perhaps it was the certainty that my long search for a life's companion was finally near its end. After all, if I couldn't find my soulmate on a planet full of farmer's daughters, then she didn't exist anywhere in the galaxy.

Well, enough screwing around. After a final check of the instruments, I left the pilot's seat and headed for the hatch. I couldn't begin my new life until we'd transferred the Sappho's cargo: Blair Youth, Special Servicemen, farm equipment, earthworms, one bioconvergence chemist, and four PAL test subjects.

And fifty thousand D-cup bras.

THE END

Conclusion

Finally, the last chapter of the saga. Man, there were times when I never thought we'd get this far. :-)

Thanks to everyone who E-mailed me with (mostly) encouraging comments. Thanks also to everybody who participated in the WC discussions on alt.games.wing- commander; at least two major plot twists in WC 4.123106 were inspired by threads from the newsgroup. A special thanks to Chris Reid for putting the story on his Web site.

WC 4.123106 will remain on its FTP site indefinitely. From time to time I'll probably make minor corrections to the chapters there, but nothing more than fixing typos or improving the occasional awkward phrase or two. There will not be a "Special Edition" or anything like that. :-)

Had I known how long this project would take (over a year and a half), I never would have started it. I don't regret doing it, however, because of all I learned about writing (mainly that I'll never do it for a living!) and freedom. Now that I'm done, I can see from my FTP directory that for me, the price of freedom was about 1.4 megabytes. :-)

IT'S DONE! I'M FREE! I'M FREE! HAHAHAHAHA!

Tables des matières

Cover

Publishing and acknowledgements

Editor's word

Introduction

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

Conclusion