Loki System

"Targets! Targets! Targets!"

Blair's eyes shifted instinctively to his sensor screen as Rollins chanted the warning. Suddenly the monitor was crawling with the red-orange dots representing enemy fighters, four distinct swarms of Kilrathi craft arranged in a rough half-globe. But they were close, too close . . . well inside the range of Terran sensors. And on the far side of the Behemoth from Victory.

Cloaked Strakha, then. They had lain in wait while the Terran squadron passed by, striking only now when the mine field cut off their advance and the Behemoth was momentarily uncovered and vulnerable.

The Kilrathi must have known the significance of the weapon and the Terran plan of attack. It was blatantly clear that all the talk about a possible spy giving away secrets to the Empire was more than just speculation.

Blair pushed the thought aside. Time enough to worry about that later. Right now, the Kilrathi were closing fast with the Behemoth.

"Red and White Squadrons!" he snapped. "Double back and engage the enemy as quickly as possible." That would send the point defense ships into action directly, but it wouldn't provide much cover to the weapons platform itself "Blue Squadron, Gold Squadron, follow me!"

He banked sharply, lining up on the Behemoth's looming mass and opening up his throttles to full power. With afterburners blazing, Blair dove straight toward the huge weapon. The others trailed him, only thirteen fighters in all. A part of Blair's mind dwelt idly on the question of whether or not the number of ships was significant. An ill omen, perhaps?

"Skipper. . ." Denise Mbuto roused him from his reverie. "Don t you think . . . ?"

"Comm silence!" he snapped. "Follow my lead, damn it!"

And still they dove, until the weapons platform filled the entire forward cockpit view and he could make out individual structures and projections on the hull of the gigantic device. As they swept down toward the metal surface, Blair suddenly pulled up, skimming within fifty meters of the Behemoth. He had a maniacal grin on his face as he pictured the reactions in the other fighters behind him.

"Whooeee! What a ride!" Marshall shouted, and Blair didn't reprimand him for breaking communications silence. The man's reaction was something he could understand perfectly. He wanted to shout out loud himself.

Instead he forced himself to think about the battle as a whole. "Watchdog, Watchdog, this is Guardian Leader," he said on the command channel. "Come in, Watchdog."

Again it was Tolwyn, and not Rollins, who answered his call. "Damn it, Blair, get in there! '' he snapped. "You have to protect the Behemoth!"

"We're on it, Admiral," Blair replied. "But some support from the destroyers would be a good idea. Coventry, too, if she's able."

"Negative on that," Tolwyn replied. "We've just spotted a flotilla of Kilrathi cap ships closing on us. They're at extreme range but coming in fast. Sheffield is moving to delay them. And Ajax is trying to clear a route through the minefield."

"She'll never make it," Blair said. "You know the odds against spotting every mine when you're in something as big as a destroyer."

"Coventry's launching her fighters, but she's in bad shape. And Bondarevsky's been wounded. . ." The Admiral was struggling to maintain control. He stopped, visibly gathering his composure before he spoke again. "Just do your job, Blair. Tolwyn clear."

The channel went dead, and Blair cursed under his breath. Tolwyn was so concerned with finding a way around or through those mines that he was throwing away valuable assets just when they needed them most.

Blair dismissed the thought. Tolwyn would fight this battle his own way. What mattered now was the flight wings part in it all.

Still skimming low over the curved body of the Behemoth, the Terran fighters flashed past the pressurized section of the hull where the control center and crew's quarters were housed. Beyond lay the battle zone, where the two squadrons of Hellcats were already making their presence known against the Strakha. Blair pulled up sharply as his sensors registered the fighting, climbing steeply away from the weapons platform. His maneuver had placed the two squadrons, Arrows and Thunderbolts, between the Kilrathi and their target Now all they had to do was make the move count for something . . .