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"Go away, Knight. I flew a patrol at Oh-Four-hundred hours," Hunter
said. "That can't even have been two hours ago! Give me a break, I can't be
up for patrol."
Joe pulled his blanket off, leaving him shivering in the blast from the
ventilators. "You're on the roster, Hunter. Hell, we all are. As of last night,
everyone's flying patrols on a four hours on, four hours off schedule.
Colonel's orders."
Hunter crawled out of his bunk, found one last clean flight suit hanging
in his locker, and dressed quickly. No time to shower, or even shave...
Joe brought over two cups of coffee from the wardroom next door to
the Barracks while Hunter was dressing, and Hunter gratefully accepted
one. "Thanks, mate," he said, grimacing at the bitterness of the coffee.
This is why this guy's callsign fits him, Hunter thought, Because he acts
like a knight and a gentleman, even in the face of a surly Aussie who
hasn't had enough sleep!
"I'll meet you at the briefing room," Knight said, starting for the door.
"I'll be there in a few," Hunter said, finishing the coffee. It didn't quite
clear the fuzziness out of his brain, but was a good start. Enough so he
could at least start thinking about what Joe had said.
In the week since they'd brought the renegade captain's Fralthi into a
parked position next to the Claw, the enemy presence in the Firekka
System had increased by a factor often. Hunter was beginning to wonder
if the Kilrathi ships that were arriving in force were all because of the
escaped Fralthi. He could understand them sending a couple ships after
the Ras Nik'hra, to try and destroy it before the humans could take it out
of the system, but the number of ships they'd been encountering&
He was keeping a running tally of the ships they'd sighted, and a
personal tally of the ships they'd destroyed, and their own losses. So far
the Tiger's Claw and Austin pilots had done exceptionally well, no
casualties and only a few ships damaged beyond repair, mostly because
the cats didn't seem to expect any enemy presence this far out in this
system. But that was bound to change eventually. Sooner or later, the
Kilrathi ships were going to start comparing notes. Sooner or later,
someone was going to send a message back to their equivalent of High
Command.
And sooner or later, the Confed pilots were going to start making
mistakes. Especially if he and the other pilots were flying so many patrols
that they were too exhausted to think straight.
It had to break, eventually. Either the reinforcements would arrive, or
they'd be recalled from this system. Hunter didn't want to think about
that, knowing what was likely to happen to the Firekkans if their only
defenders left.
Those bird-folks don't have any planetary defenses, any space-based
defenses or interception fleet... they'd be sitting ducks  -
I hope the reinforcements get here soon, he thought grimly. We can't
leave the Firekkans to face the cats alone, but we can't hold this system
by ourselves for much longer, either. We're going to start running out of
missiles very soon, and fighter replacement parts, not to mention what's
going to happen once the Kilrathi really start fighting back and we
begin losing pilots.
He didn't want to think about that. But it's only a matter of time, if we
continue to be so badly outnumbered. How many Kilrathi ships have we
run into in the last week?
He consulted his mental tally. Another Fralthi cruiser. Two Dorkir. A
Snakier carrier. Several corvettes. And lots of enemy fighters.
And the tally was still rising&
It's not a strike fleet, it's a bloody invasion force! Those damned cats!
Well, time to do my part to get rid of them. He pulled on his boots, and
started for the Briefing Room.
As usual, he was late. The Colonel was already at the podium, detailing
the assignments. This time, though, the Colonel didn't pause in his litany
of assignments and patrol routes to chastise Hunter as he always did. He'd
lost count of the number of times he'd heard the Colonel's sardonic "So
glad you decided to join us, Captain St. John" comments.
He slid into an empty seat next to Knight, listening as the Colonel
assigned the patrols.
"Gamma Wing is Angel and Bossman, they'll patrol the jump point
area. Delta Wing is Spirit and Iceman, flying the wide patrol beyond the
jump points. Epsilon Wing is Hunter and Knight, you'll stay close to the
Claw in the usual defensive patrol. With an unknown number of enemy
ships in this area, we can't risk any Kilrathi fighters getting close to the
carrier."
"Babysitting duty again," Hunter whispered to Knight.
"Remember, you'll be back on duty again in four hour shifts," the
Colonel continued. "Get as much sleep as you can between flights.
Dismissed." The assembled pilots rose to their feet as the Colonel left the
podium, starting for the flight deck.
"I think we got the defensive patrol because of you," Joe said as they
walked to the flight deck, too tired to sprint the way they had a few short
weeks ago.
Hunter gave him a puzzled look. "Because of me? Why's that?"
"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror yet?" Joe asked, a little
grimly.
He didn't want to think about how he looked. Really, it was no worse
than anyone else. "I'll be fine with another cup of coffee," Hunter
muttered.
The flight deck was already busy; two Hornet fighters took off, one after
the other, as Hunter mustered up a tired trot to his fighter. A tech was
under the Rapier, invisible except for a pair of booted legs sticking out
from beneath the wing. "Good morning, Jimmy," Hunter called, forcing
himself to sound cheerful.
The face that emerged from under the ship was definitely not Jimmy's,
or male. She was a pixie-faced young woman with short red hair and
smudges of grease on her face. 'Jimmy's not here, sir."
"And who might you be?" One hell of a cute lady, that's who, Hunter
thought, hiding his delighted smile. He was never too tired for an
attractive lady, after all.
"I'm Janet McCullough, a new technician on the Austin, sir. But, please,
call me 'Sparks.' Everyone does." She was so cheerful she sparkled; a
much-needed dose of good humor among all the exhaustion. "Jimmy's
been working on the Ras Nik'hra for a few days. They're supposed to take
the Fralthi to Confed High Command tomorrow, and they needed Jimmy
to doublecheck some of the ship systems."
Hunter didn't mind dallying, a little this was information the rest of
the crew would be interested to hear. "So they're finally taking that
tugboat back to Sol Station?"
She nodded. "That's what I've heard, sir."
But that left some "loose ends" unaccounted for. Some very hairy loose
ends, one of which seemed determined to attach himself to Hunter. "What
about the Kilrathi that we took off the ship?"
Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Most of them have already been taken
out-system. I think the only ones that are left on the Claw are the two
cooperative guys. They're still here, but under guard, of course."
"Right." The grizzled old Captain and the young Kilrathi. What was
his name? Kirha, that's right. The one that was given to me as a gift.
Some gift. Now I know how the old Rajahs felt when they got those while
elephants. 'Course, this time the elephant knew what was going to
happen to him. Hunter repressed a grin, remembering the shocked look
on the young Kilrathi's face. Well, he's not my problem anymore. Taking
care of all of his friends out there who're trying to invade our system,
that's my problem now. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]