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Thunderbolts rear turret.
Blair turned again at maximum thrust, the G-force pressing him firmly into his
seat. The enemy ship appeared on his HUD again, and he tried to center the
targeting reticule on the fighter despite the Kilrathi pilot's evasive action.
But the other pilot seemed to anticipate his every move, weaving in under him
a second time, unloading a full volley of beams and missiles against the same
weakened spot.
A red light flashed on his console. "
Burn-through, port shield. Armor
damage. Structural fatigue at ten percent
." The computer's flat, unemotional report was incongruous, and Blair didn't
know if he wanted to scream or laugh.
The Kilrathi fighter spun in a tight turn and started another run. "Not this
time, my friend," Blair muttered under his breath.
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The weakness on the port side of the Thunderbolt would be a real danger now;
another good hit in the same area could seriously damage the fighter.
Ironically, it gave Blair an opportunity. There was little doubt as to what
the Kilrathi pilot would do this time. He would be drawn to repeat that same
attack a third time&
Blair initiated a turn before the attack developed, letting his nose swing
down and left. The enemy pilot opened fire, but the shots caught the forward
shields, not the port side. Simultaneously, Blair triggered his own weapons,
and the Kilrathi ship flew right into the firing arc. A pair of missile
launches exhausted Blair's stocks, but they were sufficient.
The pilot had time for one last transmission before the end. "
There must be& something more
. . .
than Death without end
& "
And then the fighter was gone.
Flight Deck. TCS Victory
Locanda System
Blair scrambled from the cockpit as soon as the environmental systems in the
hangar were restored, brushing past the technicians and ignoring
Rachel's grinning "Looks like you took a real pounding out there"
comment. Seething, he crossed to Flint's fighter and waited for the woman to
come down.
By the time he'd dealt with the Darket, Flint had already engaged the fleeing
ship. She had dealt with it quickly and competently, taking none of the damage
Blair had suffered in his engagement. Her target had turned into expanding
gases in a matter of seconds.
Before Blair could read her the riot act, though, the shuttle had returned,
and the sensors registered the approach of the four Hellcats on the return leg
of their patrol. He refused to dress down another pilot over an open channel.
But all the way back, his anger had been building. Flint
had blown their best chance to track the enemy.
She let go of the ladder halfway down and dropped to the deck beside him,
pulling off her flight helmet to reveal a grin. "Score's twenty now, Colonel,"
she said. "Davie'll have his escort soon enough."
"Only if you're flying, Lieutenant," he said, his voice low but harsh.
"And I'm not sure how long that's going to be, after what I saw out there
today."
"But "
"You talk when I say you can talk, Lieutenant," he cut her off. "First you
listen. I gave you a direct order to stay on my wing when I engaged that
second Darket. Instead, you went charging after the other one. I expect that
kind of attitude from Maniac or even a rookie like Flash but not from the
pilot I pick as my wingman."
"But, Colonel, you didn't need me to deal with a Darket," she protested,
looking stricken, "and I was able to make it a clean sweep."
"A clean sweep," he repeated. "That's what it was, all right. Of course, if
there had been one survivor running for cover we might have been able to lie
back at extreme sensor range and track him back to his mother ship.
Maybe we'd find the whole damned Kilrathi fleet. But a clean sweep&
that's certainly worth passing up a result like that for, isn't it?"
She took a step back. "Oh, God& Colonel, I never thought& "
"No, you didn't," he said. "You never thought. Well, Lieutenant, think about
this
. Intelligence thinks the cats are planning an all-out attack on
Locanda Four, not just a raid but something big and nasty. And if we don't
find their fleet and pinpoint it pretty damned soon they will have a clear
shot. So when your pretty purple skies are filled with Kilrathi missiles, you
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think about whether we could have nailed them today if you had just obeyed
orders instead of playing your little revenge game."
She looked down. "I& I don't know what to say, sir," she said slowly.
"I'm sorry. Were you serious& about yanking my flight status, I mean?"
He didn't answer right away. "I don't want to," Blair finally told her.
"You're a damned good pilot, Flint, and you know how to make that
Thunderbolt dance. But I told you before that I need a wingman I can
trust." He paused. "Consider this a final warning. You screw up again, Flint,
and I'll have your wings. You get me?"
"Yes, sir." She met his angry eyes. "And& thanks, Colonel, for giving me a
second chance."
As she turned and walked slowly away, Blair hoped he wouldn't regret the
decision later.
CHAPTER XI
Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory
Locanda System
Blair paused at the entrance to the rec room and glanced around. This evening
the lounge was fairly busy, the Gold Squadron particularly well represented.
Vagabond, Maniac, Beast Jaeger, and Blue Squadron's
Amazon Mbuto were playing cards. Judging from the stack of chips in front of
Lieutenant Chang, he was ahead. Vaquero was alone at another table with
headphones over his ears, his eyes closed, and his hands tapping out a beat as
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