The computer brought the light level up. Under the illumination, the lieutenant's expression was bleak.
'Don't borrow trouble, Vagabond,' Blair said quietly. 'I know how you feel . . . this mess is getting to all of us. But we've all got to get a grip. Bounce back.'
'The cliche of the week,' Chang said. He pointed to one of the lockers on the far wall. 'That one's Vaquero's. Was Vaquero's.' The Chinese pilot paused. 'He was a good roommate. And a good wingman, for a kid.'
Blair nodded and crossed to the locker, opening it with a security magnakey that overrode Vaquero's lock. It was crowded and untidy. Evidently Mitchell Lopez had managed to accumulate a fair number of possessions in the short time he'd been aboard Victory.
'Tell me this much, Colonel,' Vagabond said from behind him. 'Rumor mill says we've got a shot at the cats after all, even after Behemoth. Is it true?'
Blair looked at him, nodded. 'Yeah. A shot . . . a pretty damned long one, but a shot.'
'Good.' Chang gave a curt nod. 'Good. Because I want a piece of the bastards.'
'Are you sure? You were the one who had doubts about Behemoth, as I recall. And the new mission's also designed to knock out Kilrah. No ifs, ands, buts, or maybes . . .'
Vagabond shrugged. 'I'm past caring about it now, Colonel. Damn it, the kid didn't have to die like that. He was going to retire, open his cantina. He had it all planned out, and that bastard Hobbes snuffed him out. And Cobra, too. It's one thing to lose your buddies on the firing line, but this . . . it's just wrong.'
Blair fixed him with a level stare. 'I hear you, Vagabond. I've been there myself, and not just this cruise, either. But you can't let it eat away at you.' He pointed to the locker. 'Do you know how much I hate this ritual? As his CO, I'm the one who has to send the comm to Vaquero s family . . . you know, the one that's supposed to make them feel proud of their son and the way he died. What am I supposed to tell them? That my best friend turned traitor and killed him in a sneak attack? That I might have stopped it if I hadn't been so convinced that Hobbes was one of the good guys?' He shook his head.
Vagabond shrugged and sighed. 'I used to think I could keep myself apart from it, you know? Be the cool professional on duty, and the squadron clown in the rec room. But for the first time, here on Victory, I actually felt like I was starting to put down roots. I made friends, real friends . . . Cobra, Vaquero, Beast Jaeger. Now they're gone, and all I want is to see the end of it all . . . one way or another.'
Blair didn't reply right away. Vagabond's words struck a familiar chord. 'The attack on Kilrah's likely to be a one-way trip, Chang,' he said at last. 'It's supposed to be an all-volunteer run. I was going to encourage you to opt out of it, since you were pretty well set against bombing civilian targets. Now . . . hell, I don't have enough pilots in Gold Squadron as it is. If you really want in, I'll be glad to have you there. But if you're not sure, speak up now. So I can try to get someone else checked out on the Excalibur from one of the other outfits.'
Vagabond shook his head. 'Don't bother. I'm in.'
'It's nice to know you can count on . . . people.' Blair turned back to the locker, saw Vaquero's prized old guitar. He picked it up, ran his fingers over each string. 'His family will want this, I suppose . . .' he said softly. Then, with another flash of anger, he went on. 'It just isn't fair, Chang. That kid should never have been a pilot.'
'But he was,' Vagabond told him. 'A good one, too. We're all going to miss him, before this thing is over.'
Together, they emptied out the locker and packed Vaquero's gear in the cargo module. When it was done, Blair tagged it and left it outside the door for a work detail to pick up later. He fetched a second module from a storeroom nearby and headed for his last stop. He knew this one would be the most difficult of all.
Cobra had shared her quarters with Flint, and the lieutenant opened the door at Blair's signal. She saw the cargo module and nodded. 'Cobra's stuff, huh?'
'Yeah.' He followed her in. 'Er . . . you knew her pretty well, didn't you?'
'As well as anyone, I guess,' she said. 'Laurel didn't make a lot of friends.'
'I guess not.' Blair looked away. 'Fact is, I'm supposed to send her effects to her family, write a note, the usual routine. But I don't even know if she has a family. Her file was pretty thin.'
'We were the only family she had,' Flint said softly.
'I didn't treat her very well, for family,' Blair said, looking away. 'I trusted Hobbes, not her . . .'
'You had your reasons,' she replied. 'Blaming yourself won't change what happened . . . won't bring Cobra back, or Vaquero, either.'
'Maybe you're right. I don't know any more. It seems like every choice I've made, every turn I've taken since I came on board this ship has been wrong. I'm starting to second-guess myself on everything.'
Flint hesitated a moment before responding, her look intent, searching for something in his face. 'Everything? Does that mean your romance with your little grease monkey has fallen through?'
'What's that supposed to mean?' he demanded. He was still feeling bad about breaking his date with Rachel the night before, but under the circumstances he hadn't felt like seeing anyone.
She looked away. 'I just thought . . . you could do a lot better, you know?'
'No, I don't know,' Blair told her. 'Rachel's been a good friend to me . . . more than a friend.' He studied her. 'I know you thought there might be something between you and me. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea about how I felt.'
'Just how do you feel?' she demanded.
'You've been a good friend, too, Flint. Hell, I probably owe you my life, after Delius. And under other circumstances, things might have gone further between us.'
'Other circumstances . . . ?'
'Don't you get it, Flint? Rachel's not a pilot. You are. And after Angel — I just don't think I could handle getting involved with another pilot. Especially one who might end up flying on my wing. 'He paused. 'Truth is, it isn't fair to either one of you, now. When we hit Kilrah, odds are none of us are coming back. So any romance I get into now is strictly short-term.'
'Maybe that's all there is for any of us, now,' Flint said quietly. 'If this next fight goes against us, there won't be time left for anyone.'
Blair nodded. 'That's true enough. Look . . . I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you.'
'I'm grown up,' she told him. 'I can handle rejection. But I don't take kindly to losing out to some mechanic who smells like synlubes and uses grease for make-up.'
He looked away, feeling helpless. 'If it helps any, I doubt she and I are going anywhere, now.'
Flints look was cold. 'Do what you like, flyboy, '' she said. 'Doesn't matter to me. And like you said, this next op's probably going to be the last, right? For all of us.'
'It's a volunteer mission, Flint. You don't have to fly it. Maybe you'd be better off staying with the ship.'
She shook her head. 'You've been telling me not to put my feelings ahead of my duty, and that's just what I'm going to do now. I will be in on the kill, all right. Just try and stop me.' Flint paused. 'But I'll give you a word of warning, Colonel. I may try to keep my personal feelings on a leash, but I don't make any guarantees. And it might not be such a good idea for you to pick a wingman you've just kicked in the teeth. If you take my meaning. . . sir.'
Blair had no answer for that. He left Flint to pack up Cobra's gear, and headed back to his office to think.
Sometimes it was easier to face the enemy than it was to deal with the people he cared about most.
The carrier made the jump from Blackmane to the Freya System, where the High Command ordered the strike force to assemble for the attack that was supposed to cover the raid on Kilrah. Through the viewport in the rec room, Blair could see a few of the ships of the Terran fleet, some close enough to recognize shapes and
