calling for an end to hostilities through the surrender of the Third Fleet. The closing comment came from President Quinson, a wonderfully crude response, delivered before a packed Senate meeting, and as he said the words the Senate came to its feet, roaring their support.
'I actually rather like Quinson,' Kruger said, turning the screen off. 'Too bad he's going to get his ass kicked.'
'At least he'll go down fighting.'
'A gallant gesture but useless in the end,' Kruger said quietly.
Jason spared a look over at the holo tactical display.
'The Cats have pulled back?'
'Into the next system already. I've got a squadron of destroyers in pursuit. They're circled around the crippled carrier like a wolf pack defending its pups. Just what I wanted, they're shaken and are afraid of losing a second carrier.
'Now what?'
'Ah, what you came to hear.'
Jason nodded.
'Stay here. The bastards will be back. We know where seven of their old carriers are now, rather six, thanks to the kill your pilots helped put in. That still leaves at least ten unaccounted for. They might hit us from another direction at any moment.'
Kruger paused and looked up at Jason.
'Go on, I'm expecting to hear it. Even old Richards on that frigate I gave him is mumbling about it.'
'Head for Sirius or Earth. Look, I'll admit when I first got here I didn't think much of your Landreich fleet and pilots. But by God I'll admit it now, they're the best I've ever seen. Brave to the point of suicidal.'
'Sometimes I even have to ask that,' Kruger replied quietly. 'A trade-off of a couple of lives for many.'
'They might help tip the scale.'
'First of all, action will be joined there by then.'
Jason nodded.
'But it still might be going on and we could help.'
'And while I go running off what about my own people out here? You're proposing that I leave the planets and orbital colonies of my system defenseless and go riding off to help the Confederation? Your Confederation was willing to write us off thirty years back, and they did it again this time. Why the hell should I care?'
'Because the Confederation needs you, needs your leadership and your pilots.'
Kruger snorted with disdain.
'Oh, solidarity of race against the Cats, is that your next pitch?'
'I knew that wouldn't work,' Jason replied. 'But you know damn well that when Earth and the inner worlds fall it's finished. What happened to Warsaw will happen to them. The Kilrathi are on a killing frenzy and they won't stop. They've levered the war up another notch. When they're done in there, they'll come out here and follow you and your people no matter where you flee.'
Kruger said nothing, as if having heard the argument too many times before.
'So you won't go?'
'You guessed it.'
'Will you release me and my people, give us at least Tarawa to head back?'
'No.'
Jason had already calculated the chance of doing a Kruger on Kruger, of hijacking his carrier out of the fleet and knew it was impossible and useless. Nearly all the pilots and over half his crew were Landreich. Kruger had shrewdly made sure that none of the carriers had a majority of Confederation crews on board.
'You just can t forgive, can you?' Jason asked coldly. 'Thirty years ago the Confederation made a mistake and I'd admit you made the right move in response. You know enough about me to know I did the same thing. I led a mutiny against an officer who ordered us to murder Kilrathi civilians and it would have destroyed my career if it hadn't been for Admiral Tolwyn.
'I went through hell because of that, but I never blamed the Confederation. I blamed the bastard who forced me to mutiny. For thirty years you ve been carrying a grudge and because of your damned stupid blind pride you'll condemn humanity to death.
'I'm not going to mutiny against you, Kruger, but when the Kilrathi finish with you, if I'm still alive, I'll spit on whatever is left of you.'
Without waiting for a reply Jason Bondarevsky stormed out of President Kruger's office.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The two inhabited worlds of Sirius glimmered in the aft screen, showing themselves as two pale green points of light in the middle of the holo display of the system. Geoff jacked up the magnification level of the holo and the further of the two planets disappeared. On the far side of the holo display a nearly solid swarm of red blips were arrayed in five large clusters. Hundreds of smaller red lights, Kilrathi strike fighters and interceptors, were moving ahead, coming straight in at his own thin blue line, behind which were positioned four large blue dots. In the middle region of space between the two groups, two V wedges of small blue dots were aiming straight in at the heart of the enemy fleet.
'Strike forces crossing into Kilrathi controlled space,' a voice whispered.
The Combat Information Center, buried in the heart of Concordia was almost like a tomb, encased in a double layering of durasteel, illuminated by soft diffused light and the shimmer of holo displays and flat screens. Outside a battle was raging, in here, where the decisions were being made, the cool professionalism of his staff made it seem almost like an exercise. Yet, as he spared a glance from the holo and looked around the room he could see the grim determination. After retreating through three star systems, and impotently witnessing the annihilation of the worlds he had been forced to abandon, Geoff Tolwyn had finally turned his fleet about. The Battle of Sirius had begun.
'Blue Squadron, this is Lone Wolf. Close it up. Remember, we want the big ones, nothing else, so cover your Broadswords.'
'Lone Wolf, this is Round Top, read me?'
Kevin Tolwyn smiled; it was his old comrade from the Tarawa days.
'Where are you, Chamberlain?'
'Right above you in Broadsword Two off Moskva, so be sure to cover my butt, son, while I win the glory.
'With you all the way, Round Top.'
Kevin tightened the grip on his joystick, his Rapier G jiggling slightly from his nervous hold on the stick. It was certainly the biggest strike group he had ever flown with, more than two hundred and fifty fighters and attack bombers launched from four carriers. The extra fifty heavy strike craft from Saratoga were missed, the carrier still half a system away with a main engine fuel pump acting up. Two hundred and eighty fighters were being held in reserve as protection for the fleet carriers and as a second strike wave.
Kevin looked down at his tactical display. Straight ahead the individual blips of enemy fighters, corvettes, frigates and destroyers had merged into a solid wall of red.
He clicked into a side band to the main fleet communications line. A real time image of Gilead, the second inhabited planet, was being transferred out to the fleet even while the battle was about to be joined.
He was past the point of rage. The planet flickered on his screen, bursts of five hundred megaton thermonuclear warheads, clad with strontium, detonating high up in the atmosphere, destroying yet another world. The image winked off, replaced by his uncle.
'This is Tolwyn. Good luck to all of you and good hunting.'
The image winked off and Kevin smile. Typical Brit understatement.
The forward edge of Rapiers, Raptors, Ferrets and Hornets, running ahead of the attack wave, slammed
