Chang accepted the deck from Blair and started to deal again. Though he was still smiling, there was a troubled look in his eyes. "This mission . . . you know there are stories going around about some superweapon. That's why we're supposed to be running recon.

"You know, Lieutenant, that if the info wasn't officially released then I can't comment on it one way or the other," Blair said quietly. "Rumors are just that-rumors. Even if I knew anything, I couldn't talk about it."

"Yeah, I know." Vagabond looked at his hand for a moment, then laid it on the table. "Look, Colonel, I know you can't spill any secrets, but the stuff I've been hearing . . . it really bugs me."

"How so?" Blair asked. He laid his own cards aside and met Chang's level gaze.

"Word is this weapon, whatever it is, will scorch a whole damned planet. A strategic weapon, I guess the brass would call it. And I'm not sure I want to be part of something like that."

"Conscience bothering you, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah, it is, Colonel. I didn't sign on to be part of something that kills civilians, whether they're people or cats or something slimy living under the rocks on Alphacent." Vagabond looked down at the table. "Some folks take the war real personal, like Cobra and Flint. But that's not me. When I wax somebody out on the firing line. I like to think it's a fair fight. That he's got an equal chance to nail me. Pretty stupid, I guess, but that's the way it is."

Blair nodded, understanding. He shared Vagabond's doubts. "Fact is, I understand you a lot better than I'll ever understand Cobra or Flint. The last thing you need in the cockpit with you is hate. And I think you really have to hate before you could go along with something as horrible as wasting an entire planet, civilians and all." He hesitated. "Look, secrets aside . . . if you've heard the rumors right, we're scouting for this new weapon, right?"

Vagabond nodded.

"All right, then, we're surveying a planet we know has nothing but a military installation on it. No colony. No civilians, or at least none who aren't involved in base operations somehow. Seems to me if there is a superweapon, HQ must figure on aiming at a military target."

"Maybe so," Chang said, nodding but still looking uncharacteristically serious. "Maybe so." He paused "Still it bothers me a little. I mean, maybe they'd start with a base like this. But where does it end? HQ's got a real bad habit of labeling every target a military installation, even when they're not. So, what if we cross the line later?"

Blair looked away, uncomfortable. He was thinking of Kevin Tolwyn's comments about Kilrah, and about the Covert Ops plan that apparently could only be used against the enemy homeworld. If the Kilrathi didn't comply with the threat posed by the Behemoth, where would HQ draw the line?

And, more importantly, where would he stand if the next target did include large numbers of civilians? Just how badly did he want this war to end?

He looked back at Vagabond. "Hey, we're the good guys, remember?" he said, forcing a smile. "We don't kill the innocents. That's supposed to be the difference between us and them, you know? Inwardly he felt like a hypocrite, but he couldn't admit his own doubts to Chang without confirming the stories about the mission.

The Chinese pilot touched the deck with one slender finger. "Well, Colonel, the way I figure it, it's a lot like cards. A lot of people never think to cut the deck before they see what they're getting dealt."

"Colonel Blair to Flight Control! Colonel Blair to Flight Control! Urgent!"

Blair flung down the PDP he was studying and swung his feet out of the bunk This was not a General Quarters alarm, but the voice on the intercom — Flint's voice — sounded worried. A sinking feeling gripped his stomach. Vaquero and Flash were on survey duty tonight.

With the Wing already short-handed and Flint still grounded, Blair had been forced to rotate wingman assignments frequently since the Ariel operation began. That meant he couldn't always keep Flash under the watchful eyes of Hobbes or himself any more. And Vaquero, experienced as he might have been, was what pilots referred to as an "RV," a Recon Virgin, someone who had never conducted behind-the-lines reconnaissance missions. The combination was potentially explosive, but Blair had simply run out of options.

He forgot his usual rule about not running and raced down the corridor to the lift, hoping he was wrong. If Flash and Vaquero had run into trouble out there, it would be his fault for letting the two of them team up. . . .

Flight Control was fully manned, and the tense atmosphere that met Blair as the doors slid open for him did nothing to calm his fears. Flint had the duty as Officer of the Watch, her suspended flight status leaving her plenty of time to serve in such shipboard wing duties.

"What have you got?" he asked crisply, joining her at the Duty Officer's command console.

"Trouble, sir," Flint said "Flash and Vaquero were on their way back in when they read a bogie on their short-range scanners, and Major Dillon decided they should check it out. He ordered Vaquero to back him up before we could countermand the orders from here, and since they were already right on top of the Kilrathi . . ."

"Any idea what they're up against?"

"At least six Dralthi, Colonel," Flint told him. "But Vaquero reported he was getting some other readings that might have been something bigger, a whole lot bigger."

"Christ," Blair muttered. "Probably a transport . . . but it might be a cap ship under fighter escort. How're they doing so far?"

"Holding their own, but they haven't been able to obey recall and break away. The Dralthi keep swarming them." Flint looked apologetic. "We didn't want to commit the ready alert birds without your say-so, Colonel. The standing orders are to avoid a fight. ''

"Yeah, I know. I helped draft them, remember?" Blair realized his tone had been sharper than he'd intended. "You did well, Lieutenant. Okay, who's on ready alert?"

"Maniac and Vagabond," Flint said. "They're in their fighters and ready to launch."

"Good. Launch immediately, then. But tell the flight crew to get two more Thunderbolts ready for launch."

"Who's on deck, Colonel?" There was a faint light of hope in her eyes.

"I'll take one. Call Hobbes to fly wingman with me." He saw her face fall, disappointed. "I know you want back on the roster, Flint, but I don't have time to discuss it tonight. Call out Hobbes. I'll be in the ready room suiting up. Put through a call to the captain and route it to me there. He'll have to know what we're getting into."

"Aye, aye, sir," she said, voice flat.

He had his flight suit on and was wrestling with his boots when a vid screen came to life on one wall of the Gold Squadron ready room. Eisen looked like he'd been asleep. "They tell me you have a situation, Colonel," he said.

"We certainly do, sir," Blair told him. "Two of my pilots ran into a Kilrathi flight and have become heavily engaged. I've got two more on the way to back them up, and Hobbes and I are joining the party as soon as our fighters are prepped." Hobbes came into the ready room as he spoke and crossed to his locker.

"That's a pretty strong response, Colonel," Eisen said quietly. "Just how many Kilrathi did your people run into out there, anyway?"

"That's not clear yet, sir," Blair said. "That's why I'm flying the extra cover. There could be a cap ship involved, too. We're not sure yet."

"Damned sensor clutter," Eisen said, nodding. "Well I guess all good things must come to an end. After all this, the furballs won't be letting us sneak around any more. We'll have to hope we've got all the data HQ wants, because I'm ordering a withdrawal to the jump point ASAP."