Melek began to wish he had never accepted the post as Thrakhath's chee'dyachee. As senior vassal and retainer to the Crown Prince, he wielded great power and commanded much influence . . . and was perfectly placed to watch the Imperial family in the interests of his own Clan. But it was a precarious perch at best, given the Prince's temper, and sometimes it was difficult to restrain himself from voicing the doubts he could not put aside.

He became aware that the Crown Prince was still eyeing him with an almost predatory look.

"You seem . . . distracted, Melek," Thrakhath said. "Is there some problem?"

"No, Lord Prince," he replied. "No problem. I was merely . . . awaiting your instructions now that the Terrans have set their new course.

"The plan remains as I outlined it earlier. Now that they have been frightened by our power over the jump points, we will allow them to escape through the Delius point. Order the ships there to drop the Mask and proceed toward the Caliban jump point, as if to reinforce our squadron there after the Terran attack. If they can punish the carrier along the way, they may do so, but remember that the vessel must escape, both to carry word of our new weapon to their leaders and to preserve . . . our other asset. Understood?"

"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek bowed again and withdrew, thankful the audience was over.

"We've got company, Colonel. Looks like a destroyer, with at least two fighters on escort. Feeding you the coordinates now . . ."

The information scrolled across Blair's monitor before Rollins finished speaking. The Kilrathi ship was ahead and to port of Victory, and from its heading was returning from the Delius jump point. The cats were either reinforcing their first squadron or throwing out a net to intercept the Terrans.

In either case, the destroyer could be trouble. There were two fighters flying close by, Vaktoth by the look of their sensor signatures. They could complicate any attempt to deal with the bigger ship.

Blair wished he still had some of the Longbows available, but Gold Squadron was the only fighter force that had not landed on the flight deck and started securing for jump. It was up to the six Thunderbolts to do what they could to protect the carrier.

"Gold Squadron, this is Leader," Blair said. "Tally-ho!" It was the age-old pilot's cry that the enemy was in sight, dating back to the days before spaceflight. "Follow me in, people!"

He kicked in his afterburners and steered the fighter toward the Kilrathi targets, the rest of the squadron trailing him. Blair checked his weapons status and armed blasters and heat-seeking missiles. He and Cobra had engaged in the least amount of fighting at the first jump point, their ships with the least damage and the most reloads available. That made them the best candidates for taking on the destroyer. But it was essential that they get some reliable protection from the enemy fighters.

"Hobbes, Vagabond, you two keep those Vaktoth off our backs," he ordered. "The rest of us are hunting the big cat this time. Understood?"

"We are complying," Hobbes said calmly.

"Just let me at them," Maniac said. He sounded a little less nervous now, as if the prospect of a stand-up fight helped steady him after the shock of having the jump point vanish. Blair hoped he would keep his head.

"Lead the way, Colonel," Cobra added a moment later. She sounded professional, but a little grim.

He reduced his speed and allowed Hobbes and Vagabond to accelerate past the rest of the squadron, diving in toward the enemy formation. Hobbes screamed a Kilrathi challenge as the two fighters closed with their opposite numbers, and that seemed to unnerve the Vaktoth pilots. Both enemy fighters circled away, evading rather than offering battle — unusual for the Kilrathi. Perhaps these were inexperienced flyers, Blair told himself. But was it significant that they were running from Hobbes again . . . ?

He forced the thought from his mind and concentrated instead on the destroyer. It loomed ahead, all menacing points and angles, an asymmetrical, four-pronged dagger aimed at Victory.

"Let's rock!" Maniac called, accelerating suddenly to full speed and diving toward the destroyer, all guns firing wildly. Flash was right behind him. The destroyer's main batteries opened up, driving bolt after bolt of raw energy at the fast-moving Terran ships. Somehow neither Terran fighter was hit, but their blasters battered the destroyer's shields. There was a ripple of explosions as Flash dumped three missiles in quick succession. None penetrated the shields, but Blair's scanners showed the enemy defenses weakening.

Blair killed his momentum, bringing the fighter practically to a dead stop. It was a risky move so close to a capital ship, but with Maniac and Flash doing such a good job of drawing the enemy's attention it was too good a chance to miss. Now the destroyer was lumbering toward him, a nice, steady target. If he could just get in enough good shots at the weakened section of the shielding . . .

He opened fire with his blasters, squeezing off shot after shot until his power reserves were exhausted and the guns shut down until their generators could recycle and bring them back up to full power. The Kilrathi shields still held. It was only then that he realized that Cobra had emulated his move. Her ship was a bare thirty meters off his wing, and now her blasters focused on the same narrow target area as Blair.

The enemy ship's shields failed, and Blair gave a wolfish grin. His blasters came back on-line, and he started firing again. This time the shots were taking off armor, chipping away ever closer to the vulnerable hull of the destroyer. The enemy captain must have recognized his danger by this time, but Maniac and Flash were still closer, still weaving in and out and raking the big ship with sustained if less concentrated fire. Automatic shipboard defense systems would naturally try to track and destroy the nearer threats first, and crewed guns took time to realign on new targets . . .

Blair's blasters ran down a second time, and he switched to a salvo of missiles. Cobra launched at almost the same moment. "Let's get moving, Lieutenant," Blair said, starting up his engines again. He was just beginning to accelerate to full speed when a blast from one of the destroyers main guns caught his port-side shield, knocking it down and ripping into the wing armor in one blow. Then he was clear of the danger and turned quickly to place some distance between his Thunderbolt and the Kilrathi ship.

The missiles began to detonate, tearing through the last of the armor and deep into the bowels of the capital ship. It almost seemed to shudder before it finally tore itself apart.

"Ye-es!" That was Maniac, exultant. "Scratch one great big kitty!"

"Good shooting, Colonel," Cobra added.

"Good shooting, all," Blair corrected. "That one was a team effort. Now let's see if Hobbes and Vagabond need any help cleaning up their little mess.

One of the Vaktoth was running, the other was heavily engaged with Vagabond's Thunderbolt. By the time the rest of Gold Squadron was in range, Hobbes had already come to the aid of his wingman and sent the heavy fighter off to join the shattered destroyer.

"What's your status, people?" Blair asked, calling up his own combat data. He couldn't afford to take another hit on his port side, and he was down to only a single missile. Another serious fight would probably be too much for his battered Thunderbolt to handle.

"Damage is minimal, Colonel," Cobra reported. "But I'm out of missiles, and my fuel reserves aren't looking good."

"I, too, am out of missiles," Hobbes said. "And my forward armor is badly damaged."