"That's more like it." A mixture of relief and exasperation echoed through Anika's voice.

Tyra glanced again at the sensor scan from the Bragi,but it remained clear. Throughout this "public relations" tour, she had been hoping the pirates that killed Phelan would stage a raid so she could get a shot at revenge. That's stupid. Just the sort of thinking to get me killed.

Tyra keyed her mike. "Thanks, Nik. I'm back. When we hit the Bragi,remind me to give Tviet a lesson in the definition of the word nej."

"Roger."

Tyra saw something new appear on the scanner screen. Four small red triangles appeared at the outer edge of the DropShip's scan. Her combat computer brought the secondary monitor up and started flashing the different silhouettes and performance profiles for all aerospace fighters and shuttlecraft that matched the incoming data. The computer alternated between the Stukaand the Corsairmodels but could not make a final decision.

Tyra touched the icon representing her ship, and the scanning computer shifted back over to her own instrumentation. It cut down the range of the scan, but gave her combat capability which, all of a sudden, seemed a good thing. She keyed her radio to the DropShip's control frequency, but patched her flight's tactical channel into the feed.

"Valkyrie flight here, Bragi.We have four UAC on the screen." She looked at the monitor again. "They're coming in on a vector that might have looked to you like our heat shadows, but I've got them on my instruments. Please confirm."

Tyra increased vector thrust on the right side of her ship, moving it to the left and away from Anika's craft. She watched as one of the four ships following her flight aped her maneuver. Whoever they are, they're good! It takes some tight flying to pass yourself off as the IR shadow of an aerospace fighter traveling through a helium cloud.

Tviet's voice answered Tyra's call, but gone was the cockiness of their earlier communication. "Ah, roger, Valflight. We're getting some jammed transmission from Thule itself.

We don't know what it was, but chances are it has something to do with hostile actions on the planet."

"Roger, Bragi.Do we engage the people on our tails? I have them about a hundred myriameters behind us."

"Negative, Valflight. We are clear to the JumpShip at the nadir point. Just watch them."

Tviet's words came slowly, with pauses between them that told Tyra the controller was getting lots of input from sources other than her ship. She glanced at the auxiliary monitor and saw the four unidentified aerospace craft split formation and pick up speed. Here they come!"Be advised, Bragi,we are under attack and moving to engage. Valkyrie Two form up on me. Three and Four hang together and take the pair vectored at 256 degrees and closing. Luck."

"Skill," countered Ljungquist.

Tyra kicked her thrusters in and vectored their output to pull her through a tight turn that stood her ship on its left wing-tip. While in space she didn't have to worry about friction and air turbulence, but inertia still affected her and her craft. Her flightsuit pressurized itself to prevent blood from draining from her head as she pulled four gees coming around, but she knew that even the suit would not keep her from blacking out if she maneuvered too quickly.

Set on her new course—racing back through the space she had just patrolled—Tyra brought each of her combat systems up. The computer drew a picture of the Shiloneon her primary monitor and illuminated each weapon as it came on line. "Forward long range missile launcher, check," Tyra mumbled to herself. "Forward heavy laser, check. Wingmounted medium lasers, check and check, and aft arc shortrange missile launcher loaded and ready." A red crosshair painted itself on her helmet's faceplate and tracked with her right eye as she looked around. The armrests of her chair slowly rotated ninety degrees, presenting the trigger buttons for all her weapons. Keep the crosshairs on the target, in space or on the sensor display, and poof, it's gone.

Like the ground-pounding BattleMechs, AeroSpace Fighters relied on a holographic display of sensor data. Though 'Mech pilots had only to orient themselves within a twodimensional battlefield, fighter pilots had to deal with enemies in a full three-dimensional theatre. That meant their holographic displays formed a bowl with the area toward which the fighter's nose pointed as the center. When a gold ring flashed around the whole display, it told the pilot that the computer had gotten a lock-on to a target in the aft arc.

Tyra's computer still could not decide if the ships she and Anika were hurtling toward were Corsairsor Stukas,which was disturbing. The Stukawas a heavily armored fighter boasting all the weapons she had, but more of them. The Corsair,while lighter in weapons and armor, had superior handling capabilities that made it an elusive enemy. Still, if I can get into its arc, it's vulnerable.

"Is your computer schizingout on you?" Anika asked, apparently having the same problem with hers.

Tyra tried to answer confidently. "Yeah, something has definitely addled its little silicon brain." She felt a shiver course up her spine. "Figure on Stukasbut pray for Corsairs."

"Roger." Static shot over the open channel for a second, then came Anika's voice again. "What the hell are Davion fighters doing out here? Did I miss a declaration of war? I mean, did Prince Hanse Davion get married again or something?"

Tyra knew that Stukasand Corsairswere key Federated Suns military spacecraft, but something told her that these fighters were not from the Federated Suns. Before she could say anything to Anika, lights blazed to life on her command console. Then came the keening alarm resounding through her cockpit. "I've got a hostile radar lock on me! Juke left high!" Tyra shouted.

She sideslipped her Shiloneright, which jammed her shoulder into the left side of the cockpit. That dropped her fighter directly beneath Anika's craft, with only twenty-five meters between them. As the computer updated its sensor data, painting one image over the other, Tyra boosted thrust to the right vector. The Shilonerocketed off to the left, streaking up beyond where Anika's Shilonehad been while Anika executed a similar move that took her high and to Tyra's right.

The warning lights died. Good. Mixing our silhouettes, then ripping them apart confused it.She punched her right fist against the targeting computer. Why the hell did they get a lock on me and I didn't reciprocate? This is not the time for my computer to go out on me.

She glanced at the auxiliary monitor, dropping the visually guided crosshairs onto the scanning image of the lead enemy craft. In the flick of an eye, she armed her long-range missiles and waited for the dot in the center of the crosshairs to light up, confirming a sensor lock. Instead of the dot, she got a running meter clicking off the distance separating her target from the LRM's effective range. What? They had a lock on me at three times effective range. Who the hell are these guys?

She opened a radio channel. "Valkyrie Three, bogies might have advanced target capability. Advise caution."

She heard the sensor lock sirens blaring through Ljungquist's reply. "Roger. Kinda busy here, Val One." His voice slurred its way through the next sentence as he put his Slayerthrough a high-gee maneuver to shake the lock. "No, dammit. Arrgghh!"