The pilot's name was Raoul da Silva, and he'd long dreamed of being a great AeroSpace Fighter ace among House Kurita's legions. The fact that he hadn't yet scored his first kill had never dimmed that dream. Now, though, the possibility that he might die over Verthandi without ever knowing victory in ship-to-ship combat filled him with an infinite sense of loss and loneliness. He had killed before, but somehow the helpless rebel vehicles, the village buildings, the streaming rabble fleeing from burning Verthandian towns had never seemed more than impersonal targets, like holographic shadows in a flight combat simulator. What Raoul had dreamed of was the glory of fighter pilot facing fighter pilot, two keen minds in deadly contest

His ship was ruined and would not make atmosphere again, of that Raoul was certain. If the intruders could be destroyed, there was still a good chance his comrades could rescue him. Once the intruder DropShip was dead, the nearby Xaowould mount a search for survivors. Unless Raoul could take the enemy out now, he would drift forever in a metal tomb, growing colder and colder. His last hours would become a contest between cold and suffocation for the privilege of ending Raoul's short life.

Providence had arranged that he could still strike back. If luck was with him, he might yet kill one of the intruder fighters, and might even survive to fight again another day.... If luck was not with him, he would die, but knowing he had scored at least one kill, man-to-man.

He made a minute adjustment His Slayerrolled slightly, long shadows from torn metal falling across the curved armor of the ship's nose. The Chippewawas less than a kilometer away, large in his HUD crosshairs. Raoul's hand closed on the firing switch. All five forward-mounted lasers triggered in a salvo that sliced through the Chippewa'sarmor like hot wires through butter. The Combine pilot added his autocannon to the barrage, a steady stream of explosive shells shredding the control and port wing surfaces of the stricken enemy craft.

Raoul's lips were drawn back from his teeth in a fierce, berserker's grin, his yell of triumph deafening inside the confines of the Slayer'scockpit.

* * * *

Sue Ellen Klein's victory shout became a wail of anguish. Her Chippewa'shull creaked protest as she piled on Gs in an attempt to change course, to kill her own velocity and swing into a new intercept vector. Jeff was maneuvering, too, his drive flaring against the trailing cloud of debris from his ship's wounds. The target fell into the crosshairs, still firing, savaging Jeffs Chippewawith repeated hits.

Missiles lanced across space. One struck the Slayersquarely just behind its cockpit. Transplast melted in star-surface heat. The Slayerbegan tumbling, broken pieces of instrumentation and armor trailing from the gaping wound of the stricken ship's cockpit. Also tumbling was Jeff's Chippewa,moving outbound, away from Verthandi. It took Sue Ellen a few precious minutes to close with Jeff's ship, matching course and speed.

What she saw sickened her. The Chippewa'scockpit appeared intact, but the portside wing was nearly torn away. The starboard wing was holed in five places, and most of Jeffs stabilizer had been torn away. A spaghetti tangle of conduit tubing and wiring, hydraulic piping, and shredded armor plate trailed after the fighter, creating a ghastly image of disembowelment. A ring of dust-fine debris, water vapor, and leaking atmosphere condensing and freezing in the vacuum of space expanded outward from the wreckage. She knew that ship would never make a controlled entry into atmosphere again.

Her maneuver had taken her out of the direct line between the Phobosand the Slayers.All three surviving SL-15s seemed to be ignoring her and were closing on the DropShip instead. Frantic now, but dulled by worry and the sudden dwindling of her battle fever, she tried to raise Jeff ship-to-ship.

"I'm here," he said. "I'm O.K...Some leakage, but I'm not hurt too badly, The controls are gone, though and so is the power. The old girl has had it, I'm afraid."

"No! No, Jeff! Blow your hatch! I'll make pick-up!" She began struggling with her harness. The cockpit of the Chippewawas crowded with one. With two, it would be claustrophobic, but at least the two of them would make it back to the Phobos.

There was a long silence before Sherman replied. "I...don't think so, hon. My legs, they're...hurt. Not bad, but...there's...mere's no pain, but my pressure suit is pretty badly torn up down there." There was another pause, and then a sob came across her com channel. "Oh, God, Sue...it's starting to hurt..."

* * * *

"Fire control!" Captain Martinez had to yell to be heard above the roar reverberating through the ship. Her nav screen showed twisted trails of light marking the incoming paths of the Kurita Slayers.Autocannon shells hosed across the Phobos'shull, then-explosions cratering armor and opening savage gashes. "Fire control released to weapons stations! Fire at will!"

Missiles arced into blackness, seeking the glitter of the DropShip's minute attackers. Lasers burned briefly, invisibly, probing those spots where computers linked to the Phobos'sscanners predicted that the three SL-ISs should be. Occasionally, those predictions might be correct

The wing of one Slayerglowed white-hot when the Phobos'sheavy laser struck it. Droplets of molten armor streamed into space, a brief-lived contrail of dancing sparks. All three delta fighters streaked by the Phobosat high speed, lasers carving into the DropShip's hull as they passed. The Phobos'sweapons replied, tracking the fighters, scoring hits, but none were fatal. All three Slayersend-overed, and their drives burned white hot as they decelerated, lining up for another pass.

Martinez turned on Grayson. "We're taking too much damage. Major." She gestured toward the main viewscreen, where Verthandi loomed huge. "Another pass or two by those people and we might not survive re-entry. If we accelerate now, we could outdistance them, maybe loop around the planet and make it back to the zenith point."

Grayson allowed a half smile. "What for? The Invidiousjumped out as soon as she recharged."

"But another starship might jump in..."

"Any ships coming insystem are going to be Combine vessels, Captain...or do you want to go ahead and surrender now?"

"I'm stating options. Major." Martinez dropped her voice so low that Grayson could scarcely hear. "At this point, surrender might not be such a bad idea."

Grayson shook his head. "Plot your course. Captain. Grounding in the Azure Sea, at the coordinates Citizen Erudin gave you. I prefer to take my chances with your piloting than the Combine's mercy."

"Yes, sir."

Martinez had not called him that before. The word sounded strange on her lips.

"Captain!" The com officer looked up from his console. "Captain Martinez! I've got a distress beacon from one of the Chippewas!"

She turned from Grayson. "Damn! Where?"

"Planetward. Close in. I've got voice."

"Put it on speaker."

"Phobos! Phobos!This is Chip One!" Klein's voice was faint, distorted by the hash of static and distance. "Come in, Phobos!"

Martinez picked up a mike from her console. "Phoboshere."

"Phobos!Jeffs been hit! Home on the beacon transmission and pick us up! If you can manage rendezvous, we can save him!"

Martinez looked at Grayson, eyebrows raised, the skin taunt under the blue wing tatoos.