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who had disappeared under the wing again.
"Just& another few minutes& sir!" came her voice from underneath. "I
need to tighten& the fuel intake to this engine& "
"Take your time, sweetheart," Hunter said, leaning against the side of
the fighter. After all, the longer she took, the shorter the amount of time
he'd have to spend strapped in. Could be the Colonel didn't reckon on how
much down-time these Rapiers need. "Say, you wouldn't happen to like
listening to live jazz music, would you?"
Her voice came out from under the fighter with a kind of muffled
quality to it. "I've heard Lieutenant Colson play several times, if that's
what you're asking, sir. He's quite good."
A most excellent opening. And Hunter was going to take full advantage
of it. "Yes, he is. Well, I was wondering..."
"Hunter! What's taking so long? I'm waiting to launch!" Joe Khumalo's
voice boomed out over the flight deck PA. Everyone on the Deck stopped
working and looked up. A moment later, Khumalo's voice continued, "Oh,
this is set to the loudspeaker frequency? Sorry about that, let me switch it
to& "
"Your ship's ready for launch, sir," Sparks said, scrambling to her feet
and saluting him smartly. She was flushed, and Hunter thought that her
color was due as much to embarrassment as to exertion.
Well, there went his chances, right down the old tube.
"Thanks, Sparks," Hunter said, and sighed. "Great timing, Joe," he
muttered, climbing up into the cockpit.
Five minutes later, he was floating free in space, gently working the
controls to bring his fighter up on Knight's wing. The Tiger's Claw floated
beside them, huge and imposing against the starfield and the silhouetted
planet of Firekka. Just beyond the Tiger's Claw was the Ras Nik'hra, the
captured Fralthi.
"What was taking so long on the Deck?" Knight asked, his voice a little
tinny over the comlink.
"You're a married man, Joe," Hunter said, wondering if he could
somehow track the girl down again, and then wondering if he'd have any
time to spare for her even if he did. "You wouldn't understand. So, what's
our patrol coordinates?"
Knight kept his curiosity if he had any to himself. "Five thousand
klicks out, a diamond configuration. It shouldn't take us more than an
hour."
"Good," Hunter said, yawning. "Then I'm going to set my Nav computer
and put this on Autopilot. Wake me up if anything interesting happens,
okay?"
Joe sounded aghast. "Hunter!"
Couldn't the guy tell a joke when he heard one? "All right, mate, just
kidding." Did he really think I'd even consider flaking out like that?
"Setting first Nav coordinate, AutoNav on your mark?"
Knight was right back to business. "Affirmative. Two& one& mark!"
The two fighters banked simultaneously, cruising in the direction of
Nav 1.
An hour later, Hunter was more bored than he'd ever been in his life.
Aside from a few minutes of conversation and bad dirty jokes with the
Deck Officer of the TCS Austin, as their patrol path brought them within
sight of the smaller Gettysburg-class ship, the patrol was totally
uneventful. Totally boring, Hunter thought. I probably could have taken
a nap.
As if Knight had heard the thought, he came on-line with a crackle of
static. "You need to be more serious about your job, Hunter," Joe said, as
they dropped out of AutoNav, within sight of the Tiger's Claw. "Life isn't
all jokes and beer, you know."
Be gentle on him; he's probably hoping for a promotion. "It's been that
way for me so far, mate," Hunter grinned, as if he took Joe's reproachful
attitude as yet another joke, then switching his vidscreen to the Tiger's
Claw channel. "Tiger's Claw, we are requesting permission to land."
"Affirmative, you are clear to land," the Deck Officer reported a
moment later.
"After you, Joe," Hunter said. He sat back and watched as Knight's
fighter turned smoothly into the final approach, gliding down into the
Deck.
"Hunter, you are cleared to land," the Deck Officer repeated a moment
later, obviously expecting Hunter to follow Knight down onto the Deck.
Little did they know& "Negative on that, Tiger's Claw, your signal is
breaking up. Communications malfunction, I can't quite hear you. What
were those new orders?"
"Hunter, bring that fighter down right now!" The Deck Officer sounded
suspicious. Well, he should be. Especially if he knew Hunter by reputation.
He tried to keep a straight face, knowing that the Deck Officer could
see him very well, even if a supposed malfunction made it impossible for
him to hear the D.O. "Affirmative, Tiger's Claw, now proceeding with new
orders." He brought the throttle up and tilted the fighter on a new course,
a direct route to the floating Ras Nik'hra.
It's even bigger than I remember, he thought, maneuvering for final
approach on the odd circular-shaped landing bay. He brought his speed
all the way down, but miscalculated on his angle of approach, and
bounced once off the deck as he brought the fighter to a complete stop
within the Fralthi's bay.
The vidscreen still had the D.O. squawking angry orders at him as
Hunter climbed out of the fighter, looking around the deck. He recognized
a thin space-suited figure standing on the wing of a Dralthi fighter,
looking down at an open panel. He switched on his suit's radio. "Hey,
Jimmy!"
The young technician looked up, and saw Hunter. "Hunter?"
Hunter walked up to the Dralthi. 'Just wanted to see how things were
going for you. And get a last look at this Fralthi before they take it away.
Say, that's one of the new Dralthi, isn't it?"
Jimmy nodded, the helmet of his suit bobbing slightly. "Yes, it's what
we're calling a Dralthi Mark Two. It has a new weapons system, better
armor, and a few other improvements." His voice brightened as he began
describing the differences; Jimmy was a techno-junkie, for certain, and
like all techies, he loved talking about gadgets and widgetry. "It's a lot
better than the first model of Dralthi, not quite so likely to have that
power overload problem the first time the shields get pounded a little too
hard. That's why the older version of these fighters was so easy to kill,
three or four direct hits would overload the shield generator."
"That's good to know," Hunter observed, looking at the parked fighter.
Good to know, hell. It might save our lives. Why doesn't anyone ever see
that the pilots get info like this? "I wonder how well these old girls fly?"
"I've sat in the cockpit, but haven't turned on the engines," Jimmy said.
"The visibility isn't so great, and the controls are a little weird, but I think
it'd fly pretty well. The wing stabilizers are kinda neat, they're "
"Good," Hunter interrupted, climbing up onto the wing next to Jimmy.
"How do you get into the cockpit?"
"Actually, you climb in from below," Jimmy said, frowning slightly.
"The top of the cockpit doesn't pop off the way ours do, in fact it doesn't
seem to have an ejection system, either. That'd be awful, to be trapped in
a dying fighter with no way to get out."
"I guess the cats don't care much about that," Hunter said, jumping
down from the wing and looking underneath the belly of the ship. "Well,
Jimmy, I think I'm just going to have to take this Dralthi for a test drive.
Better stand clear."
Even through the helmet faceplate, Hunter could see Jimmy's eyes
widen. "But, sir " he protested.
Hunter ignored him, popped the bottom hatch and crawled up into the
fighter. This is a peculiar way to do things, he thought, climbing up into [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]