In the midst of a round of seven-card stud between the two 'wings' of Red Knight Squadron, the air-alert klaxon on board the battlecarrier CSS Forestall wailed like a forlorn sea cow.

From the cramped aft-cabin that served as the CO's office, Captain Shaker burst out, slamming the back of the office door against the near bulkhead with a heavy clang. Every last man and woman in the squad bay turned to face him, watching as he listened to the voices broadcasting over his inter-ship headset. At length, he ripped it off and started stomping towards the head of the compartment.

"All right, wing-nuts," he barked, the light from an overhead battlelamp casting its reddish light over his shaven head. "Get to your rigs, double-quick! Flight-Ops spotted a Biran warship as we pulled into this sector, and those cracker-jackers have fighters on the way. So let's move, move, move!"

Before the last 'Move!' had left his lips, twenty pilots and their gunners exploded into motion, grabbing a collection of multi-colored helmets and flight packs from olive-green racks around the room. Boots thundered on blackened deck plates amid hoots of "Good hunting!" and "Get one for me, buddy!" As one they swarmed for the outer hatch leading to the hangar.

Amid the controlled chaos, Shaker's voice sang out again. "Tenkiller! You stand fast!"

Lt. JG James Tenkiller paused before he and his gunner reached the hatch, letting the rest of the Knights scramble out. "Captain?"

"This isn't gonna require a recon sweep, Lieutenant. You're sitting this one out!"

Staring at his CO in shock, James nearly didn't find his voice. "But, they called for all available pilots, sir."

"All that are willing to fight, Lieutenant!" Capt. Shaker's flint-gray eyes fixed on the tan-skinned pilot's face with a glare that could bore through hull metal. "I've warned you about what would happen if you started spreading that 'non-combative' sludge around my boys when I first got assigned to this squadron, and by God, I'm sticking to my promise!"

As James' gunner stood there, Ensign Wanda Strafford protested, "Sir, with all due respect, you can't keep him from fighting, just because of his personal beliefs!"

"And with due respect, I'll remind you to watch your step, Ensign!" The older officer's nostrils flared. "If I want your input I'll ask for it! Is that clear!?"

"Yes, sir," Wanda replied, subdued.

James glanced at his gunner briefly, before turning back to Shaker, letting a little heat seep into his voice. "I've never let my personal beliefs interfere with my duty to the Corps, Captain!"

"Naw!" Sarcasm dripped off of Shaker's every word. "You let it hamstring everything else around you!" When James didn't reply, the bald CO snapped, "Lt. Tenkiller-- God, there's a paradoxed name for you --you're grounded from further operations as of this moment."

"Captain!"

"And when I get back, I'll see to it you get cashiered out of this combat ship so fast... you'll never have the chance to ruin another fighting man's carreer again," Shaker snarled, leaning in close so that he and James were nearly nose to nose. "Just try to go against me on this, Tenkiller. Try! I'll have you busted back down to Private before I'm done with you!"

James held his tongue.

Snatching up his helmet and pack from the rack, Capt. Shaker dashed for the door, pausing long enough to look back at Strafford. "Ensign, get moving and report to FlightOps! You can still operate a gunner's chair. They'll have you on the backup flight, most likely."

Wanda nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I'll see you at the rat race!" Slapping his helmet on, Shaker shot one last look at Tenkiller before he marched out after his own gunner.

The second he was gone, Strafford turned to face her driver. "Jimmy--?"

The bronze-skinned pilot shook his head. "It'll be all right, Wanda."

"No, it won't!" The petite blonde woman scowled, more indignant than angry. "This is the third time he's rounded on you since that incident with Samov!"

James closes his eyes. "Wanda, please..."

"Keeping you grounded because one of the best pilots in the whole Aero Corps left his squadron," she groused. "Well... it's wrong in every sense of the word!"

"What can I do about it? I can't become the combat pilot that he wants, Wanda," James explained.

"But that's no excuse for keeping you out of the flight line. So you don't believe in fighting like everyone else. At least you run recon for us," Wanda pointed out.

"And that makes Shaker madder than ever," James sighed. "I never stay out at point long enough to engage the enemy!"

"Shaker's only really ticked because he was grooming Samov for XO of this flight--."

"And now he's expecting me to take Samov's place," James said, reaching up to the collar of his pressure suit, pulling out a small oval stone on a thong from around his neck. He wore it as a symbol of his faith; an ancient Earth system of non-violence. "It was my fault because Samov was so interested in my beliefs."

"It's still wrong, Jimmy! You shouldn't have to suffer this sort of treatment!"

Pacing the deck while he fingered his fetish, James scowled. "I should be able to stand up for myself! But what can one man do in the face of a CO like Shaker!? Or the whole crew? They're so caught up in this war, they frown on anyone that doesn't believe one-hundred percent in fighting to the last!" He brushed his crew-cut hair with one hand. "Ever since the Birans started this war, it's 'Damn the meek! Only the Strong shall win!'."

"That still doesn't give the Captain the right to ground you during an attack! Even if you don't fight like the rest, the Forestall needs every available man ready to defend her," Wanda stated. A second alert siren blared, making her curse silently. "Look, promise me that you'll at least consider going to the JAG about this when this skirmish is over, okay? Once the truth comes out..."

James shook his head. "I can't promise anything, Wanda. But, I will think about it." He glanced up at the sounds of heavy thumping; the Forestall's heavy cannons were coming into play. "You'd better get going."

Grabbing her own flight kit, she stopped to look at James before she turned to leave. Reaching over, the russet-haired gunner gripped his shoulder meaningfully. "See you when we get back." With that, she was gone.

"If you get back, Wanda…" James sighed, looking at the door to the squad room as it hissed shut. Left alone until the alert was called off, he slowly walked back down the length of the squad bay, listening to the sounds of the ship as the battle began in earnest. "I just wish they could understand," he said aloud. Being a pacifist, something James believed in deeply, was like an anathema in the minds of most combat soldiers.

James flopped down into a nearby couch, staring at the now-empty ward room, his fingers still wrapped around his fetish. It had been a gift from his grandfather, who was among one of the few original charter members of the Epsilon Colony on Mars. Feeling the symbol etched into the smoothed Martian sandstone, he recalled the time leading up to his current situation; just before the Birans declaired war, his brother was all set to join the Corps.

"Back then, sending me off to war was the last thing any of us expected," he told himself bitterly. Duncan didn't hold with James' pacifist beliefs, and he would have made a good soldier... however, because James's brother had a wife and newborn child, that made the older brother exempt from the stipulations of the UMC. Thanks to the 'Unified Mustering Act', however, someone from his family had to take his brother's place. Since James was the only member of the family not married and too old to be counted as underage, he had to fill the boots the Corps had laid out for Duncan.

And they all thought I'd be sent home once the Corps knew that. If they only knew what I was in for…" Every attempt to get into a non-combat unit had been foiled first by his excellent performance in BASICS, then by his natural skills as a pilot. That had earned him a trip to Fighter Combat School, where finishing in the top twenty percentile got him onto the Forestall, one of the top combat ships-of-the-line.

At first he opted to fly recon missions only. This surprised the former CO of the Red Knights, but Commander Holly didn't mind at first. Then, when Jimmy proved to be one of the best recon pilots in the entire ship, it became his permanent posting.

"That changed when Shaker showed up as Holly's replacement," James grumped. "He came in to whip the squadron into a top-notch combat unit. He wanted to turn me into a wing leader, but then he couldn't stomach the fact my beliefs kept me from such an assignment. And while he can blast me for what I believe in, he can't fault Samov for quitting the service to join a monastery on Ceti-Prime."

Jumping to his feet, he scowled at the entrance to the bay. "He takes his frustrations out on me, because I cost him the best combat pilot Shaker's ever seen. And I certainly can't go against him over this grounding, but what can I do? If there's big trouble out there, they'll need everyone that can fly to insure the safety of the ship!"

###

Near the white star of Astra-014- the place where Terran astro-metrics had labeled the region as 'The Crab Cluster' -the black space around the cigar-shaped CSS Forestall was ablaze with a panorama of free protons, energy beams and missile trails. Hits impacted against her thick hullmetal plates, while return fire lanced out against its attackers from it's primaries and secondary defenses. Ten ship-lengths away, a destroyer-classed Biran ship answered the Forestall with its own heavy guns and weapons, and with multiple fighters as well. Between the two behemoths, enough death was being meted out to outstrip nearly every battle of any Old Earth arena you could name.

And here, like in the wars of old, names were being made on the blood of the fallen...

Swooping over a battery of 17cm laser cannons, Red Knight-1 tailed two elliptical-shaped Biran fighters; medium-light class. Pulse-beams from twin 7cm mounts on the Colonial's wings cut over the leftmost ship, stitching it vertically with bursts of hot-orange. It bucked, buckled, then blew apart in a quickly-vanishing cloud of gas and debris.

Capt. Shaker bellowed. "Bowker! Nail the other one!"

The dorsal turret on Shaker's Liberator attack fighter indexed, drawing it's single 5cm swing-laser to point. Crimson lines of death lanced out, slicing the port side wing clean through. Crippled, the Biran ship staggered into a trail of heavy shells from the battlecarrier, ceasing corporeal existence.

"Consider that one toast, boss!"

"Nice, even though the deck-boys finished him off for you!" Cranking his ship around, his pressure suit systems whining to protect him from G-forces, Shaker piped the commlink. "Red-Knight Leader to Red-Knights! Give me a Kill Report!"

The replies came back amid the sounds of near-misses and explosions: "Knight-Seven here! Got three, boss!"

"Six! I have two confirmed, and we're on another one!"

"Knight-Nine! I've got some damage, but two of those Birans won't need a repairman!"

"Red-Knight-Four, boss! Missed a few, but a got one before it rammed home-base!"

"Good going, Knights!" Shaker grinned. " Everyone regroup to Grid 11-7! Pull in for another pass! I want to see some new aces in the squad room tomorrow morning!"

A comm-call chirped over the channel, cutting across the circuit. "Red-Knight-1, this is Camelot Base."

Shaker recognized the level voice of the Flight-Ops officer. "Go ahead, Camelot?"

"We've got some unexpected guests to this party. Main Ops just scanned another Biran battleship dropping out of transit over Astra-014's nadir point. Looks like they're going to try to pin us between her and this bogey we've got engaging us. Break off your flight, and see if you can't buy us time to get turned around to hit them back. We're sending Yellow and Black Flights to support you."

"Understood, but what about those fighters that shadowed Bogey-1?"

"Blue and Gray Flights will cover them for now, and so far our armor is holding better than theirs. Break off, now."

"Roger, Camelot! Well, looks like we get to take on a big one, eh, Bowker?"

The gunner behind Shaker grinned. "Be a feather in our caps if we bagged her, sir!"

"Glad to see your in the right frame of mind, Lt. Bowker!" Shaker switched back to the tactical signal. "Red-Knight Leader to Red-Knights! We've been given the go to take on a big sucker that just popped up behind Camelot. Break off and rendezvous at Grid-22-mark-3, and head for Astra-014/nadir!"

As a chorus of affirmatives came back, Shaker aimed a parting shot at a Biran scoutship, sending it spinning into another fighter with explosive results!

"Two for one, you bastards! Now let's get that Bogey, Bowker!"

###

Amid the rumble of several near-hits, the chatter of the CNC Center on the bridge reached a new pitch. From where they were strapped in their seats next to the Ops board, Commander Birch reviewed the progress of the battle with Admiral Huntington.

"That last one was too close!" The heavy-set, brown-haired Admiral mused. He asked his executive officer, "What's our status, Commander?"

Commander Birch ran a hand through his ash-colored hair as he grimaced. "Right now the hull and our armor is holding. The Birans must have expected us to take the second ship as bait, but it's a good thing we didn't!"

"Clarify?"

"The second ship is a lesser-class battlecarrier. She matches us in speed and firepower, but carries less armor overall. But between her and the destroyer, they've got us right where they want us." Birch tapped the CNC map in front of them. "Between their guns, and the fact the one is blocking access to the inner system, we're caught in a text-book pincer maneuver."

"Then we'd better fight our way through to clear space and 'jump back to friendly lines," Huntington reasoned, as another near-hit rattled the compartment. "Send an order to recall our flights, while we concentrate our fire on Bogey-1 to clear a path."

"That's going to be a problem, Admiral. She launched her screen fighters just as soon as Red, Yellow, and Green flights got too close to pull away." Birch frowned deeper. "Our men are caught under their air cover, and reports are coming back it's nearly impossible to find a clear path out."

Huntington frowned at Birch. "I don't like leaving men behind, Commander." Somewhere aft, a massive explosion rocked the ship, forcing both men and everyone else inside the compartment to find a handhold. "Can those flights hold the second Bogey's fighters until we can offer support?"

Commander Birch shook his head. "No, sir. Current scans are choppy, but we estimate they outnumber our flights three-to-one. Unless we can support them, they don't stand a chance, but while we've got Bogey-1 harassing us we can't break free."

Huntington groused. "If she hadn't caught us with our collective pants down, we could have been ready for her without committing those flights. Can we send any relief to help them?"

"Bogey-2 is too far out of weapons range, and none of the remaining screen flights can break off to help. However, I can suggest that we could launch the Alert-5s."

Huntington blinked. "Our back up wings!?"

"They'd have a better chance of getting to them in time."

Huntington scowled. "That's four sub-flights of four fighters each; sixteen in all. They'd just be more fodder for the Birans!"

"Perhaps, but it would give any survivors a chance to break free and return to base." Birch nodded, as if he needed to reinforce his own words. "I agree it's foolish to just throw more fighters away, but to leave our men to die... without taking the risk?"

Rubbing his bulldog chin, the Admiral asked. "Could we go after the second Biran without sustaining pursuit from the first? Our anti-air batteries could reinforce the Alert-5's and provide the needed cover to pull those men out of there."

Birch seemed to be anticipating this, turning to order an enlisted rating, "Get me the latest damage estimate on Bogey-1." Looking back at Huntington, he explained, "If she's taken more than forty-percent damage, the Biran captain may not pursue us to save his ship."

"Are you certain that will happen, Commander? The Birans have been very unpredictable as of late." As if to punctuate his words, a series of 'bangs' stitched their way overhead; echoing over the sounds of men's screams.

Birch flinched slightly, but his voice was steady. "Yes, but they've been dead keen on salvaging their capital ships if the battle has even an inkling of getting too costly."

The enlisted man returned with a celluloid, "Report from Observation, sir."

Birch read it to Huntington, "Reports show Bogey-1 has sustained nearly thirty-eight percent damage. A few more volleys should tie her up so we can get Bogey-2."

Admiral Huntington snapped his fingers at a comm-tech. "Order all guns to target Bogey-1 for maximum effect, then fire at will. Commander, launch your Alert-5's. If they manage to rescue any of our fighters still out by Bogey-2, they'll have to rally as many as they can, then harass Bogey-2 until we come to bear on her."

###

Down in the squad bay, James listened with one ear to the reports on the main battle circuit.

"Damn…another Biran," he breathed. He stiffened, then turned from the comm-center to access one of the computers in the squad bay. "Where is that file!?" In seconds, a series of schematics scrolled across the viewscreen. Reaching up to rub the fetish around his neck, he quickly tapped another key sequence, downloading the information onto a reader chip.

Just then, the comm-system crackled to life: "All Alert pilots to your launch stations! All Alert pilots, to your launch stations!"

Looking down at the console, James snatched the chip out as it finished its cycle. Without a word, he rose and moved towards his flight pack and helmet…

###

On the Number-Two flight deck, a row of eight Liberators waited on the launch-cats. Crews alerted to the order from FlightOps scurried around them, unhooking fuel umbilical lines and locking access hatches. On Number-One deck above, eight more went through the same preparations.

Aboard the lead fighter of the hastily assembled flight, Ensign Strafford rechecked her gunner's harness and helmet links, while a tech double-checked the motive systems on her turret. "All green, Sir."

"Good. Let's button her up," she replied, locking her helmet into place. Doing so started the life-support systems in her flight pack. The stale, but welcome smell of processed air flowed from the inlet valves along her jawline, while the tech sealed the turret hatch behind her.

On the deck below, a crew chief gave some last minute information to her pilot, a tall fellow with the call sign of 'Big Red'. "The orders come from the bridge," the chief said, taking a moment to step clear as two men dragged a heavy hawser away from his fighter. "Save as many as you can, then regroup to harass the second Bogey!"

"Will get right on it, bub," Red replied. "Just make sure that deck is clear when we come back, y'hear? I don't want us landin' on jagged metal!"

A shudder shook the deck, making the chief stagger a bit. "Can't guarantee nothin'! Just bring your wings home in one piece! Good luck!"

"Thanks! Will do!" As the chief dashed off to get the deck clear, Red turned to face his ship. "Hey, Avon?" he grinned, using Wanda's call sign. "You strapped in, neat an' pretty?"

"All set, Red," she replied. "All wings are go for launch."

"Okies! Let's get this show moving!" He barely got one foot on the access ladder, when someone shouted from across the deck.

"Hey! Wait! Change in the line-up!" Pelting across the deck, James ducked under Relief-1's wing to face Red. "Just got the word from Ops! They want me to go up with my gunner!"

Red looked at the dusky pilot skeptically as the sounds of the ship's big guns rumbled over the whine of revving engines. "Is that right?"

"They just called me from below." Slapping his helmet on, the Lieutenant grabbed the fighter's access ladder, but Red stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"Hey, just where were you, anyway?"

"In the can. Bad field rations! Look, we can't hold things up any longer!"

"Oh! Well, I was hoping for a few minutes of space time! But, a pilot works best with his own gunner! Good luck, bub!"

Waving the tall man off, James clambered into the cockpit, pausing just long enough to flash a sheepish grin at Wanda, who was looking at him incredulously.

"Jimmy!? What are you doing?"

Taking time to strap himself down to keep from answering, James reached over to start flipping the master switches. "What does it look like? I'm breaking a direct order so I can save the lives of my commanding officer."

Wanda looked at the back of his helmet aghast. "What about your beliefs!?" You've never flown in combat before!"

"I tested well-above high percentile in BASICS, Wanda," James shot back. "Besides, I've been reviewing battletapes on my off-time, and I think I have a way to disable the Birans without killing them. I just haven't had a chance to try it out until now."

Slapping her gunner's console, the petite ensign reminded, "Shaker's going to fry you for going against his orders like this!"

Jacking into his command panel, the Lieutenant could only grimace. "Only if we make it back." Turning around, he looked straight at Wanda. "You set?"

The sudden realization that James wasn't going to reconsider made her glare at the back at him for a moment. Then, she shook her helmeted head. "I guess, you crazy indig!"

"Good." Depressing his pip-switch, James called up the flight controller. "This Lt. Tenkiller to Ops; all flight prepped for launch."

The flight officer paused awkwardly. "Roger that…Lt. Tenkiller. We acknowledge Relief-Flight as ready. You may launch at your discretion."

"Roger, FlightOps. Relief-1 out." Toggling the main battle circuit on, he spoke with a calm voice; "Attention all Relief Flight. Prepare for secondary orders via transmission." Slapping the reader chip into a slot on his flight panel, he punched the TRANSMIT key. "The data will allow your targeting computers to disable the Biran fighters without destroying them."

A short call came back from Relief-4. "But I thought we were to kill as many Birans as we can?"

James said evenly, "This way, they'll be less radiation garbage out there to mess up our scanners. Understand?"

The other pilot replied, "Yes, sir."

"All right, standby for launch on my mark. Launch." Gripping the Heads-Up-Throttle-And-Stick, he turned to look at the cat-officer. A snapped salute, and three seconds later, he and Wanda were shoved out into free space...

###

Cursing, Capt. Shaker winged over, just barely avoiding a trail of shimmering, green blasts from one of the forward batteries on the lumbering, boxy Biran warship. Red-Knigh-8, following on his starboard wing tip, wasn't so lucky; erupting into a fireball of free atoms.

"Damnit! Bowker, where are the others!? I can't pick them up!"

"Sorry, Cap'n!" Bowker was struggling with his command board. "With all the radiation out there, visual and limited audio are all I can get to locate them!"

Shaker snarled, "We're getting creamed out here!" Yanking his fighter into a reverse-turn, he sighted four Birans closing in on top of him. With a firm stab to the firing triggers, four streams of screaming death plowed into two of them, reducing them to component matter, never to be seen again. Rather than joining them, the other two Birans soared past, melting into the dwindling millrace of fighters to find easier targets.

"If we survive this, remind me to go kick the tail rudder of that Ops officer." Shaker muttered to himself. In a louder voice, he shouted, "Bowker, get a line back to the Forestall! We have to get relief ships, or we're history and that Biran bird's gonna get away!"

"Trying, sir. I--Head's up!" The gunner cranked the turret around like a dervish, lasers blazing as a heavier Biran fighter plowed towards them.

"Frak!" Shaker was nearly too late again, as the port side wing clipped the Biran as they passed like dueling techno-knights. The Liberator went spinning away, throwing both men against their straps. With both hands on the HOTAS, Shaker wrestled with the forces conspiring to send him careening into the side of the enemy juggernaut. Finally getting control, Shaker pulled out towards the edge of the battle.

"Damit, Bowker! Get me that relief, or were all going to become one with the universe without joining a monastery!"

Before his gunner could answer, Three more Biran fighters dipped low to send green tracers after their ship. A split second later, a score of heavy red pulses flayed the Birans, sending them careening off with fire trailing from their vital parts.

A quartet of new fighters soared into view, giving time for Red Knight-1 to get clear of the millrace.

Shaker's commlink piped. "Colonial Flights, this is Relief-1. Regroup at Outer Grid 19-mark-6, and wait for further command orders."

Shaker almost didn't think he was hearing right. "That sounded like Tenkiller!"

"Relief-1, Red-Knight-1! Say again, please?" Bowker asked.

"Again, all fighters regroup to OG-19.6," the reply came back; colored with the young lieutenant's recognizable accent. "Hold there to await command orders."

Nearly spitting, Shaker finally found his voice. "Tenkiller!? What in God's Holy Name are you doing out here!? And what did you to those fighters???"

"Saving your tail, Cap'n." James's ship soared past, his 7's and 5 blazing into another Biran straggler and crippling it. "And fixing it so they don't kill any more Colonials! I suggest you make the RP, sir. Command's got a big job for us all. Relief-4 and 3, status?"

Bowker spoke up. "What do we do, Cap'n?"

Shaker growled, squeezing of several shots against an unknowing Biran in front of them. "Follow him! I can always court-martial him later!"

###

"Admiral? Bogey-1 is holding position! She's still harassing us with weapon's fire, but she's steady at 117!"

Admiral Huntington lifted an eyebrow, dismissing the rating with a wave. "Well, Commander? Looks like your intelligence on the Biran's is holding true."

Just then, another rating reported, "Sir, Relief-Flight has rescued several survivors from the attack on Bogey-2, but they don't have enough firepower to slow her down before she brings us into weapons range."

"What do you recommend, Commander? Against that first Biran, we took quite a pounding. But that second one's still fresh, no matter what our fighters do to her."

Commander Birch consulted the battle maps. "Cannon and beam fire at this range would be a waste of ammunition, Admiral, but she's just come into range of our missiles and deep space torpedoes."

"Recommendations?"

"Recommend we uncork the R-21's against Bogey-2, with plasma warheads instead of tactical ones. We can stay out of the reach of her weapons, then go in to finish her when she goes down."

"Agreed." Huntington turned to the GCO. "Ready the Whalers on deca-racks One through Four. Commander, alert Relief Flight and the survivors on the in-bounds, and tell them to get as far from the target as possible."

"Aye, sir. And, we'd better fit the Whalers with jamming screens as well."

"Belay that, Commander," Huntington said. "Outfitting screens on those missiles will take time. Bogey-2 is approaching fast. The missiles go out without screens."

"Sir, we won't be in range for another ten minutes," Birch pointed out. "We'd have enough time to fit at least one deca-group in time."

"And a full spread would be enough to knock Bogey-2 out of the battle for good."

"But, sir, from what NAVINT reported from the Battle of Astra-229--!"

The Admiral frowned. "We don't even know if this Biran has that system."

"But Intelligence has seen the Birans use it on several capital ships, sir!"

"Only in the main flotillas." Huntington consulted a nearby view of the second ship. "This one has the markings of one of the lesser commands." Huntington nodded to the GCO. "Proceed with the operations. Plot firing solutions, and inform me when you have them."

The Gunnery Command Officer turned from his console. "It's not going to be easy, Admiral. With all the free radiation from the dogfights and our own guns we can barely scan Bogey-2, much less get a hard lock. But, we'll try, sir."

###

Flying line-abreast with Red-Knight-1 at port, and Relief-2 at starboard, James locked onto a tall tower that NAVINT had tagged as a energy regulator. Standing out like a sun-struck fool on the surface, they couldn't miss it.

"This is going to be close! Even without her fighters, this tin-fish packs a punch!" Relief-2 warned, buffeted by energy flack.

"Just hold it…" James said, waiting until the ferrous steel tower loomed large in his sights. "Fire!"

As one, the three Liberators fed mega-joules of laser energy into the structure. Peeling away at the last possible moment, they barely managed to escape as the explosion ripped the tower apart, as well as a portion of the surrounding ship as well.

"Great cats! That must've hurt!" Shaker crowed.

"And it will stop all batteries on that mainline from firing," James replied.

"Still on your pacifist gunk, Lieutenant?"

"Of course! Now we have a clear path to shoot out the guns on the next battery deck!"

The commlink piped. "Relief-1, this is Camelot-Base. Whalers are inbound when we have a firing solution. Clear Bogey-2 and return to base."

"Understood, Camelot, Bowker answered. "Cap'n, did you hear that?"

"Yeah! Hope they didn't load them up with nukes. Let's get out of here, Lieutenant!"

"Right. All fighters, Relief-1. Inbound missiles on Bogey-2. Break off and head for home."

"Relief-1, Blackcat-9!"

"Go, ahead."

"Something's going on! Bogey-2's superstructure just lit up like a Christmas tree!"

James blinked. "Wanda! Take a look behind us."

His dorsal turret indexed around. "He's right! The upper structure's surrounded in an energy nimbus!"

"Damn!" Shaker cursed. "The Brass has been hinting the Birans have a new type of anti-missile technology. That must be it!"

Wanda sounded puzzled. "But, why doesn't Command fire the guns? A few placed laser hits would knock this out."

"It could be she's still out of range, or all the radiation from the weapons fire screening out any scans," Relief-2 reasoned.

"If the Forestall could see it, she'd have answered with guns instead of missiles! If this thing can knock out the missiles before they make impact--!?" Wanda's voice trailed off. "Even without fighters, this Biran can make trouble for the Forestall!"

James yanked on the HOTAS. "Come on! We can't wait for Command to break through the radiation junk!"

"Where are you going, Tenkiller!?" Shaker shouted.

"A system like that has to run off of a separate energy system," the dusky lieutenant explained. "We nail that, and the Whalers can get through."

"It's a suicide run, James," Wanda warned. "Even if we take the system out, we'd never get clear before the Whalers hit!"

Stars pin-wheeled around them. "Maybe. But one fighter's not worth the loss of an entire Colonial capital ship. Relief-2, get the rest of the flights clear and get them home."

"What about you, Relief-1?"

James paused. "I'll handle the AMS. Just get everyone clear, understand? If we don't make it back… send to the Admiral: we did our best."

"Roger. We'll keep the rest of Birans off your back on our way out. Good luck." The rest of the flights darted away, burning trails of thruster fire behind them.

Wanda winced as she held on. "I sure hope you're planning on getting back in once piece!"

James flipped open the arming switches on the four Markites stowed under his wings. "I'd make your mother very unhappy if I got you killed, Wanda."

Suddenly, two Liberators appeared beside them. "At your three!" Blackcat-9 reported. "I'm on this run, too!"

"At your nine, Lt. Tenkiller! Damnit, you're not getting out of a court's martial that easily!"

James winked at Shaker's unseen face. "Knew you wouldn't let us go in alone."

He could almost see the veteran scowl respectfully this time. "Just watch the target! We'll watch your wings!"

###

"Admiral, we have a firing solution!"

Nodding to the GCO, Huntington simply said. "Fire Whalers."

Below the bridge, covers over four boxy protuberances broke away, revealing missiles lined up like shark's teeth. Amid puffs of plasma flame, a score each left the launchers, guided by signal beams towards the enemy ship.

###

Slinging around a blasted turret, the three fighters swooped along the hull of the Biran ship, like bees swarming over an immense bear.

"We can't get close to the superstructure!" Blackcat-9 snapped.

Wanda snapped, "We'd better do something! I just saw contrails from the Forestall!"

Shaker slapped his command console. "Frak! They launched!"

Working on his computer, Bowker reported, "If I calculate this right, estimate one minute-thirty seconds to target!"

"Then we have to get the target on this pass," James stated. Pulling around, he pointed the nose back up towards the collection of towers that covered the Biran's upper deck. "Everyone prep your missiles! We'll need to hit the target with enough mass to knock it out for good."

"But, why use Markites?!? Won't the Anti-Missile System knock them out?" Wanda asked, clinging to the inside of her turret.

"It'll have to track them first. Right now, I'll bet the Birans are targeting the missiles from the Forestall," James replied, before muttering to himself. "I just hope Forestall is using low-yield warheads. Anything higher will blow the entire Biran ship to pieces."

"What should we be looking for, Relief-1?" Blackcat-9 asked.

"An energizer node, or a generator housing. Something that looks like it's connected to the main power structure of the bridge!"

Weaving around an open area in the shadow of the superstructure, the three fighters suddenly emerged in a hailstorm of weapons fire.

"One minute to impact," Bowker stuttered.

"Brother!" Shaker groused. "They took their sweet time noticing us!"

"Just hold it together," James snapped. "We're nearly there!"

Right on James's words, A blob of green energy slammed into the top of Red-Knight-1.

"Jeez!!"

"Shaker!?"

"I'm all right!" Looking over his shoulder, the steel-eyed officer nearly blanched at the sight of the remains of his dorsal turret. "But I lost Bowker!"

James made a small prayer before asking, "Can you still fire your missiles?"

"Yeah," came Shaker's reply, "but I think I lost half of my avionics... I got tons of multi-failures all across the panel!"

"Stay with us as long as you can!"

Wanda took up the count. "Forty-five seconds to impact!" Amid the crossfire, the superstructure loomed.

"Lieutenant! I can see it! A pyramid structure against something like the main deckhouse, just aft," Blackcat-9 called.

"Everyone lock on to it," James ordered. "We're only going to get one shot, so it has to count!"

"Roger!"

"Right! Tenkiller!?"

"Yeah, Cap'n?"

"Good luck."

"You too... boss." Soaring forward, the trio of Colonials spun their way through the web of electric death coming from the Biran defenses. "Synch us up, Wanda!"

Tweeking a pair of toggles, she reported, "Thirty seconds. All firing controls locked in to your targeting computer, James. It's your game now!"

Two blasts clipped the center ship, which made Shaker bark out, "Tenkiller?!?"

"I'm all right!" As the last of the defensive guns fell away behind them, he could see the objective ahead. "Got a beam on… holding… holding… locked, and good tone!" James barked. "Fox-four!"

"Firing, Fox-four," Blackcat-9 echoed.

"Missiles away! Fox-Frakin'-Four!" Four points of light, joined by eight more, shot into view. Spiraling sparkling contrails, they rocketed towards the Biran ship.

"Ten seconds to impact!"

"Pull out!" Hauling on the HOTAS, James send his fighter screaming into free space, followed by his wing mates. Behind him, Wanda plastered herself against the rear of her turret. Amid the flare of the fighter's engines, she gasped as the missiles struck home. In the aftermath, the glowing light on the superstructure faded out.

"It's a Hit!" She pounded the canopy frame with enthusiasm. "Maximum effect!"

"Great! What about the Whalers?" James asked.

In answer, a series of stronger explosions rippled into existence behind them.

"They got it!" Blackcat-9's gunner cheered. "The defense system isn't stopping them!"

Wanda's voice pitched up an octave. "That's not all that's happening! The Bogey's going nova!!!"

Looking back on his screens, James watched as s ripple of blisters ran the length of the Biran's hull, indicating massive internal explosions. "Damn! They used high-yield warheads! Everyone go to overdrive, NOW!" Slamming the stick home, James felt the two plasma engines behind him howl as they pumped every erg into distancing them from the doomed ship.

A moment later, the starburst that marked the end of Bogey-2 erupted into being, devouring everything in its path as it expanded outwards into the cosmos. Just barely ahead of it, James called to his wing mates, "Shaker! Blackcat! Where are you?"

A shimmering object streaked ahead on his left. "'Cat here! I'm ahead of you on your 11!"

Relief was only partial just then. "Cap'n!? You'd better get up here!"

Shaker's voice came back riddled with an unheard emotion: fear. "Trying! But I…I-It's hard to control!" Slowly, the third Liberator slid into sight on James's right, but from the way it flew it was clear Capt. Shaker was in serious trouble.

A rumbling in the fighter's space frame heralded the massive shock wave coming towards them. "Cap'n! Throw everything you've got into your over-driver! You can get clear!"

"Lieutenant!" Shaker's voice, marbled by the wave of radiation preceding the shockwave, said, "G-Get your tai-l-l out of here! T-There's n-othing you can d-do for me."

"Damnit, Shaker! You can get clear if you just--!"

"Tenkiller! What part of what I said didn't register in your indig braincase!?" The transmission began to break up, worse than before. "Get your sorry behind out of here! That's an order!!!" With that last word, they lost Shaker's voice altogether as his fighter suddenly lost ground, plunging back towards the approaching energy mass.

"Frak!" Coming from James' mouth, Shaker's often used curse sounded alien. "Wanda, can our scanners get a quick lock on Shaker through the radiation soup?"

Holding on for dear life, Wanda glanced at her console. "I t-think so! Yeah!"

"Then use the tow cables!"

His gunner blinked. "What???"

"Lock onto Red-Knight-1 and fire!"

Struggling with the controls, she muttered, "Sure hope you know what you're doing! Cables ready… and away!" Two thumps heralded the appearance of thin, black lines trailing behind James's ship. "Contact!"

"Hold on back there!" Smashing the HOTAS home, James flipped a bright amber switch marked 'OVERDRIVE'. Engines screaming, the Liberator goosed forward just as the radiation wave enveloped them. For a moment, as his space endo-suit activated beneath his pressure suit to shield him, James lost sight of the stars as his canopy washed over in yellow-red light. Warning lights flashed all over the command panel, changing from green to red in a matter of moments…

###

Then, with the quickness of a curtain being slowly drawn back, space reappeared.

Blinking, James glanced at the metal spars of his canopy, before examining himself for damage. Blood trickled from his nose and out of the corner of his mouth. Working his arms experimentally, he ran his hands over his suit, checking for seal ruptures and other hurts. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the readout of the fighter's chronometer, displaying a figure that showed nearly a full five minutes after their attack on the Biran had passed.

"Wow…" Turning towards the turret behind him, James saw the colored helmet of his gunner leaning against her console. "Wanda? Wanda!? You still with me?"

Sounding shaken, Wanda's voice came through the commlink. "Remind me," she uttered, "to hurt you… terribly, after we land."

With a small grin, James silently made a prayer. "Yeah, you're alive." Checking his controls again, he muttered, "The shock wave blacked us out for a bit, but everything seems functional. At least flight wise."

Wanda groaned as she pulled herself upright in her turret. "Thank heavens… I thought we'd have to get out and push." She paused, looking around for a moment. "Wait… what happened to Shaker?"

That brought James up short. "Isn't he still behind us!?"

"N-No!" Raising up, Wanda looked back along their fighter to where the tow cables should have been. All that remained were two tattered chunks of the fuselage where the cables were still attached to. "Jimmy-y… he's gone…"

Tenkiller sighed deeply, unable to hide his disappointment. "No sign at all?"

"N-None," Wanda replied. "The shockwave or the radiation must have taken him out."

Just then, a shadow loomed over them, just as a grapple arm descended over the cockpit of their stricken fighter. Looking up, both pilot and gunner spied the familiar form of a Vulcan-class recovery ship.

"Well, looks like we get a free right home," Wanda commented. She then looked down at her pilot, seeing him leaned over his console with his arms crossed over his chest. "Say, Jimmy? You all right?"

"No," Jimmy replied, his eyes never leaving the reverse view image on his viewscreen; where the last remains of Red-Knight-1 dangled on the end of the tow lines. Reaching up, he wrapped his fingers around the fetish under his suit. "And to be honest, I don't think I will be… for quite some time."

THE END

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