[Y169 - CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS - KZINTI CC WHITE DWARF]

I still loathe paperwork, thinks Admiral Rushwind as he sniffs his cup of warm milk and takes a sip, before returning to the large desk which dominates his otherwise spartan quarters. For the life of me, I'll never understand why they still insist on getting quarterly personnel reports when we're in the middle of a war. The Captain sighs as he sits again at his desk and eyes the databooks scattered haphazardly across the desktop with dread.

"Computer, continue recording," he sighs. "During the past three months I have gotten to know my staff officer's somewhat better. However, due to the rash of command grade officers we have lost over the last few years, most of the officers who have served on White Dwarf for any significant length of time have been promoted to command their own vessels. This has left the crew and officers of the fleet flagsh . . . the flagship cruiser in constant flux."

Rushwind pauses, stretching his back and wincing in pain. Damn Dreadnoughts -- shouldn't have ever drawn the blueprints. Too big -- too expensive -- and horribly unmaneuverable. For the rest of my life, I'll never get used to the concept that the White Dwarf is no longer the fleet flagship.

He picks up a random databook. His ears twitch mirthfully when he realizes it is actually the one he wants.

"Though I have now been in command for six months, most of my senior officers have been here for less than three. Despite the standard problems to be expected with the constant change in personnel, it is a good crew. The detailed reports on my senior officers are on file. My current fitness assessment and recommendations for my senior staff are as follows."

The Captain takes a sip of his milk. Why is it that every cup of Thelasian milk on every ship in the fleet tastes like burnt toast? Rushwind frowns as he sets down the cup and begins scrolling through the entries of the databook.

"Commander Peeker: Second-in-Command. Chief of Operations and Security Chief. Thorough, but not creative. The first of only two crew members who've served under me before. Confident to the point of arrogance. Does not recognize his own short-comings in some cases. A very good administrator, but not much of a leader. I cannot recommend a promotion to Captaincy at this time.

Commander BirdsEye: Weapons Officer. Superlative skill, but hot-headed. Despite being busted two steps in rank after abysmal performance as Captain of a Battle Cruiser, he seems genuinely thrilled to be back at the weapons' console. Movement to any other position will be a waste of talent.

Lieutenant Amberclaw: Science Officer. Cunning and creative, but no inherent leadership ability. Efforts in cross-training have been disappointing to date. He may eventually become a good Department Head one day, but unlikely to go any farther.

Commander Longtail: Helmsman. Very quiet. The files say he's an excellent pilot under stress, I certainly hope so, though we have not yet been in such a situation, since he came aboard. However, he has concentration problems in routine situations. Seems to be somewhat afraid of me, probably due to my reputation. He'll definitely be a wild card in the coming operation. He will need much more cross-training over the next few years before a command assessment can be reasonably made.

Lieutenant Razorfang: Communications. Gods, he's young. He still thinks he's indestructible. I could use some of that youthful enthusiasm right now, Rushwind doesn't add to his report. Has spent much effort trying to gain experience in Navigation as well as Weapons operations. Extremely ambitious and surprisingly organized considering his inexperience. Every effort should be made to promote this kit's career. He has the potential to be a competent Captain some day, though he may lack the creativity to be something special.

Chief Engineer Underpaw: Almost as old as I am. Dependable, seasoned, loyal, cool under fire. Couldn't ask for better under the circumstances. Has been with the White Dwarf for almost five years. Though he has no ambition to move from his current post, I believe the loss of Captain . . . "

A chime on Rushwind's wrist-comm sounds, interrupting his report. "Computer, save file and prompt for completion when I return."

"Alarm set," the computer replies as Rushwind exits his quarters.

Striding onto the bridge, Rushwind's eyes immediately go to the large viewscreen at the head of the room. He can see a small portion of Starbase 14 in the bottom right hand corner of the frame. Stars speckle the otherwise empty blackness. He knows that below them, the small planet of Mziella revolves slowly. He also knows its vast array of ground defenses will be of little use in the coming battle.

"Tactical," he orders quietly, easing down into his too soft, overstuffed chair, surpressing the moan his ancient muscles try to force out of him. The image changes to that of the entire system as seen from above. Beside the planet lie the base, his ship, and two smaller ships, the DD Gryphon and FH99. The resolution of the display is not great enough to show the large freighter Rushwind knows is docked to the base currently, having only recently finished unloading her cargo of spare parts and drones.

Rushwind realizes that nothing has changed on the tactical display since he was last on the bridge several hours ago. He also realizes his nervousness is starting to infect those on the bridge. If Jumper was here to talk tactics with, maybe I wouldn't be so jumpy, he ponders.

"Commander Peeker, what's the status of the freighter?"

"Unloading is complete. She's being loaded with her return cargo now. Since they needn't be so careful now, it shouldn't take long."

Rushwind nods acknowledgment, knowing empty freighters are worse than useless. He also knows that all she will ferry back is broken parts, garbage, and other items the base has no further need of. He silently urges those loading the ship to hurry, so she can leave before the Lyrans arrive.

"Sir, the perimeter snoopers are picking up disruptions of the gravity flow pattern from the fringe of detection range," Amberclaw states calmly.

"Here we go," Rushwind sighs, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the coming contest. His eyes open and there is fire behind them along with an intense, almost hypnotic, concentration. However, hidden deep behind the gray orbs, there is doubt.

"Battlestations," he utters.

The lights turn red.

***

Firemane shivers in silence on the bridge of the Ice on Fire, as does the rest of the crew. He wonders how much longer they can endure their 'derelict' status, with all power shut down, except for passive sensors and minimal life support. Thankfully, he does not have to find out.

"Captain," Commander Highclimber whispers, as if his words can be heard by the enemy they lie in wait for, "The Catapult is picking up a minor disturbance in cosmic ray pattern along the Krrrleia Corridor."

"WhiteEar, use the fiberlink to inform the other ships, but maintain derelict status. We must make sure they are past us before we spring our trap."

As WhiteEar complies, Highclimber continues his report, "Disturbance is definitely moving toward the base, sir."

"Velocity?"

"Hard to say with any accuracy, but if I read this right, they're coming in at nearly maximum warp. We won't be detected."

"Activate the bombardment ships," Firemane snaps immediately. Blast! he thinks, We didn't expect them to come in so fast. I hope you can hold on long enough for us to help you, Admiral.

As Firemane prays to The Fates to assist his mentor, a pair of "Nuisance ships", drone frigates loaded with III-XX drones, begin launching their seeking weapons toward the base Rushwind is defending. The tiny vessels are old, scarred, and long overdue for decommission, were it not for the war. But instead of being scrapped, they have been refitted for one mission -- to sit a discreet distance away from enemy shipping lanes and lob long range, self-targeting drones at enemy freighter convoys.

Firemane knows when the Lyrans see the paltry force around the base, they will dispatch two or three ships to take care of the "Nuisance ships" shooting at them from behind. What the Lyrans won't know is the BC Ice on Fire and CS Galaxy lie in wait along with the CD Catapult, concealed in the asteroid belt near the pair of bombardment frigates.

It is a risky strategy, but one that will divide the Lyran force, if it works, and lead to two surprises. The first, when the detachment sent to destroy the bombardment squadron gets ambushed; the second when Firemane and his contingent scream in from behind the Lyrans attacking the base. Can Rushwind hold them long enough? Firemane continues to ask himself.

WhiteEar interrupts Firemane's thoughts, "Sir, subspace transmission from base. Bandits inside system perimeter. Slowing to attack speed."

"Thank you, WhiteEar. Send to all vessels, all systems to passive stand-by." Firemane is relieved as he listens to the familiar hum of the bridge come to life. Their biggest danger, that the Lyrans might spot them on the way in, is over. Now he must prepare to ambush the small contingent he expects will soon arrive.

Firemane's ear twitches mirthfully as he notes the irony that the Lyrans choice to come in at maximum warp has created enough sensor interference to help obscure the nominal power emanations of his squadron when the Lyran contingent comes to investigate the "nuisance ships".

"What is the status of subspace communications?"

"Command channel on stand-by. Encryption cycle running. Green lights across the board," WhiteEar replies. "Getting increased readings of subspace interference."

"They're jamming the base, trying to prevent any distress calls from getting out," Firemane says casually. "Detach fiberlink and retract."

WhiteEar flicks an ear in acknowledgment as he complies with the Captain's orders. The molecule thin filaments linking the tightly bunched squadron together are reeled in with lightning-like efficiency.

Firemane makes a mental note to officially commend WhiteEar for suggesting the fiberlink between their ships during their wait. Though the subspace communication grid command link is unjammable, it might have been detected by the Lyrans during their approach, even while they were in warp space. It had been WhiteEar's idea to use a physical link between the Ice on Fire and other vessels, which erased any chance the communications could be intercepted.

Firemane realizes for the first time he is truly in charge of the squadron. He leans back in his command seat, glad to feel warm air blowing as life support functions return to full power. More of the same, he thinks, Hurry up and wait. He knows they do not have long to wait.

***

"Ten ships entering system," Amberclaw informs Rushwind with just a hint of fear behind his words. "Five cruisers of varying sizes, with four destroyers and a frigate. It appears that one of the destroyers is a Scout."

"Blast!" Rushwind growls. "That Scout is going to be a problem. The BATS should cancel him out, but we could have used an electronic advantage. Tell the base to request our reinforcements the instant after they detect jamming."

"Sir, did you say AFTER they . . . " Lieutenant Razorfang protests, stopping himself as he realizes who he's protesting to.

"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant. I want them to believe we were too slow in responding -- that we were caught completely unaware. With the CDs sensors, Firemane will have already detected their approach, and we'll omit him from the command link until his squadron gets here."

"Fifteen seconds until targets in range," Amberclaw interrupts.

"Send to Gryphon and 99, attack plan Alpha, as rehearsed," Rushwind orders. "Launch drones."

The three Kzinti ships spiral away from the base, heading for combat, drones spilling from the vessels like peas from a pod. As the White Dwarf gathers speed, Rushwind recalls Ironfang's ire at being pulled off his ship thanks to three broken ribs and a concussion a half year past. Rushwind wonders if Ironfang would be so eager to be in command of the Dwarf still, rather than overseeing the construction of the third Dreadnought, Alliance, if he were looking at the enemy force approaching.

Rushwind is surprised when he realizes only now, heading into combat, hopelessly outnumbered, how much he has missed the thrill of combat. He lets a soft purr of enjoyment escape. Those that hear it, interpret it as a sign he has seen something about the Lyrans to give them hope. The purr raises their spirits, for they are all aware of Rushwind's ability to perform miracles.

The trio of Kzinti ships hurtle toward the approaching Lyran fleet, seemingly oblivious to the fact they are outnumbered more than three to one. The base will add what support it can, and its special sensors will help protect the trio to some degree, but with such a huge disparity in firepower, the coming engagement can only be considered a massacre.

***

On the Lyran Battle Cruiser Predator's Pride, Captain Slashback eyes the tactical display quizzically.

"Are you sure that's all of them?" he hisses at the sensor operator.

"Just those three . . . , Wait! Picking up something on motion sensors, coming in at two-five-five mark five."

"Identify targets quickly, and give me range!" Slashback roars, irritated at having to ask for the information. He is unsatisfied with his new Exec, but is glad to have his former First Officer commanding the DD, Rage, off his port bow.

Slashback glares at the officer as he waits for the data, thinking, Tanglemane, you imbecile. I've had to work hard to get this command with no political pull to help me. I'll find a way to get rid of you, just like the other politicos they keep sending me. Once I enlist a full corps of senior officers who rose on ability rather than politics, I'll be invincible in combat. Then maybe the fools in Command will listen."

"Targets are seeking weapons. Three groups of four drones. Range is 500,000 kilometers and closing, sir."

"Point of origin?" Slashback demands.

"They appear to have emerged from somewhere in the asteroid belt Commander."

"And you detected no warp signatures from the belt as we were warping in?"

"Since we were heading for the base, the Eye concentrated sensors on forward sweep, sir, according to standard . . . "

"Don't' quote the damned manual to me, Commander! Are there any energy emissions from the asteroid belt now?!!"

"Nothing definite. G-wave disruption is hampering scan, but no movement . . . Wait! Another set of drones 200,000 kilometers behind the first, tracking similarly."

"How many drones in each group?" Slashback asks evenly, struggling to maintain his composure.

"Eighteen in the first group and a dozen in the second," Tanglemane responds a little too quick and a little too loud.

Slashback's growing rage is suddenly diffused, and the Captain purrs with delight. "It's a nuisance squadron. That's their reserve. Only those pesky throw-away tin cans could have escaped our scans on approach. And they're the only Kzin ships who carry long-lance drones as a standard load. With those groupings there are at best two drone frigates backing up the forces at the base."

Slashback presses a button on the armrest of his command chair, opening a channel to his former Exec. "Whiptail, take Rage and Berserker and go destroy the nuisance squadron launching those drones. Then rendezvous with us at the base. This battle shouldn't take long."

Whiptail's acknowledgment is cut off when the base fires its phaser IVs. The heavy phasers smack the #2 shield of Slashback's BC Predator's Pride, which coaxes a growl out of the black and white striped Captain. "Damage?" he snaps irritably.

"Number two is down fifteen percent," Tanglemane responds instantly.

"Turn right, to new course zero five zero mark two."

Slashback returns his attention to the face of his former Exec, still displayed on the forward viewscreen. He nods at his friend and comrade as he utters the word, "Go!" With a subtle wave of his claw, the view changes to show the three incoming Kzinti ships as his three destroyer class vessels peel off toward the drones approaching from behind.

"Contact Predator's Eye. Tell them to back off for now, and use one sensor channel to protect themselves. I'll call for other EW as I see fit. But I don't want that scout anywhere near the base until we've finished with this pitiful trio of defense ships."

"Yes, sir," the Comm-Sergeant replies.

Slashback leans back comfortably in his chair and says aloud, "This is going to be fun."

***

"The Destroyers are peeling off!"

"They're just taking the bait, Ensign Razorfang. No need to get excited. That still leaves six ships for us to deal with, not counting the Scout. Interesting, though, that he would send all three mid-size ships rather than a mixture. Their leader is no fool. Those ships all operate similarly, so maintaining fleet speed will be a breeze and tactics will be easier to coordinate. And they won't be vulnerable to a trio of size-class specific mines."

"The Scout's dropping back," Razorfang notes in a calmer tone.

"Main ship's almost in our maximum weapons range, sir," BirdsEye interrupts.

"On my command, fire, then perform the corkscrew maneuver, maximum acceleration possible."

"Lead vessel at 250,000 . . . 240,000 . . . and accelerating."

Rushwind watches the graphic display on the bottom of the viewscreen showing the distance to the enemy fleet grow smaller.

"Fire!"

***

"They must be insane, Captain. If the three of them keep coming," Tanglemane comments.

"They're not insane," Slashback purrs. "They'll fire and retreat. Reinforce forward shield."

"Yes, sir."

Slashback leans forward as the trio of Kzinti ships loom larger on the viewscreen. "That's the White Dwarf! I have tangled with Ironfang before. Too bad Rushwind isn't over there. Nonetheless, we shall destroy their most legendary ship today, great cats."

"Two hundred-thirty thousand kilometers. Maximum ra . . . "

The sensor officer's words are cut off as the Predator's Pride shudders.

Slashback smiles. "Report."

"Enemy fired eight standard disruptors, all targeting the Pride. However, fire was mostly ineffectual against our reinforcement. Number one shield down ten percent. No enemy phasers fired."

Slashback doesn't bother to acknowledge the report. "All ships, target the White Dwarf. GreyEyes, be ready with the tractor beam when I call for it. If we disable them without destroying her, we'll board and take their flagship cruiser home with us."

"They're turning away."

"Of course they are Tanglemane. Helmsman, pursuit plot. Move us to 150,000, then match speed."

"Understood, sir."

"All weapons armed and ready," GreyEyes notes, as he continually readjusts the targeting on their constantly turning adversaries.

The ship suddenly rocks hard, catching all by surprise. Slashback barely manages to prevent himself from falling out of his command seat.

"What was that?" he demands.

"The base fired a full spread of disruptors and heavy phasers at us, sir. Number six shield down fifty percent."

Slashback's eyes flare and his fur bristles for a moment as he realizes the enemy fleet's maneuvering has lured him closer to the base than he intended. But his anger passes in an instant. "Ironfang is more crafty then I gave him credit for. Place targeting display on left, and give me tactical overhead on right," Slashback orders.

The forward display changes, presenting an overhead view of the system on the right half of the screen, while the targeted forms of the three Kzinti vessels continue turning on the left.

"Cancel attack plan. All ships, turn and head for the base. The Black Rain should be in position by now, and the Kzinti dogs' attention is definitely on us. Prepare to activate all ESGs in sequence, as rehearsed. Warp three toward the base with all surplus power divided between ECM and tractors. Prepare for overrun. Let's see how Ironfang reacts to this."

***

On board the Fiend, Captain Whiptail pulls at his shaggy, yellow mane as his DW leads a pair of refitted destroyers through the barrage of drones coming from the Kzinti 'nuisance squadron'.

"Slow to warp two point four," he commands, "All ships continue arming probes for information. I want as many drones identified as we can to optimize our fire at them."

"Aye, sir. Rate of fire still constant. They're just inside the fringe of the belt, Commander. They should have time for only one more spread before we're on top of them."

Whiptail nods, well aware from previous encounters with Kzinti 'nuisance ships' that when an enemy vessel closes to attack range the automated firing systems will toss everything they can at them to make thing's as difficult as possible for an enemy to destroy the bombardment ships.

"This doesn't smell right. It makes no sense."

"Sir?" the Exec asks.

"Why employ a 'nuisance squad?' This far from the base, it's almost useless."

"Since they didn't know we were coming, they used what they had, sir."

"But if they didn't know we were coming then why drag these out here? Unless . . . "

***

"Here they come, Captain."

"Stay cool, Highclimber," Firemane whispers.

The Commander eyes his commander curiously. Nice choice of words, he thinks, considering it's still barely above freezing in here.

Firemane notices the look and flicks his ear in amusement. "Things are about to warm up, Commander."

The forward viewscreen displays the forms of three Lyran Destroyers heading right by them. Bright blue beams of energy lance out from the ships as they blast their way through the waves of drones targeted on them. As they close to 30,000 kilometers of the pair of drone frigates, Firemane's squadron comes to life.

The three Kzinti ships, obscured by the thick belt of asteroids, are upon the Lyran trio before they know what's happening. Having expended all of their phasers, ESGs and tractors knocking down the drones coming from the drone frigates, the Lyran ships have nothing to stop the fourteen drones the two Kzinti BCs and CD hurl at them.

The two Destroyers are obliterated instantly, but the DW Fiend, takes evasive action an instant before the devastating blow. The ship does not escape damage altogether. The explosions from the Rage and Berserker punch a hole through the war destroyer's #3 shield an instant before it turns away from the Kzinti force and dives for cover in the asteroid belt.

The BCs fire their disruptors and phasers, but due to the asteroids, only hit with half of the bolts. The rear shield of the DW drops and the ship takes moderate internal damage as it plunges deeper into the belt, making it more difficult to target with each passing second.

Firemane is irritated at the escape of the enemy ship, and now faces a decision of whether to hunt it down and kill it or race to help Rushwind. "Damage assessment on the one that escaped."

"Didn't have time to scan, sir," Highclimber responds, frustration clearly showing in his voice.

"Extrapolate from average damage of weapons indicating they hit."

Highclimber's claws dance across his console so fast that he seems to be simply beating on the equipment, but responds in instants, "Estimate fifty-seven percent of ship sustained damage. Probable maximum maneuvering speed warp two point six. Less than warp two if he's arming what weapons he has left."

"He's no danger. Let's . . . "

"He's activating an ESG, sir!" Windrider exclaims.

"He's what?" Firemane asks, his tail drooping in astonishment as he watches the scene unfold on the forward viewscreen.

***

"Captain, we had a chance to escape. This is madness!" the Exec coughs through the smoke-filled bridge of the crippled War Destroyer.

"Enough! As long as Fiend has power we'll fight. We cannot let these ships reinforce those at the base. We've got to give Slashback time to dispose of the forces at the base, so Black Rain can do her job! Now, sit down and take the weapons console."

Whiptail knows all on board are going to die soon. But even with the impulse drive destroyed, his capacitors depleted, almost half his warp drive destroyed and life support out, he refuses to slink off and abandon Slashback. "We were given a task to perform, which we have not yet completed. We're going to close to point blank of those drone frigates and do what we were told," he orders calmly. "At least we'll be able to die bravely," he mumbles as his ship limps away from the Kzinti fleet behind them.

"On my command execute the G'leinstha maneuver."

"Sir, I don't think . . . "

"That right! Keep it that way," Whiptail interrupts the helmsman. He surveys what remains of his bridge, silently cursing those responsible.

"Now!"

The ship creaks and shudders as it flips like a pancake, bringing the main guns of the vessel around to face the Kzinti ships, while all other power is diverted to weapons. The ship holds together, emerging from the asteroids just as its one remaining ESG form around it. It hurtles back through the middle of the Kzinti Cruisers, taking fire on three different shields from the point-defense phasers the Cruisers have left. The ESG flares brightly as it rams the closest drone frigate, destroying its #6 shield, before sliding to a stop only a thousand meters from the tiny ship.

"Fire!"

***

"Captain, they're turning away," Commander Amberclaw calmly informs Rushwind.

"Blast! They're going after the base. Full about. After them." Rushwind rubs the corners of his eyes, a headache beginning to form in his temples.

The White Dwarf and her small allies wheel around, moving behind the fleet that only moments before had been closing on them. The turn takes them too wide for them to catch the Lyran fleet before it reaches the base.

Silence descends on the bridge, except for the whirs and pings of the automated equipment performing dutifully. Everyone watches the viewscreen grimly as the Lyran force descends on the small base. The base fires one massive shot at the CA Enchanter. The enemy cruiser explodes in a bright crimson flash of death.

Before the light subsides from the destruction of the ship a larger flash erupts from the Lyran fleet. They cannot tell the amount of massed fire on the base, but they know the concentrated fire of the enemy fleet should be more than enough to destroy the Battlestation.

All the Kzinti are surprised when the Lyran fleet swoops past the base, leaving it intact, though severely damaged. Rushwind is equally surprised when the Lyrans continue to flee, rather than coming back to finish the base and the White Dwarf.

"Lyran fleet coming to new course, three seven five mark one," Commander Longtail announces. "The explosion of the CA did severe damage to rear shields of all the Lyran ships. The frigate suffered minor internal damage from the blast. We can line up on their rear and take advantage of the down shields, sir."

"I don't think so, Commander. They are probably laying a considerable mine field as we speak. Bring us to course three five oh, mark one until we're past the BATS, then turn to parallel," Rushwind says, eyeing the fleeing Lyran fleet quizzically. "Stay out of their wake. I don't want to risk hitting any t-bombs," he adds.

"Our drones didn't dent their alpha much, huh?" Peeker sighs.

"No. But those six ships should have blown the BATS. And they have no reason to pull away like they are. But if they're going to present their tails, I suppose we should oblige by blowing them off. All ships, target the frigate."

The crews on the three Kzinti ships react instantly, eagerly carrying out the orders. Rushwind sinks deeper into his command chair, puzzling over the Lyran tactics, troubled by his inability to figure out what they are up to -- and more importantly, what they will do next.

***

"They're still trailing, sir. But they skirted our mines."

Slashback laughs, "IronFang isn't as gullible as I'd hoped. Still, he's too stupid to break off now. We'll draw this pitiful squadron away from the Battlestation then turn and engage with fully charged weapons. Meanwhile, Whiptail's squadron can assist Black Rain when she moves in to capture the base."

"Sir, Predator's Eye has fallen too far back. The Kzinti trio has gotten between us and our scout," Tanglemane announces excitedly.

"Tell the Eye to accelerate away from the Kzin ships and rendezvous with Whiptail," Slashback nods at his Comm-Sergeant casually. Then his brow furrows and he asks the officer, "What's the last report from Whiptail, anyway? He should have dispatched the nuisance squad by now."

Flipping switches to send the coded transmission to the Lyran Scout, the Comm-Sergeant answers without turning. "We got a squawk just as we were engaging the base. They had closed to 80,000km of a pair of DFs just inside the edge of the belt and had at that point taken no damage. Then transmission was cut."

"Reason?"

"Unknown. The Enchanter was destroyed at almost that exact moment. I thought it might have simply been ionic interference, or perhaps the destroyer squad was a little too busy to report."

Slashback pauses, considering this information. "I don't like it. Tell the Eye to relay a sitrep as soon as she makes contact with Fiend."

"Aye, sir," the Comm-Sergeant acknowledges, returning his full attention to his console.

"I still think they will self-destruct, rather than let the base fall into our claws," Tanglemane snorts.

Slashback glares at his Exec. "You just keep an eye on the ships. I'll take care of capturing the base," he growls softly.

"We're almost clear of the system, sir," the helmsman interrupts.

"Increase to max combat speed and turn to heading three zero five mark two. I want Ironfang to think we're heading home. After they take their pot shot at us, we'll turn and engage them before they can rearm. And with this much of an edge in firepower, they don't stand a chance."

"We have moved outside scan range of base, sir."

"Excellent," Slashback purrs.

***

"Enemy fleet turning left to new heading. Also increasing speed to max combat warp," Longtail informs Rushwind.

"It looks like they're leaving," Rushwind says, knitting his brow. "Razorfang, contact Central Command and see if there is an incident going on elsewhere. This must be a feint or something."

As Longtail sends the message, BirdsEye speaks. "Enemy fleet at 170,000 kilometers. One hundred sixty, one fifty . . . "

"Fire all disruptors!" Rushwind orders.

BirdsEye targets the frigate carefully. The Lyran frigate's rear shields are paper thin, and when three quarters of the disruptors hit home, the #5 shield drops and the tiny vessel takes minor damage.

"Not enough to prevent them from . . . " Amberclaw stops his analysis in mid-sentence as the entire Lyran fleet turns back toward their pursuers.

"Launch drones and get us out of here," Rushwind orders calmly.

Longtail complies instantly, but the Lyran ships are too fast, closing to 80,000 kilometers before the Kzinti ships can accelerate. The drones are easily dodged, so all the Lyran phasers are available as the fleet moves into primary attack range. The White Dwarf is struck by a dozen disruptor bolts, several overloaded from battery power. The bolts rip away the Dwarf's #3 shield, wreaking havoc on the hull, but the Kzinti warship continues fleeing the Lyran fleet, still in one piece.

"All ships, launch drones as soon as the launchers cycle. Drop mines now and set proximity fuses for minimum scan range. Set mines to accept only cruisers. We'll set ours to hit the frigate. With a little luck all three will detonate simultaneously. Rushwind out."

All eyes gravitate to the viewscreen, showing the Lyran fleet still gaining rapidly on the three Kzin ships.

"BC is activating ESGs," Amberclaw announces.

"Blast!" Rushwind roars, silently praying to The Fates that the ESGs do not come up fast enough to sweep the mines. "Any sign of the Scout, Amberclaw?"

The calico science officer pulls his amber-colored right paw away from his console as he turns to eye his Captain. "Sorry, sir. No sign of it anywhere."

Rushwind nods his understanding as he watches the Lyran fleet continue the chase, closing with each second. He wonders silently, Where is Firemane?

***

The forward viewer of the Ice on Fire shows the form of the Lyran DW Fiend, as it slams its ESG into the side of drone frigate #133. Then a single disruptor and the few phasers left on the DW lash out at the tiny ship, slicing into the all but defenseless vessel, leaving the ship a smoking hulk. Firemane is livid.

"All ships, charge all phasers and close to 20,000 kilometers of the Lyran ship. Tell the one-thirty-three to TAC a fresh shield to face the Lyran. Tell eighty-eight to use its full reserve capability to accelerate and get clear of the explosion radius," Firemane commands, berating himself for allowing the DW its one shot at the DF. Though he knows that his speed had been limited, having to start from a standstill against a target already moving at combat speed, he silently curses himself for not leaving one of the ships of his command to kitty-sit the DFs long enough for them to get under way.

He seethes as his squadron closes in on the immobile enemy war destroyer. The Galaxy and Catapult mass their phaser fire along with Firemane's ship, slicing into the Fiend from the rear.

The weak rear shield of the Fiend is not nearly enough to withstand the barrage. Several beams of energy slice through the hull of the ship, cutting ever deeper into the central structure until they find the critical power junctions of the vessel at the center of the ship. The blast flares brightly on the forward viewer, the flames engulfing the gutted hulk of DF133. Luckily, she had managed to get a fresh shield to the enemy before the detonation.

"Tell one-thirty-three to make best speed for our preset rendezvous point and wait until the all-clear is given before approaching the base. Tell all other ships vector to base," Firemane commands. "Top speed!"

***

"ESGs one and two active at radius two," Tanglemane announces, as if the Captain cannot tell from the hazy glow now clouding his view of the Kzinti ships only 40,000 kilometers away.

Slashback considers reprimanding his Exec for having to ask particulars on what range to put each ESG at when he had given the order. But before he speaks, he realizes it was Whiptail's expertise he was still relying on. Whiptail would not have had to ask any questions. He would have known exactly why Slashback was raising the ESGs and though he has good reasons to dislike Tanglemane, he knows this was a case he should have given his Exec all of the information in his original order, rather than having to clarify each part of it.

Luckily, no mines had gone off since activating the energy fields. A few more seconds, and he could be certain that his enemy had not managed to . . .

The explosion rocks the ship as the forward viewer goes completely white for a moment. When the viewer resets, all can see the tell-tale signs of an explosion as tiny bits of still glowing metal dance in random directions before sweeping past on all sides.

Slashback roars at Tanglemane, "Damage report!"

"Number two shields down on all vessels. Three small mines detonated. We prevented internal damage to ourselves by diverting batteries to the shield. The Sadist, of course took no internals due to her stronger shielding. The Plunder took only minor hull damage, no weapons or power lost. The Pouncer did not fare as well. She took the full effect of one mine internally. She's down one phaser, one ESG, and nominal warp power," Tanglemane pauses.

"And Slammer?" Slashback knows the frigate, having already lost her padding to previous damage must certainly be hurting badly.

"The blast from just one of the mines all but destroyed her number two, which means she took the brunt of two mines internally. She has one disruptor and one phaser left. But more importantly, she's down to less than half her original warp."

"What's her speed?" Slashback asks, a note of horror in his voice.

"Warp one point five," Tanglemane says uneasily, not understanding the Captain's agitation.

"Tractor that ship now!"

"Aye, sir," comes a voice from across the bridge instantly.

Tanglemane looks at the viewscreen, and only then remembers the BC has a pair of fully charged ESGs active.

"Tell the other ships to weave back and forth as needed to stay within the fields," Slashback commands, his tone suddenly much calmer. "Let me know the instant we get close enough to the Kzinti ships that we can safely let go of the Slammer and hit the Kzinti with the Spheres."

"Understood," the helmsman answers coolly.

As the five Lyran ships creep slowly closer to the enemy trio, Slashback eyes the view screen hungrily. "That dog set those mines for range zero detection. I can't believe that's Ironfang. I haven't seen anyone place t-bombs so quickly and effectively since Rushwind . . . " Slashback bares his razor sharp fangs in a hideous parody of a smile.

"Thirty-thousand kilometers to enemy ships. Sir, they're accelerating," the helmsman notes.

In an instant, Slashback considers using the rest of his reserve to stay with the Kzinti fleet, but knows that except for his BC and the CWL Sadist, the other ships have expended all of their reserve warp in reducing the internals from the mines. "Reserve speed change," he mumbles.

"But, sir," the navigator starts to say.

"Not us, Lieutenant Wanderlust. Them. This acceleration is too conveniently timed. All ships, lock every phaser except our point-defense phasers on the Dwarf. Fire!"

Multiple beams of energy reach out to the White Dwarf, revealing the curve of its rear shield as the energy beams flare brightly against the invisible force field. The shield gives and the lances of light criss-cross against the aft quarter of the Kzinti CC, gouging great chunks out of the Command Cruiser. The ship loses multiple systems, but most importantly, it loses just enough warp power that it slows, though only slightly.

Slashback snarls happily as the form of the White Dwarf begins growing larger once more.

"This shall be a great day for our race," Slashback states with calm assurance, his tongue darting out of his mouth in anticipation.

***

On the Lyran Scout Predator's Eye, Captain Ravenmane sits calmly in his command chair watching the tiny images representing his fleet and the enemies' on the view screen as they buzz around on the periphery of his scanning range like flies.

"Sir, picking up incoming ships on sensors," the Sensor Operator interrupts.

"Range and Bearing," Ravenmane demands calmly, believing it only to be the trio of Destroyers picking an opportune moment to return from destroying the nuisance squadron.

"Range 900,000 . . . bearing . . . there are four of them, sir."

"Four?!" Ravenmane asks, as possible explanations for the appearance of four ships rather than three. Could Whiptail have captured one of the nuisance ships? Perhaps, but he'd send it back towards home space, wouldn't he? But if it's not the destroyer squadron and a captured ship, then what?

"What are the size classes of those ships?"

"Umm, three are cruiser-class and one is . . . "

"Evasive! It's a trap. Relay information to Slashback."

"Communication still erratic," the Comm-Sergeant replies.

"Accelerating. Vectoring to intercept our fleet," the pilot notes.

From the tactical display on the view screen, it is obvious to all that the Predator's Eye will not reach the fleet before the four incoming vessels reach them. Ravenmane curses himself for stopping his ship once safely out of range of the enemy ships and base. He can see that the incoming ships can easily cut him off from the rest of the Lyran task force.

"Curse those deceitful dogs!" Ravenmane exclaims as he watches the enemy ships, and certain death near. "Identify incoming ships." Maybe its not as bad as it looks.

"Can make out three Battle Cruiser hulls and one frigate hull. Still too distant to distinguish exact variants."

It's as bad as it looks. "Relay information to the fleet. Use the sensors to boost the gain on the comm-channel if you must. Continue acceleration at maximum rate, but vector away from the Kzin fleet."

"But sir, that will take us AWAY from our . . . "

"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant. The base has already sustained enough damage that its special sensors should not present a problem for the fleet. As fleet scout we are too valuable to pointlessly risk ourselves trying to get back to the main group. And we don't want to maneuver in such a way to draw these new ships back to the base. We need to give the Black Rain time to do her job, and the best way to do that is to clear the area and draw these ships away from the base."

"Understood, sir."

"Prepare for inter-system warp," Ravenmane says softly.

For a few moments no one speaks as the ship continues accelerating toward its maximum combat speed.

"Inter-system warp now available," the helmsman says softly.

"Execute!"

***

"The Scout's running for their fleet, sir."

"Intercept course, Commander Windrider. They're too far away from their main fleet elements. Rushwind must have been able to cut them off from the main group. Probably picked this spot to wait since the Destroyers were behind her," Firemane says.

"Sir, the base is crippled," Commander Highclimber says quietly.

"Damn. That's what we were sent to protect. Lock all weapons on the Scout."

"Targeting steady. Nearing maximum range," Commander 'Biter replies, his right claw poised above the weapons activator.

On the view screen, the form of the Predator's Eye suddenly veers straight up, offering a huge target for 'Biter, but vanishes before he can react.

"They jumped?" Lieutenant Halftan asks in disbelief.

"Never overestimate the bravery of a Scout ship captain," Firemane purrs. "Given the situation, it was the proper move."

With the disappearance of their target, Windrider immediately alters course slightly to intercept the other Kzinti ships being chased by the remaining Lyrans, thankful to have the CD relaying the information gathered through its improved sensors.

"Now let's go help Rushwind," Firemane adds.

Highclimber, eyes locked on the forward viewer, shakes his head and sighs, "Too late, sir."

***

Rushwind eyes the numbers on his view screen, and sees the math of the situation in a split second.

"Alter course. Turn right to course two three niner . . . "

The White Dwarf suddenly dips and lurches sideways, the gravity compensator unable to react to the blow struck by the Lyrans. Rushwind is thrown from his command chair two meters into the air, before slamming hard onto the deck as gravity returns, albeit erratically.

The forward view screen shows only static as several consoles spit sparks high into the air, while others just smolder or simply go dead. The devastation on the bridge takes on a surrealistic aura as the red battle lights begin flickering, giving an eerie cast to the growing cloud of smoke filling the room.

Rushwind notices the auto-fire suppression system is not working and rises, rubbing his left shoulder gingerly. He staggers to the near wall as the deck continues to pitch and roll beneath his paws. He slams his right claw onto the manual override for the fire retardant release as the other crew members begin picking themselves up off the floor.

As a fine powder descends to extinguish the flaming equipment, Rushwind moves to the communication console, where Lieutenant Razorfang lies in a pool of blood.

As he steps over an unconscious or perhaps dead crew member, he activates his wrist-comm with his chin, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. "Engineering come in. Underpaw, are you there?"

A voice from behind him answers, "Status board indicates over half of the ship is destroyed. Both starboard weapons mounts are gone. We've lost the impulse engine, some reactor power, two disruptors and two drone racks. Less than two thirds total warp power is still available."

Rushwind turns to regard Commander Peeker. The ship lurches to the right and both officers barely maintain their balance.

"Then we should be still flight capable, but that felt like we're moving rather erratically," Peeker sputters through shattered teeth. He spits blood and teeth out and winces in pain, wondering if part of his tongue is in the red splotch he has just made on the deck.

Commander Amberclaw, sitting with his back against the wreckage of the science console, raises his claw to gain the Captain's attention. Fighting against the pain of his broken ribs, he whispers, "Tractor sir. After the phasers . . . the ESGs hit . . . then detected . . . " He doesn't finish the statement, his head lollingto the side as conciousness flees.

"So, we're crippled and in tow," Rushwind says, regarding the useless remains of the communication console. He turns to Peeker and sighs, "Does anything on this ship still work?"

***

"We've got them!" Slashback purrs, eyeing the Kzinti CC held 20,000kms in front of his ship. "Let the little ones run. We'll kill them at our . . . "

"Incoming force at two-six-five mark five," the Sensor Operator says.

"Whiptail's squadron?" Slashback asks calmly.

"No, sir! Four Kzinti ships. Three cruisers and a frigate."

Slashback's mood changes abruptly, but he remains icily calm, asking, "Three cruisers? As long as they don't consolidate with the destroyer and frigate here, we still outgun them, but we need time to rearm. Hold the White Dwarf where she is. We'll activate our other two ESGs to kill them. Pity. It would have been nice to capture it. Once the CC is destroyed, alter course to oh-nine-five mark nine, maximum acceleration."

"Activating ESGs. Enemy squadron continuing to close."

"Sir, enemy squadron requesting communications."

"Hold the Dwarf outside the ESG bubble when it forms until I give the order to ram it. Put the BC on screen."

The view screen splits in half, displaying the edge of the White Dwarf being pushed ahead of the Predator's Pride, as the rest of the Lyran fleet begins to pull ahead of the large ship. The bright red furry face of Firemane fills the right side of the monitor, a stern expression on his face, with intense anger glowing in his eyes.

"I am Captain Firemane of the Kzinti BC, Ice on Fire. Release the White Dwarf without further harm and I will allow you to withdraw without further hostilities. If you take any further action against the vessel, we will destroy every ship here and kill every Lyran down to the last kitten."

"Brave words from a Captain I've never heard of," Slashback sneers.

The Comm-Sergeant mutes the communication, and Firemane's face disappears from the right half of the screen. "Intercepting audio transmission from White Dwarf."

"Let me hear it."

" . . . 'mane. Don't do it. We're done for. Protect the base. Don't . . . "

Though the rest of the transmission is lost in static, Slashback's ears stand up at the sound of the voice. Even through the static of the unscrambled channel, he recognizes the gruff timbre of Rushwind's voice.

"Re-establish link with that BC," Slashback purrs, his eyes gleaming.

Firemane's face reappears as Slashback's Sensor Operator notes, "Enemy squadron will be in range in ten seconds if we continue towing the White Dwarf."

Slashback snarls at Firemane as he sees the hazy green distortion appear on his viewscreen as the two ESG fields finish forming, "You want me to simply release White Dwarf and the mighty Rushwind? As you wish. Ram it."

"No!" Firemane shouts as Slashback purrs in merriment.

The tractor beam weakens slightly, and the Lyran BC inches forward just enough to strike the White Dwarf with the ESG fields of the Predator's Pride. The Kzinti CC explodes in a crimson fireball of death. Free of its dead weight, the Predator's Pride jumps forward, suddenly matching the speed of the rest of her fleet just ahead.

Slashback waves for the comm-channel to be cut. "We've got to draw them away from the system so Black Rain can do her job," Slashback notes when the channel is closed. "Any word from Predator's Eye?"

"We got a garbled transmission just as we blasted the White Dwarf. Something about a trap, then silence."

"That red cat must have gotten her. He also must have destroyed Whiptail's squadron. We should not underestimate this one. Don't rearm weapons just yet. Divert all power possible to movement and put whatever is left over into recharging batteries, phasers and a little reinforcement on the number five. Turn to present our #5 shields to them. We'll let them nip at our heels for awhile and get clear of the system. Let's see if we can get this one to take our bait like Rushwind did."

***

"They're getting ready to jump," Commander Highclimber informs Firemane.

Firemane grinds his teeth in frustration, knowing he is too far behind the Lyrans to fire effectively. Every ounce of his being wants to destroy the Lyran BC and its evil Captain. Rushwind dead. I was too late to stop it. How can I get revenge? He seethes inside as he watches the cowardly Lyrans flee, just outside his grasp. I'll never hear him speak again, Firemane thinks, his nails digging deep into his chair arm. Though his own family had been dead for many years, Rushwind had become Firemane's only family. I'm an orphan, once more. And again, the Lyrans are responsible. How can I avenge your death, Uncle?

"The Gryphon and 99 are moving to join our formation, sir," Halftan announces.

"Maintain pursuit plot," Firemane spits. How can I make it up to you, Uncle? Firemane burns inside, feeling as much pain inside for his adopted uncle as he felt losing his family to the Lyrans so many years ago. 'Protect the base.' Rushwind's final words echo in Firemane's ears.

"Orders, sir?" 'Biter asks, making Firemane realize he has been silent too long.

"Stand by, 'Biter. If they run, we'll let them go. We're here to protect the base," Firemane says, frustration showing clearly in his tone of voice. He fights internally to extinguish the growing rage of having yet another loved one taken from him by the accursed Lyrans. He does not notice the claws of his right hand drawing blood from his own palms.

"Sir, we're clear of the system, and they've had time, but they aren't jumping," Highclimber points out.

"Range?"

"Barely in disruptor range, sir. But the smaller . . . "

"I know, 'Biter. They don't have our range. And even if we connect, the effect will be negligible." Firemane pauses for only an instant. "Target one disruptor on the frigate. I've got a hunch."

"Locked on."

"Hit her, 'Biter," Firemane says softly.

The multi-colored bolt of energy leaps from the BC, chasing down the small Lyran vessel and striking the aft quarter solidly.

Commander Highclimber pulls his head away from his display as if it suddenly smells bad, and says, "Captain, we hit cleanly, but I detect no reduction in shield strength."

"They're baiting us," Firemane says knowingly. "They're trying to draw us away from the base. But why? They could have destroyed it easily with the force they came with. Why cripple it and leave . . . " Firemane's voice trails off. "Turn us around Windrider. We're going back to the base."

"Aye, sir."

As the six Kzinti ships begin their turn, Highclimber shouts, "Bandits! Two . . . non-Lyran design. Pirates!"

"Evasive."

The six ships, having just begun a turn away from the Lyran fleet, suddenly start turning back toward their sworn enemies.

"I don't believe this, sir. One of those ships has the same design and marking as the one we destroyed -- Glass Inferno, Highclimber announces.

The Sensor Operator's statement is punctuated by an energy blast from the enemy ship, striking the rear shield of the Ice on Fire.

"Great!" Firemane exclaims sarcastically, "Now I've got to fight ghosts. This must have been their surprise. They've allied or hired the pirates and ran to let the thieves get behind us. Send to Gryphon and the frigates, execute an HET. We'll do a brief decel in order to get turned toward the Orions, and try to pincer the thieves."

"Sir, the Lyrans have turned and are coming back," Highclimber points out.

"One disaster at a time, Commander," Firemane answers with a grimace. "I've got a plan for dealing with the Orions."

***

On board Glass Inferno, Captain Ice suppresses the urge to laugh. He had uncloaked earlier than he wanted, and were it not for the Lyrans he would be hightailing it away from the system. But the rust-colored BC has an almost hypnotic effect on him, drawing him toward it like a magnet. Finally, he thinks, a chance for revenge.

"Target that hideous Kzinti BC. Fire disruptors," Ice orders, nodding to his Exec to relay the commands to the LR Escapade shadowing his BR.

The stolen weapons lash out at the BC, punching a hole in its aft shield, but failing to do internal damage.

"The smaller ships have HETed toward us. The cruisers are slowing."

"They're trying to surround us!" Ice responds to his first officer. "Stay behind the cruisers and drop a small mine on my command."

The instructions are carried out as the Glass Inferno maneuvers to stay clear of the Galaxy, Catapult and Ice on Fire spiraling toward them. Ice watches the smaller ships close, knowing their combined firepower is no threat to his Battle Raider. However, if they get too close, the Light Raider could have problems. But as quickly as he considers breaking off, his lust for vengeance forces him to continue forward.

"Now," he snarls.

"Mines away," comes the quick response.

"Turn right to course one zero five mark two," he orders, bringing the two Orion vessels onto an intercept course with the Kzinti cruisers' number three shields.

The Kzinti frigates and destroyer turn to follow. The mines sense the small ships gravitational fields and for a moment the presence of three ships confuse the arming mechanisms, so only a single mine is triggered. The #2 shield of all three ships buckle from the explosion, but prevent internal damage.

The pirate ships are too fast, and it is suddenly obvious the tiny trio will not get any closer, so at 40,000 kilometers, they fire their disruptors and phasers at the twisting Orion Light Raider, but miss wildly with the bolts, only denting the Escapade's rear shield with their minimal phaser suite.

The tactical display shows the five Lyran ships closing on the Gryphon, and frigates 89 & 99, now comfortably behind the Raiders. As the Lyrans close from behind, Ice eyes the three Kzinti cruisers growing on the screen.

"Three on two now. Double everything. Overload all weapons, power tractors and an HET, and put everything else into reinforcement. Close in."

***

"Frigates and Gryphon turning off, sir and heading for base as ordered. Catapult and Galaxy are ready," Halftan says nervously.

The viewscreen shows the pair of Orion ships closing from the right rear. Firemane unconsciously extends and retracts his claws, slowly shredding the fabric on the arm of his chair as the pirates draw near.

"Forty-double-kay," 'Biter announces.

"Hold your fire," Firemane whispers, not to his weapons officer, but to his opponent.

"Thirty . . . twenty-five . . . twenty . . . "

"Execute," Firemane says with a gleam in his eye.

***

On Predator's Pride, Slashback purrs merrily at his luck. Rushwind dead. Black Rain capturing the base. And pirates showing up out of the blue to help take care of these pesky dogs. I've waited a long time for a day like this.

"ESGs recharged," the Weapons Officer says, pulling Slashback back to the present.

"It's about time!"

"Enemy increasing speed."

"What?" Slashback growls, mildly annoyed. "They should be slowing to engage the Orions, not speeding up!"

***

The Ice on Fire reaches out and tractors the Glass Inferno from 20,000 kilometers while in the same instant, the Catapult snags the Escapade.

"Tractors holding!" 'Biter snarls triumphantly.

"Light Raider fire control now locked on the Catapult," Highclimber purrs merrily.

"Drones away from all ships," 'Biter adds with a snort.

"Okay, pirate. Who's the target NOW? The CD, the drones, or us?" Firemane says to the images of the Orion vessels.

***

On the bridge of Glass Inferno, Ice's jaw hangs open, unable to comprehend entirely what has just happened. Though the delay lasts for barely a fraction of a second, in that time he realizes this Kzinti Captain has out-smarted him.

"Ten drones and two shuttles being launched," his Exec announces as the images spew from the cruisers holding the Inferno and the Escapade in place. "The other BC can move to point-blank. Targeting orders?" his Exec almost pleads.

Even as he gives the orders, Ice knows he is beaten. Having expended all of his tractor power and reserve attempting to thwart the Kzin anchor, he knows he and his sister ship do not have enough defenses to stop all the drones. "Tell Driam he's on his own," he sighs, allowing the Captain of his sister ship the chance to choose his poison. Then with a fire in his eyes, he all but screams, "Full alpha on that ugly BC!" He knows as he speaks that it will be his final order.

***

On his forward viewscreen, Firemane watches as the Galaxy moves in behind the ten drones, closing to 10,000 kilometers of the two Orion ships. It launches its four drones and a shuttle an instant before multiple beams and bolts of energy criss-cross the darkness of space between the five vessels. It is the only vessel that receives no damage.

Firemane's claws dig deep into the arms of his chair, which is all that keeps him from flying out of the seat as his ship lurches to the left, smacked hard by the Orion BR. "Report," he demands even before the artificial gravity generator reacts to the sudden change in pitch of the ship.

"Number three shield gone, three phasers, disruptor 'D', ten percent of warp capacity out, and only forty percent of battery capacity survived," WhiteEar responds instantly.

"The other ships?" Firemane asks calmly.

"Galaxy was untouched. Catapult took major hit on number three shield, but no internal damage," WhiteEar adds.

Firemane nods pleasantly as his eyes track the flight of drones in the second it takes before they strike home. Everyone watching tenses as the drones detonate, most smacking the larger BR, though several slam into the LR. When the blasts from the drones clear both Orion ships are still there.

"Yes!" Firemane roars, his tail writhing happily.

"Galaxy firing now," 'Biter purrs, as all watch the untouched BC close to point blank range and carve the remnants of the two pirate vessels to ribbons.

"Battle Raider warp drive completely destroyed. LR still has nominal warp capability," Highclimber says with a hint of concern.

"'Biter," Firemane starts, but never finishes.

A single lance of energy erupts from the Ice on Fire, slicing into the small Orion ship, and robbing it of its last maneuvering power.

"Range to Lyran fleet?" Firemane asks, watching the Galaxy moving ahead of them.

"Ninety-thousand," Highclimber responds instantly. "But not closing."

"This is going to be close," Firemane whispers, watching the tactical display with unwavering concentration. "First the BR, then the light Raider . . . let the BR go . . . now," he says, and in that instant the ship shudders, relieved of the dead hulk's mass.

"BR released," 'Biter confirms unnecessarily.

"Now," Firemane repeats, and the LR slides away behind them as the CD accelerates to catch her sister ships. "Drop mine," he adds in the next breath.

"Open a channel to Gryphon," Firemane says calmly as the Ice on Fire speeds away from the Lyrans. He marvels over his luck at taking out the Orions with his anchor.

"Sir, Gryphon reports the base is being attacked. A troop ship has docked and enemy troops are pouring in . . . "

"Windrider, get us there." Firemane says, through he realizes as he speaks, the ship is already turning that way."

"WhiteEar . . . "

"Already relayed message to Catapult and Galaxy, sir."

"Highclimber, where . . . "

"Lyrans not altering course," the Sensor Operator purrs.

Firemane sits silently for a moment trying to figure out exactly when his crew started reading his mind. He also wonders if he will be in time to save the base.

The Ice on Fire suddenly lurches again, several consoles on the bridge spewing fire and sparks.

"How bad?" he asks gravely, eyeing the forms of the Lyran vessels that just pounded his weak rear shielding.

"Bad," Halftan coughs, waving the smoke billowing from his console away from his face.

"Tell Catapult we need a tow and some protection, but we'll grab her after we see what the Lyrans are going to do."

"Done sir," WhiteEar answers with a flick of his ears.

"Best speed, maximum jamming, and get those shields back up," Firemane orders, while silently thanking The Fates for preventing the Lyrans from getting to 80,000 km where their overloaded disruptors might well have destroyed him.

"Lyrans had to dump several overloads. But they hit with several standard disruptors and a few phasers as well. Orion ships are powerless and shields are now down. Lyrans accelerating," Highclimber announces. "They're veering slightly . . . closing on the derelicts . . . twenty thousand . . . ten thousand . . . "

"'Biter."

The sound of two phasers firing echoes through the ship, as the pair of central phasers lash out from the rear of the Kzinti BC, slicing through the black velvet background of space and finding a new home in the center of the Orion LR Escapade.

The phaser slams into the last remnant of what was once the LRs engineering section. The beam bores through twisted and torn deck-plating, already half-molten from previous damage, until it finally finds the dilithium chamber. The magnetic field collapses, releasing a tiny amount of anti-matter into the acrid air of what used to be engineering. An atom of anti-matter strikes a hydrogen molecule, beginning a chain reaction that turns the ship into a small sun. The Orion suicide bomb detonates, nearly doubling the blast.

The chain reaction does not stop there, as the explosion of the LR expands, engulfing the wasted hulk of the Glass Inferno, some 10,000 kilometers away. Though the same chain-reaction occurs once more, the BRs larger mass provides more raw material to feed the fusion of the particles. The BR's explosion is more spectacular, and its flames reach out, slamming into the forward shields of the entire Lyran task force. Firemane's ears flick in triumph as he watches the ships then plow into the small mine left beside the Orion hulks. He only regrets they were lucky enough to take the mine on different shields.

Before the final blast subsides Firemane is out of his chair, racing for the turbolift. "Halftan, get us to the base in one piece. I'm going to engineering to help Sabretongue. We're short on power, and I know a way to get us some more."

"Aye sir," Halftan sputters as the Captain disappears through the doors.

"Tractor the Catapult," Halftan orders quickly. He flops awkwardly into the command chair as the tractor snags the CD, causing the Ice on Fire to suddenly accelerate.

"The ship explosions took the forward shields down on the CL and FF. The frigate took more internal damage and the other ships took severe damage to their forward shields," Highclimber advises Halftan.

"Let's hope it slows them down some," the acting Captain replies, eyeing the forms of the Lyran ships on the viewscreen nervously.

***

I was a fool, Slashback berates himself. Too anxious to close ground rather than skirt the derelicts. I didn't give this Kzin dog enough credit. I'll not make that mistake again. "Tanglemane, order all ships to slow to warp two point four and fill all capacitors. Put any additional power into shield repair."

"But they'll get away!" Tanglemane protests.

Slashback all but leaps out of his chair and is standing beside his Exec in a flash, close enough to smell the Commander's breath. Fool! I don't care who your sire is or what political connections you have. "If we chase, they will surely drop every mine they have, real and pseudo, to damage our shields and steal our ESG energy. And once our ESGs are down, their drone racks will be reloaded, and we will be forced back. Yes, we could chase and plink at the ugly BC, while their fleet plinks at the down shields of our CL and frigate. That will not help the Black Rain do her job. We will wait, and then approach the base fully armed and ready with transporters energized to add our boarding parties to those already on the base. Does that plan meet with your approval?" Slashback growls the last words at his Exec.

Tanglemane pauses, fighting to keep the fear in his mind from showing in his face. "Uh, yes sir."

"Good!" Slashback snarls loudly, and then whispers just loud enough for the crewmen immediately on either side of them to hear, "If you ever contradict an order of mine again, I'll have you spaced."

Tanglemane nods almost imperceptibly before immediately returning his attention to his instruments to carry out the Captain's orders.

Slashback moves back to his chair questioning his own decision. Perhaps Tanglemane is correct. It's five ships to five ships if we continue this battle. And the Kzinti drone racks must be running dry. If I hadn't walked into the BR-bomb . . .

He eyes the forms of the Kzinti ships slowly moving away from them on the forward viewscreen and sighs. Perhaps we have already given Black Rain the time to do her job. If I only knew what was going on at the base.

***

Assistant Base Commander Treeclimber helps two junior Lieutenants pull a large slab of plastaform off the Tactical Staff Sergeant. Though the fires are out and the fire suppression powder has stopped falling from the canisters in the ceiling, the Central Command Post of the base is still filled with smoke. As the work continues, the faint sound of yet another internal explosion echoes through the base. The red emergency lighting gives the room an eerie glow, making the moment just a little grimmer for the Commander when he discovers the Sergeant is quite dead.

"Lieutenant, go into Bluetail's office. There is a hard copy printout of the base hierarchy on his desk. We need to find out who's next in line to act as Tactical Commander that can still function. With the damage we've sustained there is no telling how deep on that list we will need to go. Take that list and find out who it is, and bring them here," Treeclimber coughs, as he tries to rub the smoke-induced tears from his eyes, but only succeeds in spreading around the grime and soot on his face more thoroughly.

"Sir, why not use the P/A?"

"Internal communications are totally out. Until they're restored we're going to have to make due with runners. Now go!" Treeclimber hisses irritably.

The Lieutenant hurries away as the Assistant Base Commander surveys the remains of what had only minutes before been a pristine command post. The equipment is a shambles, with power out in almost every section of the base. The first thing we need is power.

"Commander," a voice calls from behind.

Turning, Treeclimber is happy to see the Engineering Commander approaching. He notices the bloody swath of bandages around the Chief's left paw, and that the Engineer is walking with a distinct limp, but is thankful that The Fates choose to spare the closest thing he has to a friend on the base.

"Stumpy. What's the prognosis?"

"Not good. Power is critically low. We've got less total power than your typical destroyer at this point. Pylon one is completely trashed, as well as the bulk of the central structure. Basically, we're a sitting duck with little power and fewer weapons."

"So, start repairing it."

"It's not that simple. In order to conduct repairs, we have to bypass the auto-defense programs. Normally that's just a matter of telling the computer what we're doing with the proper passwords, but most of the computer is scrap, and what's not scrap ought to be. I've tried repeatedly to disarm individual components of the defense system to affect repairs, but the computer won't recognize any of those commands. And when I asked it what I could disarm, the only option it gave me was to completely disengage the intruder control system. And that means the only way I can start repairs is to manually disarm the entire intruder control system, including the auto-destruct."

"And you can't do that without Bluetail's consent."

"Precisely. By the way, sir, where is the Base Commander?"

Treeclimber sighs. "After the overrun, he was certain the Lyrans were planning to board, else we would have been destroyed already. Since the comm system is out, he went to coordinate with the Marine contingent personally."

"Personally?" The Engineer questions. "Why not send a runner?"

"I voiced those same objections, Stumpy. But he was adamant that he needed to know precisely where the Marines would be positioning themselves in order to handle any support logistics that might arise. Anyway, I couldn't talk him out of it, and he left me in charge until his return."

"Well, under the circumstances, you can authorize my request."

Treeclimber eyes his friend, considering the import of his decision. "If I knew how the battle was going . . . but our tactical board is shot -- sensors, scanners, and communications are all off line. The only way we have to tell what's going on outside is to go look out a window."

"You may be overlooking something."

"What?"

"The freighter."

"Did she survive the assault?"

"Survive it? Hells, she's not even scratched. She was still docked when they struck, but she was on the exact opposite side of the base from where they attacked. I heard some crewmen mentioning it while I was on my way up here," he finishes, answering the Commander's next question.

"If they were unscathed, then they still have sensors, tactical readouts, and communications! Could we link our priority one wrist-comms through her comm-processor?"

"Yeah. It would only take a couple of minor adjustments. But something more important. Her engines are still running. We can hook her up, and bleed off the power we need until we get the mains back on line."

"Do it. I believe the Captain's name is . . . Hammerclaw."

"Hammerclaw. Got it. By the way. Any priorities on repairs?"

"The shields and heavy phasers. With the size of the fleet that attacked, we shouldn't be here. And I don't think even with Rushwind leading our forces they can beat them. There were just too many. I suspect they'll be back to finish the job, but I don't want to make it easy on them."

"If there were that many of them, why did they leave us?"

"Maybe they were saving their firepower to deal with Rushwind. I don't know. Just go get us hooked up to that freighter. I may not know why they didn't finish us when they had the chance, but I'm sure they'll be back. Trust me."

"Aye, sir," the Engineer salutes before he limps away.

***

"Captain, the picture is getting murkier. Slashback has managed to cripple the base and destroy the main defensive force, but another contingent of Kzinti ships are racing to engage them," the Sensor Operator assesses as he looks up from his instruments to report to his Captain.

"Yes, number one. The pigs have tried to lay a trap, but Slashback is too smart for them. He'll draw them away from the base, and then we shall move in. Are the troops ready?" Captain Redsniffer asks.

"Affirmative."

"Excellent. See. Slashback runs now, drawing the fools away from the base. In just a few . . . "

"Picking up two more ships, sir."

"What?"

"Not of Kzinti design. Klingon maybe . . . no . . . it's a pirate design. They've moved in behind the Kzinti ships and are accelerating."

Captain Redsniffer purrs, "The Fates are with us today. The pirates show up to scavenge our battle. That should keep the pigs tied up for awhile. Move in to the base. We'll dock on the damaged side. No active weaponry or soldiers. Once on board, we'll take main engineering and the Central Command Complex, and the base will be ours.

The Black Rain's engines come to life and push the small ship toward the base below as Redsniffer continues to purr in merriment. This will be a great day for the Lyran Empire. Today we capture a base. And soon we will be blasting away at their home worlds.

***

"Throw the switch."

The technician inhales, closes his eyes, and complies with the order from Chief Stumptail. The red emergency lights flicker and go out, being replaced in the same instant by the normal full spectrum lighting of the base. Several consoles come to life as well, seeming to blink their displeasure or excitement at being awakened. The most comforting sound, though, is that of the ventilation motors cranking up, and the feel of fresh air being pumped into main engineering once more.

A hearty cheer goes up from the dozen or so technicians present. The Chief Engineer touches his wrist-comm, "Commander Treeclimber, we have partial power restored and priority one wrist-comm channels are active."

The obviously pleased reply comes instantly, "Fantastic. Now how about those shields. And after that, work on the phasers."

"I've already got my crew working on the phasers, sir. And the shield generator should be on line in about two minutes, though it will take about half an hour to completely repair our down shield. But without the main reactors, we might as well be wrapped in feathers and throwing spears. The freighter just doesn't have enough power to do more than give us a minor boost in total power."

"Understood. Hold on while I see if I can get Bluetail's okay." Treeclimber adjusts his wrist-comm slightly. "Captain Bluetail, come in."

There is a very brief pause and then a coughing and hacking voice responds. "Tr . . . Tree . . . sabotage . . . all . . . all the Mar . . . Marines are dead. I was . . . caught in the blast."

Treeclimber understands immediately. "Sir, where are you? I'll get a medic to . . . "

Bluetail responds before he can complete the sentance. "Don't waste the . . . effort. I'll live . . . but what is our . . . status?"

"We wired the base comm-system and sensor relays into the freighter's systems. I'm reviewing the tactical right now. Seems that the Lyrans have fled."

"Really?" Bluetail's voice shows genuine surprise. "Well, that's good. Anything else?"

The Chief needs to take the intruder control system off-line in order to conduct repairs. He was wanting authorization."

"Not much left to defend. If the Lyrans have . . . left then . . . okay, I'll risk it. Disable the auto-destruct and get the mains back up. But be quick about it. And once the mains are back on line . . . "

"I know -- have the Chief restore auto-destruct and intruder control."

"Yes."

"As good as done, sir. Treeclimber out."

"Chief, did you get all that?"

"Aye. I'll get right on it. Stumptail out."

"Treeclimber out."

Stumptail turns to the odd looking Chief Engineer of the freighter, pondering the cat's sanity due to his electric blue fur and red mohawk, but impressed with the Engineer's skill.

"Thanks for your help, Highleaper."

"Glad to be of assistance. I'll go back on board the H.D. and see if I can crank out a little more power to aid you in your repair efforts."

"I appreciate that, Chief. We need everything you've got."

"Aye," Highleaper salutes as he exits the crumpled remains of the Base's Main Engineering Deck and makes his way back to his freighter.

In the Central Command Post, Commander Treeclimber orders the last remaining junior Lieutenant to find Bluetail and get him to Medical before returning his attention to the static-filled images of the surrounding area on the one small video monitor still working. The space is empty, except for some scattered debris. He starts when a cat behind him clears his throat.

"Thank you for your assistance, Captain Hammerclaw," the Commander says, fighting to keep a neutral look on his face while looking at the calico cat wearing a green and gold cape, purple scarf, and stove pipe hat. I think we can handle it from here, though."

"If you so desire, Commander. But let it not be said that Hammerclaw and those that serve me were not willing to serve the cause in a time of need. My comrades are able and willing and ready to answer the call whenever and wherever it may come."

"Uh, yes. Thank you again, Captain. You're dismissed," the Commander sputters and turns his back on the bizarre cat.

Though Hammerclaw continues his oration, Treeclimber is pleased to note the Captain's voice receding toward the exit from the Central Command Post. He tunes Hammerclaw out and reflects on the knowledge that it is the remains of the White Dwarf which are scattered across the black sky. The freighter had replayed her tapes of the combat after the base was struck. The knowledge that Rushwind has been vanquished sends a shiver down Treeclimber's spine.

If they managed to kill Rushwind and White Dwarf, he wonders, How can that kit leading them now hope to succeed? I sure hope the reinforcements get here soon. He lets the thought pass and waves the crewman over who just walked in, knowing it will not do to dwell on what's going on outside. He has more than enough to keep him busy inside.

Before the crewman reaches him, though, he notices an image on the small monitor before him. That looks like . . . He slaps his wrist-comm, "Battlestations. Battlestations. Inform all crew members to prepare for boarding action. Repeat, prepare to be boarded." He slaps the channel closed, hoping the few cats with priority one wrist-comms will get the word to enough of the base personnel to do some good.

He knows, however, that even if the P/A were working, it wouldn't matter. There are not enough arms or able bodies to repel a full scale boarding action. As he watches the image of Black Rain swoop down on them, he knows that is exactly what is coming.

Activating his wrist-comm again, he pleads for help, "Chief, can you get the intruder control system operational?"

The communicator issues forth a series of curses as Treeclimber hears the tail end of the Chief verbally abusing a junior officer for some recent gaffe. "Not a chance," Redsniffer snaps when his tirade ends. "Some of the hardware may still be usable, but the control program is gone -- wiped totally."

"Wiped totally? How could that . . . "

"We have a saboteur on board sir. Though I have no idea who it could be at present. We can reload the control program from backup crystals, but that will take twenty minutes -- if the backups are intact."

"We don't have twenty minutes. We have two."

"Two? You're out of your mind. I'd need an unscathed computer with an I.C. program in resident memory to get . . . "

"My ship has an Intruder Control Program," Hammerclaw says, startling Treeclimber. The Assistant Base Commander turns, about to tell the eccentric Captain to leave him alone and go tend to his ship, when Stumptail's voice responds to Hammerclaw's suggestion. "Yes. It may work. Since we're already hooked up to her power and comm-systems, it should be relatively simple to use her computer too, but I don't know hot it will adapt to the base's defense systems or how it will tell friendlies from enemies. Actually, I have no idea what type of I.C. program freighters use."

"Try it. We don't a have choice."

Closing the channel, Treeclimber leans uncomfortably on the console before him. He can only watch helplessly as the Lyran ship slows and moves toward the gaping hole that used to be pylon one.

***

"Let's make this quick and painful cats," the Lyran Commando Squad Leader says, waving the barrel of his phaser at the holomap of the base over his head. "The two sections highlighted in red are our objectives. The first is the Central Command Post, the other -- Main Engineering. As you can see, Engineering is on the opposite side of the base. Squads one, three, and five will take the counter-clockwise corridors. Two, four and six go clockwise. Seven and eight take the main cross corridor straight to the Central Command Post. Remember, this is our base now, so treat it well. Keep energy blasts to a minimum until we reach our objectives. There will be no weapons use once we gain entry to either of our goals. We want to repair and reactivate shields and weapons ASAP, so it won't do us much good to go blowing them up by accident. I know this may increase casualties, but they've already taken a lot of damage, so we almost certainly will have a much reduced defensive force to deal with."

"Ten seconds to docking," the P/A interrupts the Squad Leader's speech. He pulls down the blue-tinted face plate of his skin tight, black commando suit, and locks it. The troops do likewise, and draw their sidearms as a unit, except for a select few carrying sacks of explosives to take care of any barricades they may encounter.

A gentle nudge rocks the floor beneath them, and the soldiers tense, ready to spring when the cargo bay doors open. When the seam in the center of the doors is broken, the forty by twenty panels retract quickly above and below the deck the troops are poised on. But instead of a massive onslaught of fire from an opposing force, the squads see only an empty ravaged shuttle bay, the charred remains of a melted shuttle lying immobile just right of center in the hangar.

While the Squad Leader was prepared to dive into the fray at the first blast from the enemy he expected, the absence of a Kzinti greeting party disturbs him. He hesitates a moment, trying to discern some clue of the Kzintis' plan from the nearly empty hangar. Seeing no other options immediately available, the officer motions with his gun and the large contingent of soldiers leap from their ship into the damaged hangar.

Though they are aware of the atmospheric envelope the Black Rain generates, all use their internal life support systems, being all too familiar with the effects of Kzinti nerve gas. Once in the bay, silence and inaction continues to reign supreme, making the Squad Leader even more wary. The troops spread out quickly and efficiently, just as they have a thousand time before in drills, but there are no tricks or traps hidden in the hangar.

"Okay. They may have been caught unawares, or more likely, they've fallen back to a fortified position farther in the base. You all know your jobs. Let's do it!" the Leader demands over the short wave radio in the suit's helmet, though inwardly he grows increasingly uneasy over the lack of resistance. The groups file rapidly into the empty corridor outside the shuttle bay. The eerie quiet and lack of response makes some wonder if everyone on the base has already been killed or if the base has been abandoned. The soldiers break up into their attack squads and begin moving deeper into the base.

***

"Here goes nothing," Stumptail mutters as he activates the freighter's Intruder Control Program.

"Well? Is it working?" Treeclimber asks as he peers over the Chief's shoulder in the crowded confines in Engineering. Most of the injured and unable to fight are aboard the freighter, prepared to leave if the Lyrans seize control of the base. Those still able to fight are crowded in and around the normally spacious Engineering deck.

"There's no way to tell, yet. It'll have to pick targets and then select appropriate responses, but this is the damnedest I.C.P. I've ever seen. It looks like it was designed for protecting a planetary base, not a freighter. There's some level of Artificial Intelligence built in, so it should have the ability to adapt and learn from how the Lyrans react, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

"Are you sure that they can't accomplish anything from Central Command?"

"The Engineer glares at the Assistant Base Commander, "For the umpteenth time, yes! Most of it was destroyed already. The only leads into the CCP still active are the Intruder Control processors. The room is useless, but they'll spend hours trying to get something to work. That'll occupy some of them at least."

Treeclimber fidgets nervously, wishing he could see where the enemy forces are. As if by magic one of the monitors comes to life showing a small contingent of Lyran soldiers moving down a curved corridor.

"Hey, that monitor just came back on line," he points out.

The Chief rolls his eyes at Treeclimber, "The monitor was on line the entire time. It's the receptor that just came back on line. We lost the entire input grid during the attack. Probably just a minor short circuit in that particular pick-up brought it back on . . . " The Chief halts his sentence as another monitor comes to life, and then a third.

"The whole grid's coming back up. Well I'll be."

"What? How?" the confused Commander asks.

"The I.C.P. I think it's rerouting some of the power couplings to activate the surveillance system so it can locate the enemy. It needs eyes and ears, and I think it just got them."

"Can it do that?"

"It just did," the Chief says, enthralled.

As the stunned cats watch, the computer begins its attack on the Lyran forces infesting the base.

***

A mini-squad commander stops his troops just short of an intersection of two corridors. "Okay Lowtracker, check it out," he commands, though he taps the side of his helmet as a burst of static comes over the channel. A small, but nimble Ensign slinks forward, staying close to the corridor wall. He glances ever so quickly around the corner and immediately jerks his head back. He waves his gloved claw in front of his visor to indicate 'all clear'.

The squad starts across the corridor only to find themselves in the midst of a crossfire of automated guns, firing short rapid burst of energy at them. Though the engagement last less than five seconds, eight of the twenty cats are killed or injured before the enemy guns are located and destroyed. The first killed is the scout.

With nearly half his force wiped out, the mini-squad leader slows his advance on engineering considerably, fearing another ambush. He doesn't realize that he is only giving the computer more time to figure out a way to defeat him.

***

"Did you see that?" Treeclimber shouts joyously. "It wiped out a third of their attacking force."

"Yes. But now they are most cautious. They'll be looking for sensor pick-ups . . . see, on monitor nine. That's a can of freezone. It'll block that sensors input for a couple of hours without actually damaging it." The monitor goes dead, and is followed quickly by many others as the cans of freezone appear almost magically in the hands of the Lyrans.

"Now the computer's eyes and ears are gone. I doubt it can do much more now. Even with their reduced forces they still have more than enough to overwhelm us."

"Are you sure we can't self-destruct?"

"Dammit, I told you. If they get close I can destroy the reactor core, which will flood this compartment with radiation and make the power supply totally useless to the pigs, but once I took the auto-destruct off line, there was no way to vaporize the base. The best we can do is leave a large hollow donut for them."

"Maybe the computer can kill some more of them."

"I doubt it."

***

The Commando Squad Leader curses at himself for his stupidity. A third of his cats are out of action, but finally he is at the Central Command Post. He speaks into his helmet transceiver, but his words turn into an unintelligible hiss. Realizing the comm-link is being jammed, he motions for the demolition's expert to do his job. The small cat crawls up to the door to the Command Post and as he is about to place his small explosive on the door, it opens.

The cat rolls immediately out of the way as the others dive to the sides of the corridor. All wait nearly ten seconds for the Kzinti fire they expect. None comes.

The Squad Leader dives into the large circular room, rolling across the floor, looking for targets to attack, but realizes quickly that the Command Post is deserted. He waits a moment, then motions for the rest of his team to enter. Once the last soldier enters, the door slides shut behind them and the lights go off.

"Activate infra-red," the Leader says calmly, but shakes his head in pain at the horrible high pitched squeal that assaults his ears. He activates the infra-red pick-up in his visor, and is pleased to find that his soldiers have already done likewise. He motions for the squad to spread out and look for booby-traps, and waves the demolition's expert toward the door on the far side of the room.

He motions for the two computer experts to examine the main control panel. The pair of technicians pull some tools off their utility belts as they move to the console. One waves a small device over the console, and with his transceiver off, says, "There's still some juice left in this baby. I think we can reactivate it."

They start to remove the top of the console, but are instantly hurled back ten meters as a huge jolt of electricity strikes them. The arcing blue flame momentarily blinds those looking that way. In the next instant the demolition's expert explodes, sending shrapnel across the room in all directions.

The squad leader finds himself on his back, his right shoulder on fire. Turning to look, he realizes he cannot see anything, his infra-red visor apparently malfunctioning. The pain searing through his right arm, makes him gasp, though the act of drawing breath is a labor in and of itself.

He gets up, using only his left arm to right himself. With his pressure suit obviously punctured, he raises his face plate to speak. He hears a clamor of voices, most obviously in pain. "Activate suit lights. Several cats comply, as blue lights are activated on the tops and sides of their helmets. The Squad Leader's fails to activate, but when one of the still mobile cats moves toward him, he looks down to examine his shoulder. He goes into shock immediately when he realizes his arm is no longer there.

Through the haze of shock, some small part of him realizes the air in the command post is thinning. He looks blankly at the Ensign standing before him screaming his name, and then passes out.

***

"What was that?"

"It sounded like one hell of an explosion. Let me see if the I.C.P. will tell me what it did," the Chief answers, pecking at the keyboard, trying to access the inner workings of the program that is fighting so valiantly to save the base.

"Oh, gods . . . it found their remote detonation frequency."

"The what?" Treeclimber asks.

The Chief is too enthralled with the program to answer immediately. After Treeclimber asks several times what is happening, the Chief finally replies almost cheerfully, as if he enjoys saying the words out loud because he is having so much difficulty believing what is transpiring.

"The Lyrans use remote control detonators for blasting through barricades. That means they have a frequency that will detonate a given explosive once its been armed. According to the logic log it monitored the frequency used when the cats blew down the barricades on the northern corridor. Then it just kept transmitting intermittent bursts in that general wave band. Apparently, one of the squads armed an explosive, and the computer set it off."

"Before they Lyrans were ready?"

"Almost certainly."

"I've never heard of anyone trying that before."

"Neither have I, but it's brilliant. Wait . . . look at this. They're closing in on the southern arm. Better tell your troops to be ready." The Chief pauses, puzzling over a new tactic.

"What's it doing now?"

"I'm . . . I'm not sure. It looks like it's trying to create a high pressure area here at the end of the hall, and a low pressure area there at the other end, but I don't . . . Hey! It's trying to create a whirlwind."

"Huh?"

The Chief is actively excited at the newest development, while the Base Commander grows increasingly confused. "I told you this acts like a ground defense program. Well, atmospheric control has been theorized as a tactical weapon to utilize in ground defense. I once read where it was postulated that given the correct circumstances, you could call up a tornado to come scoop up your enemies and dump them in the sea."

"The computer is trying to create a tornado?" Treeclimber asks in disbelief.

"It's trying. I don't know how much success it will have, though."

***

"We're almost there," the mini-squad leader shouts, though his words are barely audible through the muffling effect of his air-tight helmet. He growls his displeasure at the Kzintis' success at jamming their communications frequency. Though the traps left by his enemy have taken out several of his troops, his contingent is mostly intact still.

He pokes his head around the final turn heading to main engineering and spots the sensor pick-up at the far end of the hall instantly. He draws his can of freezone for the last time. He activates the spray and without looking pokes the can around the corner in the general direction of the sensor pick-up. A laser blast turns the can into a small ball of fire, and the Commander yanks his seared claw back screaming.

With his suit ruptured, he knows he is vulnerable to gas attacks, and motions for his second to take command as he leans back against the bulkhead in pain. The feeling of a strong breeze on his exposed claw is his first hint that the Kzinti are trying something else.

The Second Lieutenant moves to his side to get any final orders, but has trouble taking the last two steps. The corridor suddenly becomes a tempest, as a water main bursts overhead, spraying water down upon the cats. Normally, this would have been no consideration at all, but the tiny droplets are taken by the increasing wind building up in the hallway and are propelled in haphazard fashion at nearly one hundred kilometers per hour.

Gravity suddenly disappears from the hallway, and in the instant it takes for the auto-gravity compensators built into their suits to activate, many are picked up by the wind and thrown into the corridor walls. The water coating the floors, walls and ceiling reduce the ability of the cats to maintain their feet, and half of the force is put out of action before they can adjust to the storm raging in the hallway.

Those that are left, hurry through the cyclone to the barricade at the end of the hall. One of them pulls out an explosive and affixes a detonator to it. As he is attaching it to the barricade it goes off.

The blast shocks those in Engineering despite the reports being relayed by Chief Stumptail. When the smoke clears a small band of Kzinti troops stream into the corridor only to find a pile of wet, shattered Lyran bodies. When the last few Lyrans break through the opposite barricade moments later, they are rapidly dispatched by the small band of Kzinti militia serving as the base's last defense.

As the dust settles and everyone nervously waits for the next barrage, it is Chief Stumptail that breaks the silence. "That seems to be it."

"You mean just those two small bands of Lyrans made it through the Intruder Control system?"

"According to the program, yes," Stumptail beams.

"We've done it. We've saved the base!" Treeclimber shouts loud enough for all to hear. A roar of approval rises in response to his announcement.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Commander?" Stumptail asks.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You've destroyed their entire boarding force, but that transport is still docked to the base."

"What am I supposed to do about that?" the Commander asks, fearing the base is still in danger.

"Well, capture it, of course," Stumptail smirks.

***

"Captain Firemane, Gryphon is chasing a Lyran ship away from the base, but it appears she cannot keep up. I think they'll escape."

"Let them," Firemane responds, examining the tactical readout on the base carefully. He shivers as the computer assessment of the condition of the base is displayed. "Park us beside the base, and tell Gryphon and the frigates to get back here. There are still five Lyran ships out there, and I bet they're headed our way."

"Affirmative," Highclimber says.

"We outnumber them," Halftan assesses, "but they're larger than we are. It's just about an even battle."

"Which is a sight better than when we started, Lieutenant. We'll form a defensive ring around the base, and stop movement. We'll be easy to target, but we'll have a lot more power to reinforce the shields. We also still have the Catapult's special sensors to give us an electronic edge, since their scout has fled."

The Ice on Fire swoops to a halt just above the base as the Galaxy parks under and to the right of the BC. Catapult reaches the base only moments later, and turns around, taking a defensive position much like the BC. As the frigates and DD Gryphon arc around to return to the base, the Lyrans appear in the opposite quadrant, speeding rapidly toward the base.

"Launch drones. Mix in a few . . . "

"Sir! Another ship . . . dropping out of warp space directly overhead," Highclimber interrupts.

"Did they bring their entire fleet to attack this base?" Firemane moans.

"Sir! It's ours!" Highclimber purrs.

Firemane brightens visibly. "It's about time we had the upper claw."

"Communication requested from the Medium Cruiser, sir," WhiteEar says cheerily.

"On screen."

Firemane cannot mask his happiness when the face of the Captain of the Kzinti reinforcement appears on his viewscreen.

"Captain Bristlewind of the Medium Cruiser Ripper at your service, sir."

"Nice timing, Captain," Firemane beams. "We could use some help with the incoming Lyran fleet. Join up with us and prepare to engage the enemy," Firemane orders with obviously feigned military decorum.

"Aye, sir," Bristlewind responds with a twinkle in his eye just before the channel is closed.

***

"Captain Slashback, another enemy ship, just dropping out of warp space above the system. The hull design does not coincide with anything in our computer banks, though its tonnage is comparable to that of a light cruiser."

Slashback curses and slams his claw down on his armrest in rage. His anger swells up inside of him like a cancer, and every fiber in his being wants to disregard the new threat and attack the base, but Slashback knows his five ships will not last long against six ships, even if several are damaged.

"Have you gotten through to Black Rain?"

"Captain Redsniffer on audio now."

"Report Captain," Slashback orders.

"Sir, we were unsuccessful in our attempt to capture the base. Apparently, our saboteur was unable to disable the intruder control system. We were forced to withdraw."

Slashback curses the troop ship captain then waves for the channel to be closed.

"Sir, Kzinti ships around base launching drones toward us," Tanglemane announces.

"Helm, get us out of here. Top speed. Execute transition at minimum safety limits." As the Predator's Pride and the other four Lyran ships veer away from the base, Slashback growls quietly at the forms of the Kzinti ships on his viewer. His lip curls back in disgust as his eyes pick out the rust colored BC leading the enemy contingent. We will meet again, pig. And I shall destroy your hideous excuse for a space vessel, Slashback silently vows as the quintet of Lyran war ships clear the gravitational pull of the system and disappear into warp space.

***

"I don't know why it's not disengaging, Commander," the Chief growls irritably as his claws continue to peck at the control console before him. "But it does appear that the ICP is starting to target base personnel."

"Well, stop it!" Treeclimber pleads.

"Captain . . . Hammerclaw, wasn't it? How do you deactivate this program?"

The calico Captain steps up with crisp military precision, salutes the Engineer and states with confident authority. "I have no idea, sir."

"What?" A dozen different cats ask in unison.

"We've had problems in the past in this regard, sir. It seems that . . . "

The Chief steps by the strange looking Kzin and grabs a thick, blue cable, giving it a hard yank. The lights flicker several times before changing to standard emergency red.

"What did you do, Chief?" Treeclimber asks warily.

"I unplugged the damned thing," he snorts. "But I'd suggest we get that freighter out of here before it decides to tap back into our system on a broadcast frequency."

Treeclimber pauses a moment, then turns to Hammerclaw abruptly. "You heard the Chief. Get that ship out of here, Pronto!"

Hammerclaw salutes and marches away purposefully toward the docking ring.

As Hammerclaw exits Engineering, Treeclimber activates his wrist-comm. "Treeclimber to Medbay." He waits patiently, but receives no reply.

"Remember, we were running the comm-system thru the freighter. We're back to using runners," Stumptail reminds the Commander.

"Damn! I was wanting to find out how Bluetail is doing."

***

" . . . and finally, a special Commendation for ingenuity and resourcefulness under enemy fire is awarded to Captain Hammerclaw-K'tzelli formerly of the freighter KLF-8162. Captain Hammerclaw has accepted a position as Captain of a police ship where he will continue to serve the needs of the Empire, in a larger capacity, I am sure."

The howls and roars are mixed with purrs as Hammerclaw rises to accept the praise, removing his hat to reveal an utterly bald head. Once the applause dies down, the Tiger-striped Admiral concludes the meeting and the crowd disperses quickly.

Bristlewind and Firemane talk as they exit the arena on their way to the scheduled celebration feast. "Cheer up Red. You're a hero. No need to be so glum."

"I know. It's just . . . "

"Rushwind."

"Yeah." Firemane mopes.

"Listen, Red. We all have to move onto the next life eventually, and I don't think he could have wanted a better exit than the one he got. He enjoyed teaching, sure. But you can't tell me he didn't miss the thrill of combat. I remember his classes, and the way he use to really get charged up when he talked about pitting himself against a crafty opponent."

"I know, I know, Windi. I'm not sad for him. I'm sad for me. It's almost like losing my father all over again. I just miss the chance to talk tactics with him, or beat him in a good game of chess."

"Hey, you can beat me in a good game of chess now and then."

"I said good game," Firemane jokes, bringing a flick to Bristlewind's ears.

"Captains!" a loud, gruff voice calls from behind.

The two friends turn and are surprised to see Admiral Quicksilver addressing them. "Good evening, Admiral," the two friends say in unison, then turn their heads and survey each other in mirror image.

"I wanted to congratulate you both personally on a job well done," the Admiral says, saluting the junior officers.

"Thank you sir," Bristlewind responds, "but I didn't really do anything but show up in a ship that wasn't even finished."

"But it was enough, now wasn't it?"

"I guess so," Bristlewind nods, stifling a purr at the look on Firemane's face at hearing the Medium Cruiser was not at one hundred percent.

"Getting your CM there in time may very well have been the reason the Lyrans withdrew, Captain. And we are lucky that they did not put your ship to the test, being that most of the weapon systems were not yet active. However, there is something else I though you might be interested in. We have recently determined exactly who it was who altered your orders for your Space Acclimation Cruise just before you graduated the Institute."

Both Captains perk up, their attention totally on the Admiral. "Who?" they ask, in unison once again.

"Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to say. It might compromise the methods and operatives we used to uncover the culprit. However, I can assure you that steps have been taken to properly punish the individual in question."

***

"What do you think of our new Captain, Digger?"

"I don't know," the calico cat responds irritably. "I don't see why they wouldn't let me go with uncle. It was my program that saved the base. He just suggested using it, anyway."

Yellowfang shrugs and returns to his post, only an instant before the doors to the bridge of the freighter open and an imposing orange cat walks into the room.

"Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. I, Starchaser, am your new Captain, and your days of rest and relaxation are over. From now on this ship will be run in a military manner with proper attitude and decorum maintained at all times."

The bridge is deadly silent as Starchaser makes his way through the maze of crates to his Captain's chair. "Central Command is sending a team of Computer Experts to come take a look at our Intruder Control Program, due to its usefullness in preventing the capture of Battlestation #14. I have taken the liberty of reviewing the computer logs from the last few months for this pitiful excuse for a garbage scow. And the first thing that's going to happen is we're going to get rid of all these games you've been playing. These computer wonks are NOT going to walk in and find any trace of gaming software. I do not want them to have to wade through four million terrabytes of gaming software to find the damned ICP protocols, which I've been unable to find myself. Every bit of gaming software is history!" Starchaser fairly snarls this last point.

Digger shudders visibly, which brings a gruesome smile to Starchaser's lips. "You're the computer 'expert', Digger, so this task falls to you."

Digger nods imperceptibly.

"Erase all entertainment software from computer memory now. That includes games, vids, literature, music, everything."

"But . . . "

Starchaser leaps to his feet and roars so loud that those on the bridge would not have been surprised to find that their new Captain could have been heard in the next quadrant.

"YOU WILL NEVER QUESTION ANY ORDER I GIVE YOU NOW OR IN THE FUTURE -- IS THAT UNDERSTOOD???!!!!"

"Yes, sir," Digger squeaks as he turns and begins rapidly pressing buttons on his console. The last file he deletes is Galactic Conquest. His claw is visibly shaking when he presses the final button.

The lights go out. Every console on the bridge goes dead. The unmistakable sound of reactor generators winding down echoes through the pitch black bridge. No one on the bridge dares to make a sound, so all hear their new Captain whisper through clenched teeth, "I'll kill them. I don't know how, but some day, I'll kill them both."

***