[Y168 - FLEET COMMAND CENTER]

"Come in Commander Firemane. Have a seat," Vice Admiral Glowmane says cordially.

The red furred Kzinti complies with the command and examines the face of the tan furred Admiral before him. Firemane senses apprehension from the golden cat behind the desk. As Firemane sits, the Admiral stands, turning his back to Firemane, while gazing out the glass that makes up his rear wall. He looks at the ships docked within the Starbase and ponders their fate in the coming war.

Firemane shifts in his chair as the silence hangs in the air. The Admiral takes a deep breath before turning and speaking.

"Commander, you've accomplished quite a bit in your career, so far."

"Yes, sir. I'd like to think so."

"Your engine doubling trick helped end the war with the Klingons six years ago. The 'Al Rashid incident' was a major factor in the treaty negotiations with the Federation. Your propulsion theories have helped our scientists increase our drone speed as well. You're something more than just an ordinary over-achiever."

"Thank you, sir." Firemane responds cautiously, wondering why the Admiral is stroking his fur.

"And you've served with distinction these last two yours aboard the White Dwarf."

Firemane nods as the Admiral pauses to take a breath.

You may or may not thank me when you hear what's next. I want to pull you off the Dwarf."

"Sir? Have I done something wrong?" Firemane asks, visibly distressed at the possibility of losing his current position.

"Let me finish. Commander Firemane, you've done an excellent job as Chief of Ops during the past few months . . . " Glowmane pauses, trying to find the correct words, " . . . I am about to offer you an opportunity to continue along your path of over-achievement."

Firemane regards the Admiral closely, trying to discern what troubles him.

"It is my duty and privilege to offer you your own Captaincy."

Firemane stares unblinking, not believing what he has just heard.

"However," Glowmane continues, "The circumstances that bring you here today are rather unique. Therefore, before I continue, I want you to understand that once you hear me out, you will have the right to decline the promotion with no detrimental effect on your career. Do you understand?"

Firemane finally finds his voice, "Admiral, by all means, yes, I'll . . . "

Glowmane cuts him off with a wave of his right claw. "Commander, have you heard about the explosion two days ago on Sestreion four?"

"Yes, sir," responds cautiously.

"What exactly have you heard?"

"The scuttlebutt was that some Lyran spies planted a bomb in a shuttle to try and damage the Battle Cruiser under construction there. The rumors said they failed to damage the ship."

"As usual, word travels quickly, but not very accurately. The actual facts are that the Lyrans had an 'and/or' target."

"And/or?"

"They hoped they might damage the ship, but their main target was the command staff overseeing her construction."

"The command staff?" Firemane asks himself as much as the Admiral, contemplating the complexity and reasoning of such a plot.

"Yes. Captain Lightside as well as the top six senior officers on the project were all killed."

"All . . . ?" Firemane's voice trails off as realizes the significance of the news.

"Quite a few junior officers were severely injured as well. The main body of combat proven Kzinti from that ship are going to be out of action either permanently or for quite a while."

"So you've got to find a replacement for all the central officers," Firemane notes, seeing the Admiral's dillemna.

"Commander Firemane, we have to fully restaff the ship. We still do not know who the spy was, and until we do, everyone involved in the project is suspect, and therefore, quarantined."

Firemane pauses at this revelation. "Sir, if you're restaffing the entire ship, surely there are more senior officers than myself to . . . "

"Yes, and I've already offered the job to them all. The general view is that BC #18 is jinxed. With the growing emphasis on the carrier variants and their increased production, many of the Command Grade Officers I could have offered this position to have spent most of the past year becoming familiar the operations of a new ship class. We cannot pull any of them off their ships they have without sacrificing all the time they have spent learning the intricacies of those vessels. Also, there were not as many qualified officers ahead of you as you might think." Glowmane's voice trails off with this last statement, though Firemane does not notice the change in tone.

"Sir, I'm not superstitious. I'm willing . . . "

Again Glowmane cuts Firemane off, "I'm not finished, Commander. Under normal circumstances I'm sure you wouldn't hesitate. However, you still don't know the entire picture."

The Admiral turns away from the window and retakes his seat, finally facing Firemane as he speaks. "Two weeks WHISKERS stumbled onto some very valuable information. However, logistically, with the war with the Lyrans excalating since the incident at the Four Powers War Memorial, it would be extremely difficult for us to pull any Cruiser-class vessels off the border at this time. As luck would have it though, we had BC #18 scheduled to be commissioned this week. So, a mission was planned for the vessel's maiden voyage. A relatively simple mission, with nominal risk, and possibly great benefit. However, the mission MUST be carried out immediately, as it has important strategic significance. If you take command, you will have four days to get the ship ready and on her way."

"Four days?!" the Commander shakes his head in disbelief. "What about a crew? Where are you going to find a seasoned crew in four days?"

Glowmane purrs. "You do have a knack for seeing the immediately nasty details, don't you? You are quite right. We don't have time to find a seasoned crew. However, the Institute just graduated a class yesterday. These soldiers have worked with each other closely for the last three years. But more importantly, they were all in one place -- and we could get them all here without creating a logistical nightmare."

"Cadets?!"

"Yes, Commander. Cadets. It was the only place we could gather a full crew from that quickly."

"You're going to give me command of a Battle Cruiser -- give me a shipload of cadets to run it, and send me on a mission?"

"Yes, that's the general picture," the Admiral sighs, waiting for the young Commander to decline the offer.

Firemane's tail flicks nervously back and forth as the cat contemplates the possibilities. Licking his nose three times, the red cat finally asks, "What's the mission?"

Glowmane's ears flick in surprise and relief. None of the other candidates had bothered to ask the question until after declining the job. The Admiral hopes his search is ended and takes a deep breath before continuing. "There we have a sticking point. Because of security concerns, I cannot give you complete details of the mission until you've accepted the command. However, I can give you a feel for what you will be getting into. You are familiar with planetary assault theories and history?"

"Of course, sir."

"Do you remember how during the ground wars on K'tzelli the Eiowens cut enemy supply lines by using long range bombers to destroy key supply check points?"

"Yes, Admiral. I'm familiar with the wars on K'tzelli. As I recall, they often sent in single bombers to destroy the smaller depots, while sending in massive waves of bombers with fighter cover to try and take out the major arsenals."

"With what results?"

"The massed attacks failed miserably, but the solo bombers had great success in knocking out the enemies' refueling stations. The convoys had to use the fuel they were carrying to get to the front lines, so the vehicles at the front eventually ran short of fuel. They had more than enough ammunition to fight an even battle, but without mobility they were crushed."

"You know your history very well, Commander. The mission you will be going on is a great deal like those solo bomber missions."

Firemane puzzles over the comparison as he contemplates the offer. Knowing the Lyran warships carry more than ample fuel for their attacks on the border stations, he is at a loss to come up with a mission that fits the profile the Admiral has given him. However, Glowmane had called the risk 'nominal', while citing possibly 'great' benefits, should the mission be successful.

He then considers the fact that no Kzinti has ever been given command of a Battle Cruiser at such a young age, (especially considering the difference between his real and his listed age). He also knows that accepting command of a 'jinxed' ship is risky, despite his statement to the contrary. Most importantly, he knows that he will have practically no time to prepare his crew for combat, or learn the strengths and weaknesses of those working for him. He also knows it may be years before he is offered his own ship again, with no guarantee it will be a cruiser. He takes a deep breath and makes his choice.

"I accept the assignment."

Admiral Glowmane flicks his ears in triumph, having solved his most immediate problem. He leans back in his chair, suddenly much more relaxed. "Congratulations, Captain. I can now give you the details of your first mission." He presses a few buttons on the control panel on the right side of his desk. "Your 'bombing' mission is rather simple to explain, though I do not envy you the task of getting the job done. I need you to destroy an Orion base."

"Pirates?!"

"Yes. You heard correctly. Here is the set up." The Admiral activates the viewer on the right wall, and a star map of the current Lyran/Klingon/Kzinti border appears. "The Lyrans seem bent on escalating the incident at the Shrine of our Heroes into full scale war. We can handle the Lyrans well enough, but these Orion raiders are becoming more than an annoyance to us. The Klingons haven't committed to allying with the Lyrans, which helps. But it is unlikely that they will stay out of this for long. However, in either case, the pirates keep jumping our crippled vessels while they're moving back toward repair facilities. We now have a chance to hit them back, and a direct assault on an Orion base may force them to keep a few more ships guarding their secret bases, which means a few less ships harassing our cripples."

A blinking light appears on the map, almost dead center of the junction between the three empires. "As near as we can tell this is where a clan of Orion pirates is operating a refueling station. We've been trying to find one for quite a few years, and only stumbled onto this one by sheer luck."

He presses another button, and a tactical display of the system replaces the star map. "This double-star system is surrounded by a heavy asteroid belt. The pirates have been moving ships in and out of the area for the last few weeks that we know of, but we have no idea how long they have been there or how long they intend to stay. Our best guess suggests at least one ship is always there, but rarely more than two. There is either a planet or large asteroid in there that they are using as a base. Your mission is to shut it down."

"That would be a breeze with two or three ships . . . "

"That's what Intel suggested. However, Central Command informed me that all current assets are absolutely essential to the campaign against the Lyrans. They also said that any movement by more than one ship is reacted to immediately by the Lyrans. Their intelligence is too good. However, they seem to ignore single ships moving about. Apparently their policy is designed to prevent overreacting to feints by single vessels. That's why the solo 'bomber' may work."

"So what's the plan, and will there be elements the area as reserves?"

The Admiral reluctantly shakes his head no, as he continues the briefing. "The Lyrans probably know already that the command staff for the BC has been put out of action, and if they pass the information along, the Klingons should know soon. Our standard doctrine would require us to put together another command staff to learn the idiosyncrasies of the crew and vessel, but we have neither the time nor resources to do this. In addition, both races know we always run a thorough shakedown cruise before going on active duty. I'm sure you know we haven't risked not doing so ever since the 'Quasar' disaster."

Firemane shudders at mention of the event.

Admiral Glowmane continues. "The plan is simple. We place a green crew and captain on the BC and send it on a 'routine' shakedown cruise. We're relatively certain the Lyrans will be aware practically the moment you leave space-dock. They should take that as an attempt on our part to try and convince them they actually missed killing the command crew. And no amount of security could prevent them from learning the ship is crewed by a bunch of just-out-of-school cadets. In truth, we're counting on that knowledge to ensure they will ignore your movements."

"Um, sir. If they are aware the ship has an extremely green crew, mightn't they take that opportunity to attempt capturing the ship?" Firemane asks, hesitantly.

The Admiral considers this for a moment. "While that would be a reasonable plan, remember, the Lyrans have not managed to capture a Kzinti vessel intact in over a decade. And concurrent with your raid on the raiders, we will have a . . . separate operation commencing a considerable distance away from the hideout, which should divert any attention the Lyrans might be paying you. The Lyrans will ignore your 'unscheduled' trip into the tri-border zone. Trust me."

Firemane grimaces at the phrase, but nods his head in understanding. "And if they DO make a grab for my ship, they'll be pulling resources away from whatever our main objectives really are."

The Admiral blinks at Firemane's analysis. "You continue to impress me, Captain. I have senior Captains who would not have picked up on that aspect of the mission. But that is just a potential benefit, and not the main focus of the plan."

"I understand, sir," Firemane nods.

"Simply put, you take out the base, high-tail it back home, and the pirates are out of action in that sector for awhile. The attack may also draw any Orion ships patrolling in the area away from our core fleet elements. But remember, the target here is the base -- not any pirate ships that you may find there, or that show up. Once the base is destroyed, you are NOT to risk your ship or crew further. Understood?"

"Understood, sir." Firemane says, then asks, "Have you selected the Senior officers for the Cruiser?"

Glowmane deactivates the viewer, dreading the answers he will be forced to give to the questions he knows are coming. "You'll have a chief of Engineering," he purrs. "He was assistant construction foreman when the project began. However, he was injured in a minor accident a couple of months ago. After a short hospital stay and some minor rehab he was reassigned to another project, since #18 was so close to completion. His name is Sabretongue."

The Admiral pauses for a moment, then looks Firemane squarely in the eyes as he continues his answer. "Other than the engineer, no one has been selected, since we were not sure who the Captain would be. I do have a short list of officers that have served on Cruisers, who are currently unassigned. I'll see that the base Personnel Logistics Officer gives you complete access to the files. I know this is a difficult situation for you, and I felt allowing you to select your core command staff was the least I could do. Unfortunately, it's also the most I can do. You understand, of course, I can allow you to draw only one officer from any specific currently active ship -- and any officers you choose from active ships are allowed right of first refusal in accordance with the Officers' Regulation Code. Of course, reassignment denial is also possible if transport cannot be arranged for your choices that allows them to meet your departure time."

Firemane considers all this before speaking, trying to let the reality of his situation set in. "Admiral, I have to admit, I'm a bit overwhelmed by all this. One question, though. You said the crew would consist of cadets from this year's graduating class from the Institute. How many experienced team leaders and section heads will I be allowed?"

Admiral Glowmane turns away, rises from his desk and once again gazes out his window at the ships hanging there. "None," he says, closing his eyes with the response, though Firemane can only stare at his back in disbelief.

"Sir?" the new Captain asks, though well aware he has heard the Admiral quite clearly.

Glowmane turns to face his subordinate. His eyes are suddenly cold and unfeeling -- the wall of callousness two decades in the military has created rising to protect him from the return stare of Firemane. "The crew will consist entirely of cadets from this year's graduating class from the Institute."

"Begging your pardon, sir. Not even a clawful of experienced Crewmen?"

"Unfortunately, no, Captain," Glowmane says evenly. No Captain is going to willingly release any experienced and competent crew with the . . . under current circumstances. Intelligence also felt by putting a full crew of new graduates, we would increase the chance the Lyrans will perceive the ship as harmless. They suggested I should use an absolute minimum of currently active personnel. I finally decided to allow you your choice of officers for your Command Core. It was also felt by WHISKERS that security would be much easier if only the core officers were transferred. Experienced crew members know the tricks and ploys necessary to get word to loved ones when they are reassigned. The officers know better -- and won't violate a level four security oath. You and I both know regular crew are not so dependable."

Firemane nods, knowing the Admiral is correct. But his eyes glare at Glowmane in anger, realizing only now just how much of a burden is being placed on him in taking this command. "I can understand the reasoning, Admiral," he states coldly.

"I know this is a bastard of a first mission for you," the Admiral offers, ignoring the edge in Firemane's voice. "But with the war heating up, the missions aren't likely to get easier."

"I understand, Admiral," Firemane reiterates. "There is one more thing I would like to know, though."

Glowmane considers Firemane carefully before answering, "And what would that be?"

"Assuming I am able to complete this mission successfully, what is to be the disposition of the ship, my officers and crew?" The Admiral frowns at the question. "Well . . . we haven't made any decisions . . . "

Firemane fairly leaps out of his chair, startling Glowmane, and slams both paws firmly on the desk between them. "I know you haven't made any decisions, sir," he says coolly, though his tone grows more animated as he continues. "What I am asking about is contingency plans. Surely, the Logistics Branch has pencilled in #18 into a fleet after this mission -- and I suspect there is a target date for assignment to that fleet."

Firemane backs up a step, though he doesn't pause. "We both know Central Command has no intention of allowing a boatload of kittens to remain on a Cruiser-class vessel -- especially if the Lyran front is going to heat up as you have indicated! I want to know if you intend to leave me in command of #18 after this mission, and how much say will I have in selecting the personnel that will remain on board."

Admiral Glowmane's fur rises at Firemane's outburst. His eyes flare for a moment before he calms himself. Though tempted to withdraw the promotion, the Admiral knows he has few options at this point. The list of potential candidates for the assignment was short -- and he knows if he cannot find a suitable commander for the mission, he will personally draw the duty. As his anger fades, he realizes the brash, young Captain before him has already reached the same conclusion.

"Captain," the Admiral begins with a surprisingly cordial tone, "I can assure you that you will retain command of the Battle Cruiser upon successful completion of your mission. As to the disposition of the crew and officers -- without knowing who the officers will be, or where they will be drawn from, I cannot make any guarantees about them." Glowmane raises a claw to silence Firemane, as he continues speaking.

"However, you are correct. We have no intention of leaving you saddled with a crew of cadets. They, of course, will be reassigned to their original duty posts. Once you've returned, we will begin assembling a legitimate crew, which should be drawn predominately from the personnel originally assigned to her -- at least those that have been cleared of any possible involvement in the sabotage." The Admiral suppresses a sneer as he concludes his speech, thinking, That should satisfy you, you little . . .

"Not good enough," Firemane states casually. He stifles a purr at the outright shock that flickers across the Admiral's face.

"I beg your pardon, Commander?" the Admiral asks, stressing Firemane's previous rank.

"I want final say in which crew members remain on board. I also want a guarantee that any officer who requests to stay with me will be allowed to do so without any paper-shuffling or bureaucratic slight-of-paw to return them to their previous posts. Of course, any officers who do not wish to remain with me would be free to return to previous posts, or be reassigned to Personnel -- I really wouldn't care about them anyway." Firemane finishes his list of demands, then retakes his seat and waits for Glowmane's response.

Again, the Admiral quells his inner rage -- this time by mentally reviewing the mission plan and all the hazards this impertinent, young Captain must overcome in order to complete the task before him. Then the Admiral surprises Firemane, by purring with laughter.

"Captain," he chuckles. "I was warned that you did not possess, shall we say, a typical command grade personality. I see now that the reports were not at all exaggerated. You're wanting to hold onto the jewels you may find out of the cadet corps, of course. I should have expected that. You know that goes against standard policy. But in this case, I'll personally see to it that you have final say in the disposition of any and all of your crew, including officers -- assuming, of course, you complete your mission successfully."

Firemane smiles at this last remark. "Thank you, Admiral," he says, nodding. "There is one more request, if I may?"

The Admiral sighs, "What now?"

"I assume BC #18 has a semi-official name at this point."

"Yes, I believe she is to be christened Solar Wind," the Admiral answers, slightly perplexed.

"I would like permission to rename her, sir."

"What name did you have in mind, Captain?" The Admiral relaxes, realizing this last request is almost certainly one he can accommodate without any grief.

"I don't have one in mind, sir. But, since the Solar Wind is considered jinxed, I was hoping to . . . break the jinx by allowing the ship to earn her own name," Firemane explains.

"Earn her name?"

"Yes, sir. I'm certain I'll have an acceptable name upon returning from our mission."

The Admiral's ears flick slightly at this statement. "Very well. I'll see to it that the name Solar Wind is removed from your ship's files. However, your eventual ship name will have to be approved by The Council before becoming official."

"I understand, sir."

"Report to Colonel Shadowdancer tomorrow morning for your travel orders. Your privileges regarding disposition of your crew will be included with them. He will also take care of the logistics of gathering your Core Officers and delivering them to your ship. Oh, and congratulations on your promotion, Captain. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir," Firemane responds as he stands and returns the Admiral's salute. He exits the room, outwardly proud and confident. As the door shuts behind him he wonders just what he has gotten himself into.

***

[FLEET CONSTRUCTION SITE #4]

Forty-eight hours later, Firemane finds himself staring at the rust colored hull of his new ship. The hue is hideously out of place for a brand new vessel. Firemane realizes quickly, it is the color of first level primer. His first action as Captain is to find why his ship has not been painted. He discovers from Quartermaster Corps that two shipments of primer arrived, while no paint has been received. After chewing out several shipping clerks, furious that he is unable to speak with the Site Supervisor, now personally leading the investigation into the sabotage, he commandeers a shuttle to fly to his ship, while pondering whether it may really be jinxed.

Dubious as to the competence of anyone around, he pilots the shuttle himself. As the tiny metal box makes its way from the space dock terminal to his ship, Firemane's anger turns into mirth as he recalls his time aboard Hell's Dungeon. When the shuttle lands he is in quite a good mood, though determined not to let anyone know it.

"Permission to come aboard," Firemane asks, regarding the gold-coated Crewman, barely taller than himself.

"Granted. Welcome aboard, sir," the Crewman responds with crisp military decor.

"And you are?"

"Crewman forth, Thornpaw, sir," the kit stammers nervously. "Science Department Astrophysics Specialist."

"Very well. Astrophysics you say? Perhaps you've been reading about the recent research which may disprove Cloudfoot's theorem," Firemane says casually.

"Um . . . well, actually, I was downloading data on that research yesterday," the Crewman sputters.

"Really? You'll have to tell me your opinions sometime. However, at the moment I am rather pressed for time. Where are my senior officers?"

At this moment three older cats enter the shuttle bay and approach Firemane and Crewman Thornpaw. The trio come to a stop and salute with parade precision, though their eyes twinkle in playful familiarity. Firemane looks the three up and down disdainfully, his less than enthusiastic response obvious to all. The cheerful mood the three present slowly dissolves as Firemane's scornful stare lingers.

"Commander Highclimber -- Chief of Operations; Commander Windrider -- Navigation and Helm; Commander 'Biter -- weapons," the Captain finally says without emotion, eliciting puzzled expressions from all three Department heads. "When can we get under way?"

"Sir," Commander Highclimber responds, "the ship isn't even painted yet. We can't . . . " The Commander's sentence trails off in response to Firemane's searing glare.

"When I ask questions it is to find things I do not already know, Commander," he whispers angrily at the tan officer. "I have seen the outside of the ship," he continues, his voice rising in volume and anger with each word. He moves down the line, continuing his tirade only inches from his Navigator's square, yellow face. "I came over in a shuttlecraft," Firemane explains, smelling the growing apprehension in the Helmsman. Only the jet black form of the Weapons Officer, 'Biter remains visibly unaffected by the Captain's tirade. Firemane returns quickly to Highclimber to finish his speech. "It should be obvious I can tell what color the ship is, Commander. Now, again. Estimated time to departure?"

"Thirty-six hours, sir," the thin, wiry cat says curtly.

"We'll leave space dock in eighteen hours and forty-seven minutes. I assume my Chief Engineer is working, rather than dawdling in the shuttle bay. I want a meeting with all department heads two hours after we are under way. I will inform the Chief myself. I will post our mission plan and objectives electronically to your private accounts in the interim. I suggest you review the material thoroughly before the meeting. I'll answer all questions then. Unless otherwise notified, I am not to be disturbed. I expect you to solve your own problems and not bother me with petty details regarding getting us under way. Dismissed."

Firemane strides past the three senior officers and Crewman Thornpaw as if they are no longer there. Once in the corridor beyond the shuttle bay, Firemane pauses and takes a deep breath before resuming his rhythmic gait. He hopes the cordial greeting to Thornpaw, followed by the hostile treatment of Department Heads will make quite an impression on the crew, as word travels through the grapevine. Firemane prays the impression has the desired effect as he enters Engineering.

The Engineering deck bustles with activity. Firemane pauses for a moment, admiring the dance-like precision of the engineers as they work. An unlucky Crewman notices the Captain at the door and stops to salute, dropping the piece of equipment in his claw in the process. The Crewman squeals in pain as the metal object lands squarely on his hairy blue left paw.

Firemane shouts "As you were!" over the din before any of the others can stop and hurt themselves. He approaches the crewman and tells him to report to sickbay. As the crewman limps out, Firemane retrieves the metal object from the deck. Before he has time to decide where the crewman had been heading with the cylinder, he hears a gruff voice cursing loudly about a missing expansion cylinder and a crewman he is going to 'adapt' to use in place of the part.

Firemane strides toward the voice and stoops down to hand the part to a shaggy, orange cat under a large control panel. "Here's your expansion cylinder, Chief," Firemane says, sliding the metal object under the console toward the mostly hidden Kzin.

"Next time you go get laid, either stay on ship or skip the foreplay, Chubby. Where the hell have you been?"

"On the White Dwarf most recently."

"What?!" the Chief exclaims, his head banging into some unseen obstacle with a loud ping as he extricates himself from the control panel. Seeing the bright red fur of the cat before him, the Engineer cocks his head and says, "Captain Firemane, I presume."

"Very astute, Chief Sabretongue. In engineering terms, what needs to be done before we can sail?"

"In engineering terms? We could use a new left nacelle, but short of that I'd say a couple new thrust controllers, three or four transfocusers, a clawful of disruptor initiation injectors and about a dozen females -- for crew morale."

Firemane's own engineering background enables the red cat to decipher the engineer's report. "Very good. How fast can we get locked and stowed?"

"As is? Probably thirty-five minutes. To finish all the peripherals? About thirty hours."

"You've got eighteen hours. There will be a meeting two hours post-departure. Any questions?"

The disbelieving engineer looks around at the synchronized confusion going on about him and shakes his head. "No questions, Captain."

"Very well. Carry on," responds Firemane, standing as he turns to leave engineering.

As he passes through the doorway, his sharp ears pick out the Chief's voice grumbling, "Why don't you just brighten up a room and leave?"

As Firemane makes his way to the bridge he curses to himself again about his predicament. This was not how I envisioned beginning my first command. If I only had more time. But time is a limited resource in the military; even more so during war. The trick now is to convince these kittens that real combat is just like the sims at the Institute. And prevent my own friends from teaching them the truth. He has a plan to pull off the miracle he needs. But he sighs, unhappy with the choices he has been forced to make.

After checking the bridge, where he finds Highclimber and Windrider hard at work, but not very happy, Firemane retires to his cabin. He quickly falls asleep, the first sleep he's had in over two days. He is awakened by the battle stations claxon. Before he can press the comm-panel, the shipwide P/A announces, "This is just a test. Continue with present duties."

Firemane only then notices he has slept an unforgivable ten hours. After donning a fresh uniform, Firemane enters the command center of his ship for the second time. The scene has changed little in the intervening hours. Highclimber is absent, but his jet black Weapons officer is present. Ignoring 'Biter, Firemane sees the cat he is looking for and approaches him. "Lieutenant Halftan?"

"Yes, sir," the startled cat replies too quickly and too loudly.

Firemane suppresses the urge to chuckle at the tan and white Lieutenant's nervousness. "At ease. I understand you were team leader and top grad at the Institute this year."

"Yes, sir," he responds, licking his nose twice.

"Your team's efficiency rating was one of the highest of all time."

"Yes, sir," the young speckled Lieutenant responds, his ears bristling proudly.

"Can you duplicate that feat in real space?"

"Sir?"

"Can you produce the same results on our shakedown cruise as Second in Command?" Firemane asks the young kit.

For a moment Halftan is dumbfounded, before responding with an enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!"

"Normally, I would put make Highclimber my second, but as Chief of Ops, he is going to be at a disadvantage, having five departments to oversee, while being unfamiliar with all of his personnel. So, as of now you are assistance Chief of Ops and Second In Command. This is that dream chance that every Institute grad imagines, Halftan. I'll warn you now, that working for me will make school seem like a night with your mate. I may ask more of you than you expect."

"I'll be ready, Captain."

"And it would not do to place a Junior Lieutenant in charge of the ship during C-shift. Therefore, I hereby grant you a field promotion to Lieutenant Third," Firemane waves Halftan into silence. "Do not thank me for the hell I am about to put you through. Believe me, you will earn the promotion."

Still gazing at the young Lieutenant, Firemane speaks casually over his shoulder. "Commander Highclimber, what system is farthest from total readiness?"

Firemane turns when an answer is not forthcoming to find Highclimber staring dumbfounded at him silently.

"Commander?" Firemane growls softly.

"Transporters and drone racks, sir," the still rattled officer finally manages.

"Lieutenant Halftan, I want you to take over supervising the transporter installation. See that they are ready by departure."

"Yes, sir. Uh . . . when exactly is departure, sir?"

"Sooner than you think, Lieutenant, sooner than you think. Carry on."

Halftan practically sprints to the mover, exuding the enthusiasm only found in youth. He nearly tramples Commander Windrider when the door to the mover opens and he steps out.

The Commander approaches the Captain warily.

"All navigation systems working. All helm controls are operational. Final testing on all secondary and tertiary backup systems is in progress, Captain."

"Excellent," Firemane responds assessing the haggard officer before him, "Go help WideEyes with Medical."

"Yes, sir," the yellow Commander replies levelly.

The Captain then strides past him and exits the bridge without further comment.

As the door slides shut behind the Captain, Windrider turns to Highclimber. "Do you have a clue?"

The tan Chief of Operations eyes his old friend and sighs, "No. He definitely doesn't appear to be the same cat we knew back at the Institute."

"The same cat?" Windrider sputters. "By Nova's light, I'm not sure he's the same species."

Highclimber's ears twitch mirthfully at the comment. "I suppose he wants to make it clear that he's our Captain now and not our classmate."

"Message received," Windrider huffs.

"And then some," Highclimber agrees. "Speaking of messages, can you tell WhiteEar to get back up here to finish installing the subspace routing board? He should be on deck seven, fixing a mess some cadets made with the internal comm-system relay encryption scramblers."

"Will do," Windrider nods before exiting the bridge.

Firemane spends the next several hours prowling about the ship, never staying more than a few minutes anywhere, but making his presence felt everywhere. The engine start-up procedure goes off without a hitch. The spacedock shuts down its power reactors, while running its systems off the power generated by the great war ship, so the base can perform maintenance on their own systems.

Twenty-seven minutes before Firemane's quoted departure time, Lieutenant Halftan enters the bridge and approaches Firemane, who is sitting in his command chair, going over a small portion of his ever growing mountain of paperwork.

"Captain, transporters are operational. Request permission to transport over to space dock and obtain some supplies."

"Good work. What sort of supplies? We haven't been anywhere, so what are we running low on?"

"To get the transporters ready, we used some spare circuits. Engineering is too busy to repair our defective boards, so I thought I might trade our damaged boards for some good ones."

"They won't be likely to take that trade, Lieutenant. Quartermaster Corps can't get half their orders right. They'll not trade good for bad without some incentive."

"I wasn't planning on negotiating, sir. Just trading."

Firemane eyes his young Second and chuckles to himself. "Permission granted. I think I'm beginning to see how you got such a high efficiency rating. Carry on."

Fifteen minutes later Halftan returns, informing the Captain he successfully 'traded' the circuit boards and picked up some fresh Bakellian beef, also.

A quarter of an hour later, the Kzinti Battle Cruiser disconnects from the spacedock, and creeps into space for the first time. The mottled brown/red color of the ship makes those who watch her depart think she's going out for the last time rather than the first.

"Commander Windrider, plot a course for the Klathena system."

"Plotted and laid in."

"Engineering?" Firemane asks, activating his wrist-comm.

"Chief Engineer Sabretongue here, sir."

"How much speed can you give me?"

"She can do warp one point five now. Give me twenty minutes and you'll have all speeds up to warp three."

"You have ten minutes, Chief. We'll keep it at a crawl until then. But I've got to have full warp capability in no more than four hours. Understood?"

"Understood," the Chief's responds over the intercom with a note of resignation.

"Full impulse, Windrider. Let's give the Chief his ten minutes. Then I want warp three. But don't give the Chief any warning when you go to warp."

Windrider turns and looks at the Captain, his ears twitching.

"Yes, you heard correctly. Carry out your orders, Commander."

"Understood, sir," the helmsman says softly, returning his attention to his navigation console. He eyes the small digital time readout on the corner of the screen, his tail twitching nervously.

As the ship glides away from spacedock, Firemane begins asking the different bridge officers for different information they are responsible for monitoring. It takes everyone present only a few minutes to realize the Captain's tone changing depending on which crewmember is being questioned. His Senior officers receive growls and impatient hisses, the Captain seemingly never completely satisfied with their responses. The recent graduates, though, are treated with strokes and noses, the Captain exhibiting seemingly endless patience and exuding cordiality to each.

Precisely ten minutes after leaving spacedock, Firemane says "Go to warp."

Windrider immediately activates the controls to accelerate the ship out of real space into warp space.

The sound of warning klaxons going off is nearly drown out by the high pitched whine which seems to shake the entire ship. With the exception of Firemane and Windrider, every crew member on the bridge reflexively covers their ears at the painful screech. Windrider's claws shut down the warp engines in less than a second. The normal bass hum of the impulse engine is absent, making the whirrs and pings of the bridge equipment seem a little louder than normal. As the ship glides along on its inertia, Windrider begins hitting the breaking thrusters, stabilizing the ship's aspect and slowing it ever so slightly.

"Keep her under control, Commander. I'll be in Engineering. Lieutenant Halftan, you have the Conn," Firemane says as he strides purposefully off the bridge. The crew continue to shake their heads, trying to assuage the persistent ringing they are all experiencing.

[ENGINEERING - KZINTI BC #18]

As the door to Engineering slides open, Firemane can hear Chief Sabretongue's low baritone spewing expletives, most directed at the Captain. The controlled chaos Firemane had seen hours before in the engine room is now full blown pandemonium. Some of the cadets are prone or sitting on the floor, holding their heads and rocking rhythmically in time with the throbbing pain inside their skulls. The Captain ignores everyone else, heading directly toward the Chief.

The Engineer turns just before Firemane reaches him, and ends his tirade in mid curse. "For Fates sake, who . . . "

"I did, Chief Sabretongue," Firemane growls menacingly, his eyes boring into the engineer like flaming comets.

The Chief's tone alters slightly as he sees he is not going to get the apology he was expecting. "I didn't receive the standard notifi . . . "

"The hell you say," Firemane cuts him off. "I gave you that notification ten minutes prior to going to warp."

The Chief licks his nose, suddenly very unsure how he should respond to this young Captain who had been so cordial at their first meeting. "But standard doctrine calls for a notification only one minute . . . "

"WE ARE AT WAR!!!" Firemane roars. "In combat situations all engineering staff will follow whatever their last orders were to the letter, so that in the event communications are compromised, bridge personnel may make tactical decisions with some idea of what to expect from engineering, until communications are reestablished. That is a direct quote from page forty-one, paragraph three of the Operational Parameters Guide."

The Chief hesitates, then takes a breath and says, "But we were not in a combat . . . "

"How did you know that, Commander?"

"Sir?"

"How did you know we weren't in a combat situation? The last order I gave you was that we would go to warp in ten minutes. You assured me that we could. At that point it became YOUR responsibility to inform me if that assessment was in error. Being that you were not contacted by the bridge during the ninth minute of the warp countdown, as a Senior Officer, you should have had the gumption to conclude either we were going to go ahead and jump to warp three as previously planned, or that communications had been compromised in some way. Did you make an effort to contact the bridge?"

The Chief realizes that the chaos of the engineering deck has ceased and every eye and ear in the area is trained on him. "I apologize for the oversight, Captain. It will not happen again."

Firemane nods. "Very well."

He turns quickly and starts to exit the room, but pauses at the door. Turning back to face Sabretongue, he asks cordially, "Chief, when I asked for warp in ten minutes did you know it wasn't enough time, or did you honestly think you could make the deadline?"

Sabretongue hesitates, sensing the wrong answer will land him in hot water, but unsure exactly what would be considered the wrong answer by this strange and fiery young Captain. He finally opts on telling the truth. "I . . . I didn't think I could make that deadline, sir. But I thought it would be close."

Firemane considers this for a moment. "Fair enough. In the future, though, it would be helpful if you could voice these concerns as early as possible. It will be much easier to adapt to situations if I have the information up front. And as soon as you know you may miss a deadline, please inform the bridge. Oh, and I'll be expecting an accurate estimate of how long it will take to get us up to warp three by the time I return to the bridge."

"Yes, sir," Sabretongue answers evenly.

As Firemane exits Engineering, the Chief looks around at his young staff. "You heard the Captain! Get your tails in gear!"

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

Forty minutes later, the huge blood colored spacecraft accelerates, its weapons mounts protruding from the main hull like stubby little legs of a giant galactic insect.

Barely an hour out of spacedock, Firemane begins drilling his young crew. Only two problems arise during the brief test. First, a circuit burns out which controls the point defense phaser fire-control system. The other problem -- a drone rack misfires its dummy drone during the combat simulation.

"Terminate simulation. Stand down and maintain posts," Firemane's voice booms throughout the vessel. "Lieutenant Halftan, you have the Conn." Firemane is careful to leave the P/A open just long enough for the crew to hear this last statement.

Halftan takes the command chair as Firemane exits the bridge.

[DRONE BAY #3 - KZINTI BC #18]

Firemane strolls into the drone loading hangar, where he surprises three Crewmen leaning on drone rack '3', laughing over a joke the Captain obviously just missed. One cat spots the Captain and comes to attention abruptly. The others quickly follow suit.

"Who loaded that drone that misfired?"

Silence.

"Cats, I cannot help you correct your mistakes if you won't admit them. Now, once again, who loaded the drone?"

"I did, sir," comes the response from the smallest of the three, a nervous tiger-striped cat.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, Crewman. I'm dead. You're dead. In fact, we are all dead."

As he speaks, Firemane's voice starts as a whisper, and begins slowly to rise. "You see, in that simulation, that drone would have hit a Lyran Command Cruiser at point blank just an instant before his weapons cycled. That drone would have prevented a great deal of damage. Instead, the Lyrans got the Alpha Strike and destroyed you and your drone, as well as my entire ship."

The Crewman by this point is suppressing an urge to bolt. Firemane's tone drops again, as he calmly asks, "How did you load it? Show me."

The Crewman moves to the rack and adjusts a handle near the nose of the drone rack. "I didn't secure the nose guide firing pin properly, sir. I thought I had closed it, but it hadn't fastened."

"I see. So it was like this?"

"Yes, sir," he sputters.

Firemane picks up a heavy metal pipe from the mobile loader beside them. He then activates the rack and looks at the diagnostic board. Everything on the board indicates the rack is ready. Firemane calls the bridge on his comm-link and tells them to prepare to tractor the dummy drone. As three unbelieving crewmen watch, he activates the firing sequence to launch the drone, knowing that it is not properly loaded.

The sound of metal on metal is harsh and grating as the drone jams in the tube. Suddenly, Firemane brings the pipe down on the nose guide handle. With a loud crack the drone breaks free of the tube and the sound from the launcher disappears. "That cats, is how to launch a drone. Teach this method to the other crews, tear apart the diagnostic board and fix it, and make sure there are no other faulty readings on any of the other boards. If that firing pin is not secure, the diagnostics board should show it. Inform Halftan when you're done. And in the future, if something goes wrong, find out what it is and fix it before I get down here to chew you out. Carry on." Firemane exits the room without further comment.

[CONFERENCE ROOM #1 - KZINTI BC #18]

Firemane enters the conference room and reaches his chair at the head of the oval table quickly without fanfare. He pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning the faces of the five comrades surrounding the table. Halftan sits at the opposite end of the table, his fur bristling nervously, though the Captain can almost hear him counseling himself to calm down.

Highclimber, Chief of Operations and 'Biter, Head Weapons Officer sit on the right side of the table. On Firemane's left, Windrider, Chief Helmsman sits easily while Chief Engineer Sabretongue exudes anger, though he is careful not to challenge his new Captain directly with a stare.

"Warriors, I apologize for the pressure I've placed on you to speed things up. This meeting is to review our mission orders and to let you air your feelings, ideas, and sentiments on how we may best accomplish our mission objectives. I trust you have all reviewed the briefings," the Captain begins.

Nods and muffled acknowledgements come from all.

"I want your honest opinions and assessments. Don't retract your claws," Firemane commands. "Highclimber?"

"Has Central Command lost their collective mind?"

Purrs errupt from everyone.

"But how do you really feel?" Firemane responds with a gleam in his eye.

Chief Sabretongue and Halftan fail to notice the exchange of glances between the Captain's former schoolmates, as for the first time they see a glimmer of the cat they knew so many years ago.

"Sending out a crew of cadets to run a psychological test? That's the biggest pile of dog poop I've ever heard of," Highclimber continues.

Firemane has to wave the others into silence as, with the exception of Halftan, they all heartily express their agreement.

"I agree, Commander. And I apologize for my behavior to you all so far. However, it was a necessary part of the test," Firemane explains.

"That's good to know," Windrider says, "We were beginning to think you'd been possessed by Starchaser."

The Captain's ears flick in amusement at the comment. "No, no. I'm not the Kartesian Wombat I may have seemed to be. And I want to doubly apologize to you Commander Sabretongue. I know my actions have been particularly rough on you, given the time constraints you were working under, plus the handicap of having no experienced claws at your disposal."

The Chief's nose wrinkles and his head cocks to the side as he tries to size up his Captain yet again. "Apology accepted," he says after a moment.

'Biter growls softly, "Do they honestly think this farce of an experiment can actually accelerate the indoctrination of future cadets into the fleet?"

"Actually, no," Firemane says casually, leaning back slightly in his soft, padded chair.

A confused silence descends on the room as each officer attempts to make sense out of this last statement.

"It's all a lie?" Lieutenant Halftan finally breaks the silence.

"Very good, Lieutenant," Firemane says, fairly beaming at the young kit's observation.

Everyone speaks at once, and again the Captain must wave them into silence. Finally, he points at Highclimber.

"If this is all a lie, why in Hells did you send us these bogus mission briefings?"

"Halftan, you want to give this one a try?" Firemane offers.

The Lieutenant hesitates for a moment, considering the question. "In case the crew hack into the computer to get a look at the official mission statement?"

"No one's gonna hack into MY system," Highclimber protests.

"Perhaps," the Captain nods. "But how many systems did you hack into when you were still a cadet?"

Highclimber pauses, remembering his youth. "Then I'll see if I can upgrade . . . "

"Don't bother, Commander," Halftan purrs.

Firemane snorts, realizing before the others what the Lieutenant is saying.

Highclimber turns to eye the Lieutenant. "You mean . . . "

"Yes, they've already hacked the mission orders," he says with a note of embarrassment.

As the others purr at Highclimber's expense, he shakes his head. "Am I really getting that old?" he says to no one in particular.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Commander," Firemane says. "As Chief of Ops, you had a lot more to attend to then keeping your computer system secure from a shipload of curious cadets. However, I'm sure you're all wanting to know what our real mission is."

This brings the attention fully back to the Captain.

"To begin, you've all been lied to. This is not just a simple shakedown slash training cruise. We have a real mission to accomplish."

"What kind of mission?" a still irritated Highclimber asks.

"For the moment I want to keep the specifics of the mission to myself. I am certain I can trust all of you to keep this confidential. However, if you know precisely what our mission is, it may affect the way you handle the crew on certain points. For us to succeed in our mission, the cadets must be convinced the bogus orders are in fact valid."

"But sir," Sabretongue says pleadingly. "With our rapid departure, engineering has a myriad of potential problems. It will take months to get the ship up to fighting trim. If I knew what systems would be critical . . . "

"Chief," Firemane interrupts him. "That's exactly what I was talking about. If you concentrate on certain systems at the expense of others the kits are going to want to know why. I can say we may see combat."

"Combat?!" the group responds in unison.

"Perhaps. Nothing is certain as yet, but yes, great cats, we may be taking kittens to slaughter, but it is our task to see we all get back alive."

"But why send cadets and, if you'll excuse the insult, an unproven Captain?" Sabretongue asks.

"Again, I must say that the less you know for the time being, the better our chances will be for pulling this off," Firemane explains. "However, where you're concerned, Chief, you explain to the cadets that we are at war with the Lyrans and that the top priority of any ship out of space dock during wartime is to be prepared for combat. I expect you to be just as hard in reprimanding personnel for errors concerning glowplates and food dispensers, but concentrate your time and resources on combat systems."

"Understood," the engineer says reluctantly.

"Sir," 'Biter says, stumbling slightly to find his words. "Being that this situation is extremely unusual, I would think security would be of paramount concern," he glances at Highclimber apologetically, knowing he is voicing a concern the Chief of Ops is technically responsible for.

"Valid point. Highclimber, I believe Lieutenant Sugarpaw is your head of Security and Marines?"

"Yes, sir. Honestly, with the rush we had to get underway, I really haven't had much chance to coordinate with the Lieutenant," Highclimber apologizes.

"Quite understandable. And with the headaches you'll be facing administratively in dealing with an entire shipload of kits new to duty, if you have no objections, I think Sugarpaw can report to 'Biter for this mission."

"No objection at all," Highclimber fairly beams at having his workload reduced.

"I know it will be a little extra . . . "

"Not a problem," 'Biter says before the Captain can finish.

"There are some other concerns I have," Firemane adds. "Because of the circumstances, if the Lyrans managed to get a spy into this year's graduating class, we've got him now. So we do need to prevent any communications from within the ship. Highclimber, have Lieutenant WhiteEar set up an autoexec file that will jam any outgoing transmission and trace it. Chances are, if we do have a mole, he doesn't have the best equipment yet. Keep the jammer separate from the silent running file. I don't want the cadets to know we are running silent. Highclimber, THAT's the file you need to make sure the cadets don't find."

Highclimber nods.

"Also, have WhiteEar route any transmissions to Central Command to his cabin. He'll be responsible for convincing any other Comm-officer that they are actually speaking to Central Command to dispel any suspicion."

"Captain, if we're actually going on duty, I'd suggest replacing Lieutenant Halftan as Exec with one of us," Windrider says, careful not to look to see the young Lieutenant's reaction.

"A valid concern, Windrider. But I cannot do that. How many crew members do you know by name and face?"

"Well, maybe thirty."

"He knows all of them, and more importantly, they all know and respect him. They've followed his orders for most of three years. He's rare, in that he was liked by almost everyone and he was an excellent leader despite this. It is the nature of young cats to question authority. We don't have time to prepare them all for real combat. So we just need to convince them they are still in school, running simulations."

"I don't think I follow you," Highclimber puzzles.

"I plan to run Mindbender simulations every two hours from now until we reach our check off point. We'll take six or seven hours off to rest, then run one or two more, just prior to reaching our destination."

"Mindbenders en masse? That'll raise hell with the equipment," Chief Sabretongue notes.

"Exactly. It will give your engineers some real experience with quick fixing, Chief."

"Why the extra sims after our checkoff point?" asks 'Biter.

"Don't worry 'Biter, the last couple will be rigged, so we'll win those without taking any 'damage'. Your weapons console will be fully functional if and when we do engage the enemy."

"And leave the cadets with the taste of victory on their tongues just before the real thing!" exclaims Windrider, seeing the logic of Firemane's plan.

"Precisely. Any other comments or suggestions?"

"What ships will we be mind-bending?" Highclimber queries.

"All kinds. Randomly selected and run from even odds to three to one against. The last two are set-ups with predetermined outcomes. Have all language banks at optimum, so we can avoid any computer glitches if negotiation comes up."

"Understood."

"Windrider, you'll have the toughest job. You're going to hide our real position from the cadet navigators."

"I am?"

"Yes. That means two courses. One is our real one -- the other, what the cadets will run and 'see' with the sensors. I'll give you the coordinates and timetable for the check off point as soon as the meeting is over. You and I are the only ones to know our destination in advance. That includes the rest of you," Firemane notes for his officer corps. "I know none of you are going to be very pleased with being kept in the dark about this, but the less you know, the better off you'll be. Trust me."

"This is going to be a short mission if one of those cadets runs us into a star," 'Biter notes.

"I trust Commander Windrider will prevent that from happening."

Windrider sighs, already mentally preparing himself for a navigational problem he never even dreamed of.

"Highclimber, I want you to also consult with WideEyes regularly. If the cadets are to buy the fact that this is a psyche test, we've got to support that mission with actions. And don't underestimate his ability to offer insight where you might not expect it."

"Understood, sir."

"Captain, assuming we convince the kits we're really doing sims -- what happens if and when we take damage during combat? How many cadets will stop their tasks to help their injured friends? How many will see through our charade and realize we're really in combat?"

"Good questions all, Chief Sabretongue. With Lieutenant Halftan's help we will have the best cats in key positions. Also, I plan to add pseudo-casualties to the early Mindbenders. Occasionally one of you will go down during the sim, and a clawful of cadets will be chosen by Halftan for their ability to keep a secret. They will be instructed to do everything they can to distract their shipmates from their tasks."

"Sounds like a psyche test," Highclimber says evenly as Firemane's grand scheme becomes more clear to him.

"But still . . . "

"I know, Chief. I'm risking a major collapse in discipline during real combat. But everything we know about the way cadets respond to their first combat would indicate slower response time for 75% of all virgins of battle, compared to simulations. I'm betting on those first few minutes to give us enough of an advantage to finish our job before it matters."

"You've gained quite a reputation for the unexpected during your career, Captain," Sabretongue notes. "I'm beginning to see why. Most great Captains attain legendary status by bluffing their opponents. I've never heard of one bluffing his own crew."

"Admiral Rushwind taught me that to win, one must use all assets efficiently, while lessening one's weaknesses. This is the best way I see to accomplish that," Firemane explains. When no one responds immediately the Captain asks, "Any further discussion?"

Firemane looks at each cat closely before rising and dismissing them. He sees a growing confidence that his officers had not previously demonstrated. He secretly wishes he could instill some of that confidence within himself.

[CAPTAIN'S STATEROOM - KZINTI BC #18]

After leaving Highclimber in command, Firemane takes Halftan with him to the Captain's stateroom and questions him on which personnel he expects to perform well under adverse conditions and his overall feeling for where personnel might be used more efficiently. He finishes the briefing with a simple question. "Can you handle it?"

"The casualties are no problem, sir. Which cats will respond better is much more difficult. Only time will tell for sure."

"Unfortunately, we don't have much time, Lieutenant. There is a war starting, and real combat is going to come sooner than you think. I know these cats are your friends, but when you evaluate them, be harsh. It's the only way to keep them alive. In war, if you survive you're promoted, whether you're ready or not."

"I understand, sir. I'll do my best."

"Yes. I'm sure you will. I'll tell you when to get your 'casualties' lined up. That's all for now."

As Halftan leaves, Firemane lies down on his bed and sighs. Long ago the red-furred cat made his covenant with death. Now, for the first time, he holds the fate of hundreds of other cats in his claws. He asks himself, Am I going to lead these cats to their death, or bring them home alive? It's not about glory anymore. It's about survival.

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

"Battle Stations! Battle Stations! This is not a drill! Repeat -- this is not a drill," WhiteEar's voice booms throughout the ship as cats dash to their posts, some of them grumbling under their breath about 'Mindbender' simulations. Most, however, are spirited in their movements, still reveling in their astounding victory in their most recent mindbender.

Firemane is pleased when all stations report 'ready' in record time. He is relieved. The first few mindbenders had rattled most of the crew. But as they adapted and began treating the tests as simulations, the 'casualties' arose, and as expected many cats abandoned their posts to aid their comrades. The dressing down these cats received from Firemane was painfully direct, and led to total concentration on duty for the rest of the mindbenders. The desired effect had been achieved. The young cats were now treating each test as if it were real combat, though still convinced simulations were being run, hence maintaining their composure.

We're as ready as we'll ever be, the Captain thinks, silently praying for The Fates to be kind to his young crew in the coming hours.

"What have you got, WhiteEar?"

"Picking up a semi-regular delta-theta emissions from sector 4872-A9."

"Sentient?"

"Very likely. Running through cross-reference translation tables now."

Firemane waits patiently, knowing what the result will be.

"Characteristics of subspace encrypted data transmission."

"Can you match characteristics of encryption and wave band with known sentient space-faring races?"

"Not a standard code, but wave band consistent with band width used by Orion independent scouts and traders."

"Pirates," Firemane says with certainty.

Two Crewmen, monitoring the bridge's engineering console, glance at each other, one flicking his ears while the other's tail sags. Firemane sees the glance and knows immediately which cat picked Orions in the "who's-our-next-victim" betting pool. Firemane continues his dialogue with WhiteEar.

"Did you get a fix?"

"Bearing two-nine-five mark six -- best guess. Extreme sensor range, and it seems to be coming from the center of that binary star system."

"Helmsman . . . "

"Plotted and laid in, sir."

"Warp two point six. Passive sensors only, 'Biter. No need to let them know who's coming for dinner. Warm capacitors and then arm phasers. Load one standard scatter-pack and one suicide shuttle."

For the first time since the first mindbender had been run, the forward view screen shows the real scene before the ship. Windrider is pleased to be through with the double-course headache. Those cats who notice the subtle change in star fields and sensor readings all conclude that a new mindbender has just been engaged, rather than the truth, which is Firemane's grand mindbender has just been disengaged.

"Sensors having difficulty because of ion interference. Those stars may be a long way off, but the combination of gravitic harmonics is playing havoc with our optimum scanning capability," Highclimber notes.

"Windrider, given current position and heading, do we have a chart for this system?"

"Only sketchy data, sir." The data appears on the forward viewer. "It appears a nova wiped out most of two systems, then two smaller stars were formed. There's a spherical asteroid belt surrounding the area, and some evidence of a planet or large asteroid inside the belt."

Firemane examines the tactical display closely. He nods his head in appreciation of the pirates' choice of bases. The two stars create an almost impenetrable barrier for sensors to read through. The asteroid belt displayed, if it truly encircles the system, must be twenty times the diameter of the largest star system Firemane has ever encountered. Yet Firemane knows that the asteroid belt helps to further obscure a pirate base somewhere between his ship and the binary stars at the center of the system.

"Locate largest solid body and get us in there."

"Energy emissions at three-two-five mark six!"

"Very good, Highclimber. Take us in Windrider. Warp three. If we can detect them, they can probably see us. Bring fire control up and jam all standard frequencies, WhiteEar. Send subspace communiqué of our situation. Prepare log buoy to be jettisoned and head for starbase four should we be crippled."

"Jamming done, Captain, but ion distortion from the binary is disrupting subspace. I don't know how much Central Command will get."

"Leave the channel open anyway. Maybe they'll receive some of it. Find us a way through, Windrider."

The Kzinti warship accelerates as it nears the asteroid belt.

"Picking up faint radiation trail," announces Highclimber.

"Follow it Windrider. If the area is mined, it's probably the only safe path through the belt. Any idea what we're dealing with yet?"

"Too much interference," Highclimber responds.

"As soon as we get a good lock on the signal, I want all drone racks ready to fire."

***

[ORION CLUSTER CARTEL SUPPLY BASE]

On the tiny planetoid that Firemane hopes to destroy, confusion reigns. The inhabitants of the asteroid are in more than just a mild panic. The appearance of the Kzinti warship makes no sense, but spells disaster for those present. Luckily, word had been sent moments before the ship began jamming all communications.

The Captain of the Orion Battle Raider, Glass Inferno, curses his luck. Not only is he alone, his ship is half empty of its weaponry -- having been right in the middle of retooling. Two disruptors and four phaser-ones are not enough to defeat a Kzinti BC.

"Ready to transport, Captain Ice," a fourteen year old technician squeaks at the tall, tanned figure of Izzy Goldman.

"Energize," the black-haired Captain commands.

[BRIDGE - ORION BR GLASS INFERNO]

The Pirate Captain and three other officers sprint to the bridge of the ship. He silently thanks the Kzinti for providing the stolen transporter pads that allow him to return to his ship so rapidly. The first officer relinquishes the command seat upon the Captain's arrival. He gives the Captain a quick report, while he assumes his normal position at the weapons' console.

"Phasers warming, accelerating to warp two point one. Maximum power to ECM."

"Excellent, Oknar. They may know where we are, but they do not yet know just what we are. Don't stray too far from the planet, Nigel. I want to keep it between us as long as possible."

"Understood," the helmsman responds.

"That ship is not listed in our computer, Captain. We have every warship in the Kzinti fleet plotted within a few parsecs. Most are currently involved in a battle with the Lyrans at least a day distant from here. That ship should not exist," the Science Officer reports before the Captain can ask for the information.

"But it does exist -- and except for Teschler, all our units are waiting to scavenge after that very battle. We must hold on long enough for Teschler to return."

"If he heard us."

"If he didn't, then our only chance is to shoot the gap."

No reply is given to this statement other than disbelieving stares from most of those present. Oknar breaks the silence, "Then I certainly hope Teschler makes a hasty return."

All present nod in agreement.

***

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

"There, sir," Highclimber exclaims, pointing at the right edge of the viewer.

"Come right fifteen degrees, up angle two. Magnify visual," Firemane responds calmly.

For a moment the picture is crystal clear, showing a small planet or large asteroid with a tiny form disappearing behind the body just as the magnification takes effect. As they near the planetoid the picture begins to lose its clarity, jumping and spitting with the intermittent static.

"Why is it fading, Highclimber?"

"Whatever it is, he's using maximum ECM, sir. With their stealth design and the problems caused by the stars, we're dealing with a minus three sensor rating. We do have a lock onto the planetoid now, though."

"Did you get an I.D. on the object that went behind the planet?"

"No sir, but it was too large to be a satellite, and it was accelerating. It's definitely a ship of some kind."

"This has got to be a pirate base. As soon as he clears the planet, launch a scatter pack, speed zero, but target the planet, minimum launch time, minimum damage for release. If the ship is also a viable target when we launch, he will have to take the drones into account for his defense."

"There he is, sir. He's increasing speed and turning back toward the planet. Curious -- it doesn't match any Orion design in our database. I suppose it could be one of those new Battle Raider class attack vessels," Highclimber says with a pained tone.

"Any data on weapons employed?"

"With this level of interference, we'll have to reach 100,000 kilometers before we have a clue, sir. The ship's power signature is comparable to one of our CLs -- at least currently it is."

"Understood, Highclimber. Keep scanning the vessel thoroughly as we get closer. We may learn something useful for future engagements. Destroying this one could seriously hurt their pride. We have the advantage of size and surprise. We should take him easily. Let's do it."

"Twenty-four K to planet," Windrider announces. "He's cleared the planet. Looks like he's coming to play."

"Launch SP. I hope it worries him."

The Battle Raider glides past the small planet. The warp output of the Glass Inferno doubles as Firemane watches and gives his orders on his BC.

"Reinforce our forward shield by twenty percent. One third counter electronics. Begin weasel. Windrider, I want warp factor two point five for thirty seconds, then increase to two point nine. Allocate forty percent for a contingent HET and divert any remaining power into tractor."

"What about disruptors?" 'Biter asks hopefully.

"We'll try for a hack and slash anchor. No disruptors for the moment. We need the power elsewhere."

The crew responds enthusiastically. This is the maneuver used in their most recent mindbender duel. The type of weapons the pirate has could be critical, but all are confident that victory is imminent.

***

[BRIDGE - ORION BR GLASS INFERNO]

"As you predicted Captain, he's running one third counter-jamming. He's also slowing, sir," Oknar reports, performing his dual role as weapons and science officer. As on most pirate ships, crews are not large enough to allow the same level of specialization found on most war vessels.

"Overloads. We'll trade shots at eighty thousand and run. The jamming is in our favor. Take him obliquely."

"Programmed and ready, Captain Ice," Oknar responds in seconds, then adds, "Shuttle has blossomed. Detect five drones heading our way."

"They are no concern. We will not slow down enough for them to become a threat," Ice says calmly.

"Sir, Kzinti Captain hailing us," the normally forgotten communications officer interrupts.

"On screen."

"The tactical display on the viewer becomes a small box in the upper left hand corner of the screen as the bright red form of Firemane replaces the computer animated images. "This is Captain Firemane. Surrender your vessel immediately or face dire consequences."

The pirate Captain throws a questioning glance at his first officer. Oknar shrugs back, admitting he is unfamiliar with this Kzinti Captain. Ice, playing for time, speaks to Firemane as he tries to recall where he has heard the name before.

"What type of consequences, cat?"

"We shall blow you to bits."

As the two Captains spar verbally their ships close to firing range. Twin beams of Klingon death lash out from the pirate ship, though only one finds its mark. No visible damage is done to the Kzinti vessel, though the blast does jar the ship slightly. The phasers though, drop the shield by twenty percent.

Firemane growls his response at his counterpart, "That was a mistake, Captain . . . "

"Ice is the name."

The pirate ship turns away, and at almost the same instant the Kzinti Cruiser accelerates to pursue. The Glass Inferno is unable to maintain the distance, so the Kzinti ship closes on the weak rear screens of the smaller hull.

"He's closing, Captain. Range is 50,000 kilometers."

"Deploy mine."

***

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

On the BC, the crew waits impatiently for Firemane to give the order to fire. Firemane speaks, "Full reserves to counter-jamming. Lock primary phasers and fire!"

As the Kzinti warship fires, the mine left by the pirate detects the BC and explodes. The #6 shield of the Cruiser is reduced by the explosion, while her phasers rake across the rear screen of the pirate ship. The damage cuts the Glass Inferno's rear shield by half.

"Recharge phasers and batteries. Go to maximum counter-jamming and maintain tractor power. Best possible speed."

"Warp two point seven C, sir," Windrider announces.

"Do you want to maintain weasel, sir?" Halftan asks.

"No. He's got disruptors, so we won't need the weasel. But launch one standard two type IVs and one 8/18 drone in rapid succession at the planet as soon as we reach 120,000km of it."

Firemane sits silently wondering why the BR has so few weapons.

"Drones away," 'Biter notes.

***

[BRIDGE - ORION BR GLASS INFERNO]

Ice reinforces the rear screen enough to absorb the damage he expects from a full salvo of overloaded disruptors from the cats in chase. He does not understand why the barrage does not follow. On the Glass Inferno all on board begin to sweat.

"Captain, we cannot continue on this course. We're headed directly for the western star and our electrical systems are beginning to overload already!"

"We'll have to deal with those drones when we come about," Ice notes sourly.

"We've got one more t-bomb, sir."

"Drop #6 shield and deploy it as needed to kill those drones. Helm, after the mine is dropped you MUST maneuver to lock those SP drones into a course over the mine," Ice commands.

"Ready to . . . SIR! The drones . . . "

Ice realizes at the same moment his Exec does that the drones are not headed toward his ship.

"The base! Can we get to those drones in time?" Ice shouts.

"Doubtful," Oknar responds glumly.

Ice and his crew can only watch as the drones get through the paltry defenses of the planet, and slam into its surface. The explosions kill those still on the planet, along with the equipment they needed to keep their franchise going.

"We have lost our supply center. We cannot let them escape unharmed!" Ice vows.

Oknar rises from the weapons console and goes to his Captain. In a whisper that none of the others present can overhear Oknar reminds his Captain of one important point, "Sir, we cannot risk the loss or capture of this ship. We have the only two BRs in the clan. We cannot afford to lose this one. The base was useless to us the minute they entered the system. A new base will be easy to find. But we are outgunned."

Ice stares at the form of the Kzinti Battle Cruiser on his viewer and grins.

The navigator notices a change in the Kzinti ship's course and announces, "Captain, he's moving to cut us off!"

"Fine. We still have the interference working for us. We'll go to twenty thousand this time -- shoot our wad, then hightail it out of here. Power the tractors for drone defense."

The Inferno slows for just seconds to complete his turn toward the Cruiser, then accelerates to his maximum speed as he charges the Kzinti warship with all power systems at maximum.

***

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

"He's coming right at us!" an excited Crewman shouts at the unexpected maneuver.

"Stand by on tractor," Firemane orders calmly. "Launch one drone now. It will be just ahead of us when we get to tractor range. All cats, prepare for possible internal damage. Combat troops prepare for offensive boarding action."

[BRIDGE - ORION BR GLASS INFERNO]

The two ships charge each other like knights in a joust. Though the pirate has the smaller and swifter steed, it is the Kzinti who has the advantage in damage potential. As the ships close, the distance is counted off on the bridge of both vessels, "Eighty-thousand kilometers . . . Fifty . . . thirty . . . twenty . . . "

"Fire!" Ice shouts.

Energy bolts from the Glass Inferno make the forward shield of the Cruiser glow red for a moment until the screen collapses. The volley does mild damage to the hull of the Kzinti war ship, but fails to knock out any important systems.

The pirate vessel, having expended its total forward firing arsenal, wheels around 120 degrees, trying to keep the Cruiser off its battered rear screen. Unexpectedly, Captain Ice and his crew feel the unmistakable drag of a tractor beam grabbing at the Glass Inferno.

"Disrupt that tractor beam! We cannot afford to be caught!"

Only Ice's choice to power his tractors for drone defense saves them. It takes that power and his entire reserve to prevent the Kzinti from successfully anchoring the Inferno. The pirate vessel pauses for a moment, then slips through the grasp of the BC like a bar of wet soap.

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

Frustrated at his failure, Firemane orders 'Biter to fire everything that bears. Even with muted effectiveness, caused by the electronic interference of the pirate and the two suns, the phasers finish the rear screen of the pirate ship and do minor hull damage. The lone drone launched by the Cruiser grows closer to the pirate vessel as Firemane leans forward expectantly, waiting for it to strike the fleeing pirates engines and slow him, but he knows it is not swift enough to catch the BR.

"Stay on him!" Firemane shouts.

Windrider complies, praying they can kill the pirate ship soon. No simulation can rock a starship like real damage, and that last blast was definitely real. He thinks nervously, When the cadets figure it out, I hope they hold together.

Firemane thinks the same thing as they continue to shadow the pirate.

***

[BRIDGE - ORION BR GLASS INFERNO]

The Glass Inferno cannot escape before the Kzinti can rearm. His reserve power is used up. He does manage to get the Kzinti onto his #3 shield, protecting the down #4 for the moment. The Captain of the pirate vessel knows he is beaten. Ice then gives the order that he assumes will be his last.

"Maximum speed. Course one-one-one mark one. We're leaving."

"Sir," Oknar breaks in, "we can't make it through the asteroids at that speed."

"I know. We're going to shoot the gap!"

No one responds to this statement, except with silent prayers and imperceptible shudders.

"Ice continues his orders, "I want maximum speed, maximum jamming, power up for an HET, and put everything else into general shield reinforcement."

***

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

On the Kzinti Cruiser, Firemane orders every weapon on his ship charged to maximum. The Cruiser slows to a crawl to deliver this massive blow. Even with the interference the force he will use this time should be almost impossible to withstand.

The Cruiser lashes out with disruptors, phasers, and launches another pair of drones. The energy weapons bite through the shield and reinforcement to burn the enemy hull. The pounding the ship takes is substantial, but the pirate vessel manages to HET and begins heading directly toward the Kzinti BC.

"Launch drones, all active racks!" Firemane commands.

The Battle Raider slips past the drones nimbly and continues flying toward the stars with the drones in chase until it disappears from the Cruiser's sensors. Firemane frowns as the image of the pirate ship vanishes from the viewscreen, leaving just the golden inferno of the stars on the screen.

"Divert power to repair shields. Damage report, Sabretongue."

The reply over the comm system is brief. "Minor damage to our hull. Three percent loss of warp capacity and Auxiliary Control received minor damage."

"You know the drill, Chief. Firemane out."

"Windrider, plot course for close scan of planet, and then get us the hells out of here."

"Yes, sir," he responds enthusiastically.

"Highclimber, what's the chance that ship could have survived?"

"Going through that gap?"

"Yes."

"Zero, sir."

"Why didn't we see an explosion, then?"

"The stars' radiation obscured our sensors."

"Right. Begin scan of planet."

"Scanning. Several fires -- some debris -- no life signs."

Firemane recalls a day many years before when the Lyrans attacked a defenseless planet. Though he has won, he does not feel the joy he expected.

"Take us home, Windrider. Take us home."

Moments after the Kzinti Cruiser exits the system, another pirate vessel appears on the scene, and examines the devastation left behind. Captain Teschler takes little time to assess the damage as he silently wonders what has become of Ice and the Glass Inferno.

***

[BRIDGE - KZINTI BC #18]

"Captain Firemane?"

"Yes, Lieutenant . . . Furrypaws, isn't it?"

"Um, yes sir. That was no drill, was it?"

Firemane pauses, watching the spec of light from the double-star system shrink to nothingness on the forward viewscreen as his ship hurtles toward home at high warp.

"No, Lieutenant. That was real."

The young officer's expression changes, as he nervously licks his nose three times. Then, as he realizes the battle is over and they have won, the young warrior speaks again, with a tone of gloating relief. "We sure did set that Ice on fire, didn't we Captain?"

Firemane nods at the Lieutenant "Yes, we did." Then Firemane cocks his head in thought, "Hmmm, Ice on Fire -- I like the sound of that."

***

[BRIDGE - ORION BR GLASS INFERNO]

Far away from Firemane and his Cruiser, a battered and burnt pirate ship drifts through space, trailing a gray cloud of smoke. The crewmen that remain alive work in the blistering hot interior of the ship, trying to restore the life-support system. Captain Ice works with them, all the while vowing that he will meet this Firemane again. "Next time," he says aloud, "I will be ready, and that cat will die."

***