[Y155 - KZINTI CENTRAL COMMAND COMPLEX]

Admiral Goldpaw examines the intelligence reports carefully. Three commodores sit around the massive granite table that dominates the spartan conference room, nervously wondering what is to come. The intercom buzzes and the Admiral's secretary announces the arrival of a final guest. Goldpaw presses the lock release, and a tall cat wrapped in cloaks from head to tail steps through the door.

Admiral Goldpaw stands and moves toward the figure and speaks, "Great cats, I present to you a ghost."

The unidentified guest begins removing the cloak, revealing his face. Silence fills the room as the three commodores recognize him.

"Rushwind?" Commodore Swayback asks, his short, leopard-spotted coat bristling in disbelief.

"Correct," replies the tall, dark brown cat.

"But you were lost five years ago with the White Dwarf in the Tempest," Commodore BlackEye says, shaking his head as if to clear his vision.

"The reports of my demise were intentionally fabricated. By the way Admiral, here are the design specs on the carrier and fighter production lines you requested," Rushwind continues, handing Goldpaw several hard-copy printouts with intricate drawings on them.

"Thank you," Goldpaw replies as he takes the papers, gives them a hasty glance and then drops them into a disintegration chute.

"You've been in charge of the fighter/carrier Research & Development?" asks BlackEye, scratching his snow white mane nervously.

"What do you mean intentionally fabricated?" asks Commodore Wildmane.

The Admiral waves the others into silence, clearly enjoying their consternation. "One question at a time, sirs. Give Captain Rushwind a chance to explain," he implores before returning to his seat.

"As to whether I've been in charge of fighter R&D, in a manner of speaking, you're correct. Five years ago the Lyrans came very close to destroying me and my ship. Operation Phoenix was just getting underway, and the timing was rather convenient. I and the White Dwarf were listed as destroyed, and I became a consultant for the security on the project."

"Operation Phoenix? This was for developing fighters?" asks Commodore Swayback, still confused by Rushwind's miraculous reappearance.

"Not exactly. That was only a misdirectional ploy. We did bring in some of our R&D scientists and told them that was what we wanted, while word of the program was leaked. In actuality, we have constructed a 'Ghost' fleet."

"'Ghost' fleet?" asks Commodore Blackeye.

"The White Dwarf, Starfire, and a few other ships . . . "

"But those vessels were destroyed years ago," notes Commodore Swayback.

"Nearly destroyed. We've diverted materials at a remarkably slow pace to keep the repair work secret. We had the R&D hangar space to hide them, and we painted markings of currently active vessels on them when we needed to move them for any reason," Rushwind explains.

Admiral Goldpaw interrupts, "We also received an unexpected benefit. By changing ship numbers in space dock, we fouled up some of the Lyran intelligence reports. Certain ships were reported in two places at once, which really confused them. We have even learned they believe this ploy is something we are doing intentionally, to feed them bad information as to the whereabouts of some of our vessels, so we've begun altering the markings of ships in spacedock throughout the fleet repair facilities, just to keep them guessing."

"We also purposefully leaked information to the effect that Rushwind and White Dwarf survived, while he and the ship disappeared from the front," Goldpaw explains.

"Yes. That covered us from all those that saw me and White Dwarf return. I'm sure you're all familiar with the public relations tour my double went on, followed by the controversy raised when the press corps identified him as an imposter, and then the 'official' word that I had 'retired' due to injuries in combat."

"And though our counter-intelligence forces indicate there are some Lyran factions that still believe Rushwind survived, the official word of his destruction was announced by the Lyran government roughly a month after the combat. And, or course, the more our propaganda machine said Rushwind lived, the more their's trumpeted his death," the Admiral concludes.

"So why are you coming out of hiding now?" asks Commodore Wildmane, as he twirls his long blonde fur around a razor-sharp nail.

"He is here to help us decide the most effective way to deploy our hidden assets and coordinate their positioning for our upcoming offensive. We are ready for our counter-attack as you all know. The 'Ghost' fleet will slash their morale into bits if used correctly. Opinions?"

"We must wait and think this out carefully," urges Blackeye. "This is too great an asset to risk without a well conceived plan. We must postpone the offensive to give us time to plan everything correctly."

"You've been preaching caution ever since you made Commodore," Swayback sneers at the white cat with the large black circle around his left eye.

"No -- we cannot afford to wait," notes the Admiral. "It has been nearly impossible to keep the 'Ghost' fleet secret this long. Each day we wait to use them gives Lyran spies another day to discover what we've done."

"I agree. It is too late to alter our plans," Commodore Wildmane notes.

Goldpaw rises and moves to the blank, rear wall of the room. He presses a button, which turns the wall into a highly detailed viewscreen, showing the sector of space they are discussing. "The general plan has not changed. We'll take Alpha fleet around the left flank and cut across behind the Lyrans' forward groups, cutting three supply lines, while the other fleets attack here and here," he says, pointing at two blinking areas on the map, "leaving them nowhere to withdraw. I think we all agree splitting up the group would be a major mistake. Now who needs the reserve support the most?" the Admiral asks, retaking his seat.

The three commodores all begin giving reasons why their fleets need the reserve the most.

Rushwind, who has watched the discussion in silence finally speaks. "Admiral, may I?"

"Certainly, Captain," Goldpaw answers waving the others into silence.

Rushwind moves to the display. "The way I see it, the plan is workable as far as it goes. However, if we imagine we were in the Lyrans' tracks, their logical response to our offensive points to one vulnerable spot -- the right flank. If all goes well, our thrust here will cover it quickly enough to avoid counter-attack. But, if they react swiftly, our offensive bogs down, or they retreat in this direction initially," he says, pointing to an almost deserted area of the map, "they will have a chance to outflank us on the right, giving them a free shot at these three bases. If they take those out we'll have a spiral fight for a year or more heading toward our homeworlds instead of theirs."

The officers judge Rushwind's estimates and take only a few moments to agree he is correct in his assessment of the situation.

"What you say makes sense, but it will still take time to set up and coordinate with the other battle groups. And if I understand what you've done, these ships are spread randomly throughout our repair and construction facilities. Or do you have a 'ghost' base to rally this fleet from?" BlackEye asks scornfully.

"You are correct that currently the ships of the 'ghost' fleet are stationed at a wide variety of ports within our borders. However, there is a logical supply point where we can consolidate and base the 'Ghost' fleet . . . here at Lotherion IV. It is a penal mining facility with limited resources, but will serve nicely as a temporary command base. This will guard the right flank and allow reasonable response time to any Lyran successes against our center thrust. If all goes well, it will allow a much faster pivot around the right side of the formation after the point is set on the left."

"Meaning we'll end up in Lyran space rather than just re-acquiring the area we've lost." Commodore Swayback interjects with sudden understanding.

"Precisely," Rushwind nods.

"Who is going to lead the 'Ghost' fleet?" asks Blackeye.

"Captain Longwhisker, late of the Starfire."

"Another ghost Captain?"

"Yes, and this one is moving up in his afterlife. Just compensation for a year and a half lay-off, don't you think?" the Admiral says. "His former Exec will get the Starfire, while he takes the White Dwarf. We're running low on experienced 'ghost' Captains at the moment."

"But why not give White Dwarf to Rushwind?" Swayback asks.

Rushwind and Goldpaw purr in unison. "Rushwind will help coordinate the fleet from the Primary Command Center," the Admiral explains. "We've installed some extra comm equipment for ship-to-ship communications so it can appear the he is in command of every vessel in the fleet. Any direct communications with the Lyrans will be routed through the subspace relay network so he can interact with the opposing commanders. As supersticious as they are, we figure we've got an even money chance of rattling at least a few of their Captains."

As the group chuckles, the intercom buzzer sounds, though no words are spoken.

"Excuse me, I think my assistant is having trouble with the intercom again." the Admiral apologizes as he exits the room. Fifteen seconds later the Admiral re-enters, accompanied by two security guards.

"Blackeye, you are under arrest."

Everyone turns toward Blackeye, whose astonished look is genuine enough, though somewhere deep within his eyes there is an instant of hatred that Rushwind imagines he sees.

"On what charge?" Blackeye sputters as he stands.

As the two security guards begin moving around the table, Blackeye springs at the Admiral across the table. Before the guards can get to him, Blackeye has Goldpaw in a deadly embrace, as his fangs search for the Admiral's neck.

A powerful claw grips Blackeye's shoulder from behind and nails plunge deep into his flesh. The traitor is pulled, struggling, away from the Admiral.

He turns quickly, expecting to find a security guard, but instead meets Rushwind's eyes, just before Rushwind's fist rocks his head back. The two guards render the stunned cat comatose with a neural blocker, and remove him from the conference room.

"What's the meaning of all this?" Commodore Wildmane demands.

Admiral Goldpaw, between breaths answers, "He's a Lyran spy, and has been feeding information to the enemy for years."

"I don't believe it," Swayback blanches.

"Neither did we. Now we must assess the damage," the Admiral notes, retaking his seat.

"Do the Lyrans know of our current strategy?" asks Wildmane.

The Admiral sighs, "Almost certainly."

"Then we must call it off!" Swayback urges.

"No," Rushwind says calmly.

"What do you mean, no?" the Admiral asks.

"I've learned quite a bit during my stint in Covert Services. First, it will be a while before they know we've caught him. If we suddenly move ships, or back off our plan, they'll know we're onto them, and we'll lose a chance to foul up their intelligence network. Second, BlackEye's pleas for time would seem to indicate they still know nothing of the 'Ghost' fleet, and if so, their most probable strategy is contingent on right flank success against our present positioning. Third, if they already know of our attack plan, their most likely response is a preemptive strike to disrupt our own. Instead of altering our plan, we must move it up a day or two."

"Blackeye's arguments for waiting could also be an indication the Lyran's need more time to prepare for this thrust, so in principal I agree with you, Captain. However, moving up our attack schedule is easier said then done," Admiral Goldpaw says.

"We have another problem, Admiral." Swayback contends.

"Which is?"

"With BlackEye out of the picture, we are now one fleet Commodore short, and we have little time to fully brief anyone else. Incorporating the 'Ghost' fleet into our battle plans will be hard as it is. Trying to bring someone of Command grade up to speed on the overall picture is going to be difficult, if not impossible."

"Yes, we are all aware that we have had a run of bad luck where experienced Captains are concerned. We've lost a number of competent, experienced officers recently, who we're still having trouble replacing. Where are we going to find an experienced Command grade officer not already . . . " Wildmane says, pausing as a thought occurs to all present.

Silence fills the room, and Goldpaw, following Wildmane's gaze, turns and looks questioningly into Rushwind's eyes. Rushwind closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When his eyes open, a spark that has been missing is again present, dancing behind the grey orbs. "It cannot be helped. I'll do it . . . assign Captain Longwhisker to Blackeye's ship. I'll take White Dwarf."

***

The White Dwarf orbits Lotherion IV, standing a vigilant watch, like a loyal pet beside its master. The crew is at full alert as their new commander coordinates transfer of supplies from the planet below. The crew is a haphazzard collection of survivors from other vessels recently put out of action by the escalating Lyran attacks, surplus personnel who assisted in her repair, and raw cadets fresh out of the Institute. Since many of the crew are inexperienced and not yet battle tested, they are visibly nervous.

Whether battle-weary or untested, the quiet conversations amongst the crew are limited to two topics -- the rumors and gossip of how the war is progressing, and the miraculous ressurection of Rushwind. For some of the less experienced, suddenly finding themselves assigned to a Command Cruiser, preparing to enter a major battle, would have been their greatest fear. But the revelation that they are to be commanded by Captain Rushwind, a living legend, these same untested crew members drive themselves to improve their performance for the cat they are certain will bring them victory.

The Exec sits in the command seat endlessly rolling his nails across the arm of the chair, his nervous habit becoming painfully irritating to those present. After enduring the annoyance for some time, a brave lieutenant can hold his tongue no longer.

"Commander Brushback?"

"Yes, Lieutenant GreenEyes?"

"May I go get a chalk board for you to drag your claws across? I think it would help relax the crew."

A stifled purr of laughter escapes from several of the crew members.

"What?"

"Your nails, sir. You keep tapping them on your armrest, and it's curling my fur."

"Oh, I wasn't aware. I'll try not to disturb you in the future Ensign . . . I mean Lieutenant GreenEyes."

The small jibe is as mild a rebuke as Brushback can manage. The laughter has saved the Lieutenant, because Brushback was trying to figure a way to ease the tension when the junior officer spoke.

As the cats go back to monitoring their instruments, Brushback mumbles quietly, "Was I really tapping my nails?" then begins chewing on one as he ponders the question.

***

The Regent in charge of Lotherion IV appears in the doorway to the transporter room of the only reasonably modern building on the planet. Rushwind finishes materializing, and immediately moves toward the flabbergasted bureaucrat.

"Welcome to Hell's Mar . . . I mean Lotherion IV. What can I do for you, Captain?" he stammers at the cat he had thought dead.

"I'm here to resupply my ship and inspect your planetary defenses," Rushwind lies.

"Defenses? We're a penal colony. Our systems are designed to keep cats on the planet, not away from it. I don't see . . ."

"There's a war going on, if you haven't noticed."

"But we're so far inside the . . . "

"Not anymore. The Lyrans have broken through, and we expect they may attack here at any time," Rushwind lies.

Rushwind has to stifle a purr as he watches the Regent's eyes grow large with fear and surprise. He relaxes, now certain that the bureaucrat will not waste his time bartering for entertainment vids or fresh Velaerrsia from the home worlds. As he begins telling the Regent what he requires, he wonders just how far his story really is from the truth.

The next few hours are consumed altering the programming on the half dozen satellites above the planet, and doing minor repairs and maintenance on them as well as preparing the small landing facility for possible Lyran attack. Though Rushwind knows the changes are all but useless, he is happy that it keeps the Regent, him and many of his crew members busy, while they wait for the other ships in his task force to arrive.

As repair crews from the White Dwarf swarm about the small facility making adjustments to extend the range of the planet's decades old sensors, Rushwind tours the facility with its warden. "Tell me, what was it you called the planet when I first arrived? Hell something-or-other?"

"Hell's Marble, Captain. It's what the inmates call it, and I so rarely hear the official name, I responded out of habit."

"I see. Exactly what types of criminals do you keep here?" Rushwind knows the answer, and tunes the Regent's mindless babbling out. As they walk down a corridor leading to the dining facility, the base P/A shrieks. A computer generated voice comes to life as klaxons sound and whistles blow. "Warning! Perimeter alert! Enemy force approaching, bearing zero zero nine mark fifteen."

As the message repeats, Rushwind turns and bolts for the transporter station located at the far end of the corridor. He nearly tramples several technicians from the White Dwarf also dashing for the transporters. Rushwind activates his wrist-comm and tells them to prepare to beam them up. In moments Rushwind and the half dozen technicians are aboard the White Dwarf once more.

Rushwind sprints to the bridge the instant he solidifies. He is not the only cat sprinting through the corridors, though the others give him a wide berth, and some attempt a hasty salute.

Charging onto the bridge, Rushwind starts giving orders, "Power phasers -- load scatter-pack with basic four and four mix -- transporter crews beam up any ships personnel still planetside. Contact the Regent."

The Regent's face appears on the screen, but before he can open his mouth, Rushwind orders him to have a full set of spare drones moved to the transporter station for possible transfer to the White Dwarf. The cat acknowledges the communication and is cut off before he can say anything else.

"Range and targets," Rushwind hisses as a view of the system is displayed on the viewscreen.

"They're still about one meg away and moving warp two point seven. We have nine ships on sensors, types still unknown. They came around the star and kept the asteroid belt between them and us, otherwise we might have had them sooner. Looks like three are size class three, and six are size fours, sir. It'll take another minute or two to sort out hull types."

"Nine on one is not good odds."

"Nine to seven, sir. The rest of our fleet is arriving now."

"Tactical! On screen!"

The forward screen displays the solar system. Coming from the center of the system are the nine Lyran ships, still packed tightly together within ten thousand kilometers of each other. From the other direction two groups of ships move toward the planet the White Dwarf is orbiting. The closer of the two groups consists of a Strike Cruiser and two frigates 500,000 kilometers away. Some 800,000 kilometers behind them a CS and two CLs race to catch up.

"Tell the ground base to prepare for bombardment. Subspace to Central Command our current situation. Plot course zero four three mark fourteen, and tell the children to meet us there. Tell Captain Sidewinder to have his squadron ready to take them from the rear if the Lyrans turn. Let's go."

The starship begins moving away from the planet. She gathers speed and joins the CS and twin frigates as the Lyrans continue to close. The Kzinti CS Starfire and two CLs, Witchcraft and Warlock parallel their course from almost a million kilometers away. The trio must wait to join the fray.

Rushwind's outlines his plan. "While the other three get into position, we'll launch drones, take a long shot at the Lyran Command ship, and then turn left, away from our other ships."

As his orders are executed, Rushwind watches the display at the bottom of the viewscreen identifying targets. He curses aloud when the Lyran ship at the rear of the enemy formation is identified as a scout.

The Lyran fleet returns fire from extreme range. "Frigate number forty-three lost its forward deflector, though internal damage is inconsequential," Rushwind's science officer says.

"We managed to weaken the Lyran Command warship's forward deflector by half, but they're not slowing, sir."

"Contact the Starfire. Tell Sidewinder to work around to the rear and take out that Scout. They may not have detected his squadron yet, if they're concentrating sensors on us. Begin dropping mines."

The message is sent as Rushwind watches the Lyrans deal with the drone swarm he has sent their way. He looks gravely at the list of enemy ships on the bottom of the display and knows he is severely outgunned. I came out of retirement for this? he asks silently.

***

The Lyran Command Cruiser, Magician runs directly into a small mine left by the White Dwarf. Captain Tab curses at the unexpected damage. "Spread the formation and raise ESG set on maximum range. It will detonate the mines before they can damage us." Before the ESG comes up, two more mines detonate, denting the Command ship's #1 and #6 sheilds considerably, while the two others damage a CL's shielding as well.

"Accelerate to catch the fleeing pigs!" Tab shouts. "We'll carve them up from smallest to largest."

The Captain of the Lyran Scout, Predator's Eye hisses at the screen showing their Command ship taking repeated damage from Kzinti mines.

"Tab said there was not going to be opposition here. He's a bumbling fool. We've got them outnumbered two to one, and he's going to get us all killed anyway unless Slashback pulls his tail out of the fire again," Captain Whitenose hisses.

"Switch power to counter-jamming for destroyers Rage and Anger. They're the closest to the left flank. Maybe we can . . . what is it, Littleclaw? Something else on sensors?" Whitenose asks.

"Oh gods," the sensor operator whispers.

Captain Whitenose's hair stands on end as he pushes the Lieutenant out of the way and examines the sensor display. Three large Kzinti warships are listed on the display, approaching quickly from behind. He punches the comm-button to contact his fleet commander. "Three Kzinti warships, all cruiser-class, coming in at eight o'clock, warp factor three, range 480,000 kilometers!"

The two seconds that pass as he waits for a reply seem like an eternity. As he silently curses Tab, additional information is displayed beside the images of the ships scattered about the screen as the library computer identifies the markings of the enemy vessels.

"Acknowledged. Stand-by," is the curt reply that finally comes from the Command ship. Captain Whitenose licks his nose nervously as the names of the enemy ships blink on the science monitor before him.

On the Magician, Captain Tab curses his luck. He finds himself between two forces that were not supposed to be here. He starts to give an order, but pauses when the tactical display is updated from the Scout's feed, identifying the Command Cruiser they oppose as White Dwarf, carrying its original markings. Tab suppresses a shudder as he recalls the last time White Dwarf was seen in combat -- five years past. His thoughts of quickly subduing the planet, and then racing to his primary target, are gone. The entire plan is unraveling, and he knows he must fight a battle that he has no time for. The murmuring of his bridge crew when White Dwarf is identified only increases his agitation at the prospect of fighting a ship he knows no longer exists.

"Turn toward the new threat," he commands, delaying a direct assault on White Dwarf. "Target the closest CL. Fire disruptors!"

The Lyran armada swings around like a flock of birds as massed disruptors rock the forward screens of the closest CL, Warlock. The distance between the Lyran ships increases with each turn, as the fleet spreads out more and more.

"Several direct hits, but we our fire was divided over two shields, so we failed to do internal damage, sir."

Tab acknowledges his sensor operator with a growl.

When the Lyran fleet turns to meet the new threat, the Magician moves to the right flank as an unlucky destroyer goes from left flank to point. When the Lyrans finish their turn, White Dwarf and her compatriots react and maneuver to close the vice.

Captain Slashback, aboard the rebuilt Lyran destroyer, Rage, examines the tac-display carefully. As the order is given to engage the new threat, he immediately activates his ESG. The frigate to his left follows suit. Each commander knows they must be careful to avoid running into one another with the energy spheres. I hate fleet actions, Slashback thinks. I'd much prefer an even duel. It's often harder to overcome the mistakes of my fellow Captains than my enemies.

He recalls the battles over the last several years that have advanced the career of the idiot Tab, while preventing him from advancing out of his destroyer to a cruiser command of his own. The memory of the battle five years ago in the strange ion storm when Rushwind and White Dwarf had been defeated haunts him. Even now he bristles at being ordered by the Fleet Admiral to alter his battle report to support the conclusion that Rushwind and White Dwarf had indeed been destroyed.

Slashback growls internally at the stupidity of the upper echelon, more concerned with politics and propaganda than facts. But, the political gains the Duke enjoyed by making Tab a hero for the efforts of the late Captain Greyfoot had been too attractive to pass up. Tab had gotten command of the CA Magician while Slashback waited for a new DD to come off the line. And after surviving a few minor combats, the CA had been upgraded to a full CC.

Of course, I must admit, Tab realizes he's an idiot, which is why he constantly throws me out into the Lions' Den first, he thinks as he closes with three Kzinti warships.

While stray thoughts filter through his mind, his wide eyes take in every nuance of the enemy ships dancing on the view screen. He catches every subtle movement and hesitation of the enemy CS and its escorts as they spiral around the Lyran battle force, trying desperately to reach the valuable Scout now only a few thousand kilometers off his port beam.

As the Rage chases the Kzinti trio, like a cat chasing its tail, Slashback's Exec comments, "One CL would be an even fight. You might even beat two on a good day. But we are no match for all three at once, sir."

Before Slashback can reply, the sensor operator speaks. "Sir, something of interest."

"What is it?"

"The Eye relayed identification for those ships. The CC in the foursome behind us is White Dwarf, and she has her original markings."

"Rushwind is back!" It is not a question. "Try to raise him. I want a visual for our log. I bet Tab is having kittens," he almost laughs.

"Sir, shouldn't we contact Fleet Commander, Tab to . . . "

"Do what I say, when I say it, Ensign. Raise the White Dwarf, and do it now!"

"Sir, according to the computer, ALL of these ships have been destroyed during the past four years. The closing CS is Starfire, and the near CL is Witchcraft, which was destroyed just last year," the Science Officer notes. "It could just be some Kzinti trickery."

"Interesting." Slashback responds. "You could be right, but I'll bet a weeks pay that Rushwind is on White Dwarf."

"You're on, Captain."

Slashback returns his attention to the battle at hand. "They're moving too fast for overloads. Lock weapons on them. We're going in!"

Almost on cue the CLs Witchcraft and Warlock slow, while the Starfire continues around the rear of the Lyran formation at high speed.

"Hold on!" shouts Slashback as Kzinti Disruptors fire. Much to his surprise and relief the bolts slam into the frigate, Whammer to his left. The deflector is too thin, and the damage too great. The frigate slows to a crawl as the other ships continue to move.

Drones leap from the two CLs and race toward the sitting duck. With his ESG at 20,000 kilometers from his ship, Slashback guides the DD toward the reduced firepower of the two light cruisers. With the electronic support of the Scout, the destroyer's targeting is more accurate than their enemies'. The Rage manages to take the phaser fire from one Kzinti with only mild shield damage. The DD then pounces on the enemy, the ESG smashing the Warlock's shields, and then a full complement of phasers unleash their destructive force on the Kzinti ship.

While Rage pounds on the Warlock. the CS, Starfire reaches the Scout.

Whitenose reacts too slowly. "Hard to starboard! Get us out of here!"

The tiny Lyran ship just begins her turn when the Starfire catches her. The phasers and standard disruptors break through the egg-shell deflector that guards the rear of the tiny vessel, and wreak havoc on the internal systems of the craft. Robbed of her power, the vessel slows dramatically and watches helplessly as the CS launches drones at point blank.

The explosion of the small ship is seemingly defiant in its effect of weakening the Starfire's #6 shield. With the Scout destroyed, the Lyran ships are suddenly robbed of their electronic superiority.

The timing is especially bad for Slashback and his destroyer. Having hurt the first CL, his DD shoots past the injured Kzinti, and finds itself 20,000 kilometers directly behind the Witchcraft. The Kzinti phaser barrage knocks his #5 shield aside and slices through the destroyer's belly, doing damage to multiple systems.

With the Scout's destruction, Captain Tab realizes he has lost his electronic superiority. He also notices they are drawing closer to the planet's defensive satelite system. "Withdraw! We must get out of range of that planet!" he screams over the Lyran battle-channel.

The Lyran fleet continues its left-hand turn, away from White Dwarf and the planet, with Slashback's DD leading the way. The injured Kzinti CL, Warlock slows and is overrun and destroyed by the Lyran fleet before it can reload, though this is accomplished with the use of more firepower than is strictly necessary.

Slashback knows the Kzinti have managed to exchange one CL for a frigate and their Scout, while his ship, the Rage, is marginally hurt as well. The odds are suddenly much closer to even. Slashback hears the retreat command and is infuriated.

"Prepare for a full about! And get me Tab, NOW!!!"

"What is it, Captain?" Tab responds irritably, as his form appears on the viewscreen. Having just been informed that none of the vessels firing at them should exist has only served to increase his agitation.

"I'm going to HET and blow the son of a dog up for real this time. You can make whatever cowardly move you want, SIR! Slashback out." The communication is cut and Slashback continues giving orders. "Power phasers and overload our disruptor. We can't waste the power on rearming the ESG. Prepare to deploy a fake mine as we come about. The idea of a mine field might slow the CS and CL some. Let's hope somebody follows our lead, or this is going to be a short offensive."

***

On White Dwarf, while the crew cheers, Rushwind puzzles over the combat. "They fly in circles, and seem to have no plan. That one destroyer is the only one of them who's done any damage to speak of. Am I missing something Brushback?"

"I don't believe so. This fleet has seen action before with mixed results. According . . . "

The Comm-officer interrupts, announcing, "The destroyer is trying to raise us, though."

"The DESTROYER???" Rushwind knows that destroyer Captains do not contact fleet commanders -- especially when their fleet leader's ship is unscathed. Rushwind's sixth sense rings warning bells, and he commands the Kzinti ships to prepare for a possible re-engagement. His final command is to overload disruptors, which surprises almost everyone, since the Lyran fleet is out of overload range and apparently in full retreat.

Tab realizes that Slashback's challenge has put him in a no-win situation. If I turn around, I bow to his authority. If I don't, I'm deemed a coward. Damn you Slashback, I ought to blow you up instead, he scowls inwardly. When he speaks, his tone is one of resignation, "Plot hard about, overload disruptors, all ships."

For just a moment every ship in the battle is racing toward the red giant at the center of the system, as the Witchcraft returns to the side of Starfire, and both turn to parallel the course the Lyrans are on. A single transporter activates through the down #5 shield of Slashback's destoyer, placing a t-bomb in a seemingly inconsequential spot.

The next moement, Rage wheels 180 degrees around and begins dashing through her fleet, back toward the White Dwarf and the three sister ships with her. In a blink of an eye, the other six Lyran vessels follow suit, and a fleet formation remarkably similar to their initial deployment takes shape. The CC Magician leads the fleet, nearly 20,000kms ahead of her compatriots.

"I knew it!" Rushwind thunders, thrilled that his long dormant battle instincts are intact. "Hold steady, gunner. Concentrate fire on the Command ship." Rushwind pauses, watching the bearing and distance numbers changing rapidly on the tactical display. With the Kzinti fleet packed tightly together, they all reach optimal range of the Lyran CC while the rest of the spread out Lyran fleet remains slightly out of overload range. "Launch drones. Fire phaser-ones and disruptors."

As Rushwind's commands are followed, Captain Tab's orders are carried out as well. Both ESGs are energized, though at only half strength. His CC fires its disruptors as the previously targeted Kzinti FF reaches 80,000 kilometers.

The exchange of fire between the two races is an uneven one. The Lyran Command ship shakes violently as seven disruptor bolts connect, along with multiple phasers. The Lyran's weakened shield collapses and considerable internal damage is sustained. The CC's own disruptor fire pours through the Kzinti frigate's down screen, and knocks out multiple weapon system, but leaves the warp drive mostly intact.

Captain Tab is knocked from his feet by falling debris, and is rendered unconscious. The crew of the Magician continue following his last instructions, too busy to notice his condition, but unable to ignore the poor condition of their ship. The crippled Command Cruiser slows from its attack speed slightly as the rest of the Lyran fleet begins to pass it. Before the explosions within the CC stop, the Kzinti fleet turns sharply and heads toward Hell's Marble, with the Lyran fleet in pursuit.

For a moment it appears that the Kzinti ships will avoid the maximum firing range from the bulk of the Lyran fleet, as both fleets begin to reduce speed to balance the power drain the complex maneuvering has created. The timing is close, and half the Lyran ships reach 80,000 kilometers just moments before they are forced to dump the energy from their disruptors to avoid a circuit overload.

As they reach 80,000 kilometers, Slashback realizes the other two destroyers, and the Lyran frigate cannot quite get to firing range. Having already leaped over the bounds of his authority, and infuriated by Tab's lack of leadership, Slashback begins giving orders to the rest of the fleet, and waits for Tab's rebuke.

"CL's, fire disruptors and phasers -- then tractor the Anger and Growler and pull them forward. Target the Strike Cruiser beside the White Dwarf."

The disruptors from the Lyran trio hit the Kzinti Strike Cruiser Black Hole, as all four Kzinti ships counter by launching drones. The combined fire of the Lyrans obliterates the rear shield of the CS, and does moderate damage to the mid-sized hull. Then tractor beams extend from the CLs to the two trailing DDs, as the larger vessels slingshot the smaller ships forward.

Rushwind curses in anger at the tactic employed by his opponent. It is a maneuver he had used himself years ago, making it that much harder to swallow. "All ships, maximum acceleration, power transporters and rearm phasers. Warm up our tractor. I suspect they'll slow after they fire, so we might be able to pull someone along. We'll beam as many drones as we can off the planet, circle back for one last shot, and then run like hells. Rushwind out. Communications, contact the Starfire and the Witchcraft and confirm they know the rendezvous point."

While his crew comply with their Captain's orders, Rushwind looks at the viewer, knowing the CS Black Hole beside him is about to be hit with another volley of phasers and overloaded disruptors. He also knows there is nothing he can do to stop it.

Two hundred thousand kilometers behind the Lyran fleet, the Starfire and Witchcraft complete their turn, and move slowly toward Hell's Marble, slightly off the course the Lyrans have taken. Captain Sidewinder notes the t-bomb beamed from the Rage and gives the area the Lyran fleet just swept through a wide berth. The harmless mine casing Slashback dropped forces him to consider the possibility of a mine field laid by the seven ships they face. So the stray pair arc slowly around the track the Lyran fleet has cut, to avoid the possibly dangerous area, keeping themselves a respectable distance from friends and enemies alike.

The two Lyran destroyers are flung forward by the tractor slingshot, and as they are released, fire their freshly overloaded disruptors, while the other Lyran ships rearm. Half the weapons connect, which easily eats through the general reinforcement the Black Hole puts up. The damage slows the Black Hole nominally, and strips more of its weapons complement away. The Kzinti ships continue running from the Lyrans and slip toward Hell's Marble, while the pack of Lyrans maneuver to retain the weak rear shields of the Kzinti quartet. The drones launched by the Kzinti force the Lyran ships to lose ground, even as more drones are launched.

Another barrage from the Lyrans hits the already injured frigate #43 with a combination of disruptors and phasers. Forced to slice through another shield, only minor damage is incurred, but the weapons imbalance between the two fleets continues to grow, favoring the Lyrans, as they retake some of the advantage they surrendered during the first pass.

The forward shields of the Kzinti quartet drop as they reach 50,000 kms of Hell's Marble. They discover a handful of shuttles just clearing the atmosphere -- coming their way. This occurrence makes Rushwind smile as he completes the plan for his final attack on the Lyrans.

"Drop dummy mines at maximum rate. We may blunt their ESG power if they run over enough of them. Launch scatter packs when we reach the planet, ballistic targeting, earliest possible release. Launch whatever we've got left in the racks."

"Sir, we've only got a couple of explosive drones left, and several ECM drones.

Rushwind curses his oversight silently, knowing his years out of action have taken the edge off his abilities. But he doesn't hesitate in his response, "Go ahead and launch them all. Use the ECM drones to escort the other drones. Then begin reloading all racks. When in range of the planet, activate transporters and beam up as much ordinance as we can. We're going to need the extra drones eventually."

Tab regains consciousness to find himself lying in the corner of the bridge of his crippled Command ship. The vessel is having difficulty staying with the other ships of his fleet even without charging weapons. Half the weapons, and a third of its power are no longer functioning. No one seems overly concerned about his well being. He understands when he hears Slashback's voice giving orders to the fleet.

"They're launching drones! Spread out -- raise remaining ESGs at 20,000. Power tractor beams so we can . . . " There is a pause as if he has just discovered something. "Belay that! Hard left! We're heading into a mine field."

The weapons officer of the Magician snorts at the order, thinking, What am I supposed to fire at if we turn away?

He is surprised when Slashback answers his unspoken query, "Concentrate all fire on planetary defense satellites before we complete our turn."

The White Dwarf and its three companions dash behind the planet as both combatants rearm their weapons. The ships overload the disruptors they have left, anticipating another battle pass with the Lyrans. Rushwind is surprised when the Lyrans fire at the planetary satellites and turn away, managing to stay just beyond his range, and just short of his mine field.

"Damn! He read my mind!" Rushwind curses. "Send to Starfire -- Run! Escape plan 5-A. Contact that Lyran destroyer that's been calling."

"The Destroyer, sir?" asks a stunned Comm-Sergeant.

Rushwind nods.

"Captain Slashback, White Dwarf is hailing us."

"Activate image storage. Lock out changes. Put him on screen," Slashback orders, certain that his hunch is correct.

The communication between the two Captains is seen by all ships in both fleets. It is confirmation that Rushwind does indeed live.

"This is Captain Rushwind-Ffaesarrr of the Kzinti Command Cruiser White Dwarf, of the Ethereal Kzinti fleet. You have violated Kzinti space. Surrender or join us in the realm beyond."

Slashback laughs at the demand. "You'll not bluff me like some others, Captain Rushwind. I am not impressed by your rusty reputation. It is you who will die with your empire." Slashback notices the Starfire and Witchcraft turn away and accelerate and whispers into his navigators ear before resuming his conversation with Rushwind. "Seven on four now. Not exactly three to one odds, but then, this is no ion storm. I will be your doom Rushwind, as I was nearly your doom three years ago. I am Slashback of Rage."

Rushwind realizes now just who this Captain is, and wonders why a competent Captain has not risen to a better command. "I see I should have finished the job back then. But of course, so you should have, also." He then cuts the transmission.

Tab, realizing that his career is over unless he does something, orders his navigator to turn his ship around to re-engage the four remaining Kzinti vessels, and then commands the rest of the Lyran fleet to follow. The Lyran fleet begins turning before his command is received, following the orders Slashback has already issued. Tab misses this totally, and Slashback only chuckles when he receives Tab's belated directive.

Rushwind keeps the Dwarf close to the planet as the scatterpacks blossom and four waves of drones begin moving toward the Lyrans. The drones overtake the shuttle swarm slowly moving away from the planet, and the mass of tiny objects creep toward the Lyran fleet.

"All ships, launch all remaining drones. Let's get as large a wave going as we can, and keep transporting reloads up from the planet."

"Sir, we've got some . . . " an unfamiliar voice responds from the transporter room. "Belay that, sir. Transportation of drones proceeding as ordered," a different voice responds.

Rushwind questions Brushback with his eyes. The Exec responds with a shrug.

Rushwind dismisses the strange communication and outlines his plan for their next battle pass with the Lyrans.

***

As Rushwind had been beaming up from Hell's Marble, the alarm given sends the small populace of the prison planet into action. Though the planet holds no ground based defenses, the communication system sends repeated warnings to the homeworld of the invasion. The timely arrival of Rushwind, and his fleet is nothing short of miraculous to those on Hell's Marble.

As the battle in space begins, ground defenses form as if by magic to do what little they can to repel a Lyran attempt at occupying their world. With no modern technology to speak of, the ground troops are at best nothing more than an act of defiance, armed with clubs and spears.

When the word of the attack goes out, more confusion is added, as groups of felines scatter, searching frantically for friends or family. One of these cats is Laurrrlithe. At home during the day, cooking and tending the feed grain, she dashes directly to the repair workshop that Longclaw had gone to with Firemane earlier in the day. When she arrives, she finds Firemane looking up into the sky, one of the Regent's Enforcers lying in a pool of blood beside him. She looks up to see the familiar form of a shuttle craft rising quickly through the atmosphere. She immediately knows where Longclaw is. Firemane turns when his mother puts her hand on his shoulder. "The Enforcer tried to stop him. He wouldn't let me go. He told me to tell you he loved you, and he is finally at peace. What does that mean?"

"It means he won't be coming back." She pauses and then with a tone of determination says, "Come on 'Mane, we're going to find a way off this rock."

'Lithe heads directly for the main landing facility for the planet. She knows this is where the Regent will be, and it is also the only place with an active transporter station. She is not the only one with these thoughts, however.

When she and Firemane arrive at the base, they find a mob of inmates fighting against a small band of Enforcers. "We cannot get to the base, 'Mane. I'm sorry."

"I know a better way. Father says in combat the primary objective is to get behind your enemy. The sewer system runs under the entire complex and there are outlets all over the place. Look behind the Enforcers. That drainage pipe is right behind them. One soldier with an energy pistol could wipe them all out."

"That's fine and good, but we don't have any energy pistols."

"Yes we do. Father gave this to me right before . . . "

'Lithe embraces her son instantly to hide the weapon, "Put that away before someone sees it!" She then scans the group of rioting prisoners to see if she can find one she trusts.

When her attention is diverted from Firemane, he bolts away, and disappears into a narrow sewage drain pipe before she can catch him. "No, 'Mane. Come back." She cannot fit through the small opening and returns to her vantage point, watching the continued battle between the Enforcers and the inmates. It is a lop-sided affair as the Enforcers have little trouble in cutting the inmates to ribbons.

Only a few moments pass before she sees Firemane's bright fur appear at the sewer outlet behind the Enforcers. She holds her breath as she watches him 'practice' killing the line of Enforcers once before activating the gun. The inmates are just mounting another assault when the unmistakeable sound of a wide-beam disruptor rings out.

A dozen Enforcers go down, while only two remain standing. These two have no idea where the pulse came from, and before they can locate the source, Firemane cuts them both in half with the narrow beam setting on the pistol.

The inmates descend on the prone forms of the Enforcers like buzzards, quickly relieving them of their weapons. Firemane crawls out of the storm drain to the delight of the rebels, while Laurrrlithe runs to him to make sure he is unscathed.

"Quickly, you must come with us before they send more Enforcers."

'Lithe and Firemane follow the newly armed soldiers into the base. 'Lithe then notices Firemane is upset.

"What's wrong, 'Mane?"

"I didn't mean to. It's just that it takes too long for the wide-beam stun to recharge. I thought I put it on heat setting. I only meant to burn them. But I didn't have time to check. They just . . . "

'Lithe feels the pain in her sons words, but knows they do not have time now to stop and discuss the matter. "You did what you had to do. Your father would have been proud of you."

Firemane brightens slightly at these words as they continue behind the rebel squad. The facility is strangely empty. Though they do not know where the other Enforcers are, they are all happy about their good fortune. They make their way quickly to the transporter station. When the doors to the transporter station open, they immediately know where the other Enforcers are.

"Down," the rebel leader yells, firing his phaser, set on stun, wide dispersal. The whine reverberates eerily and most of the enemy soldiers are knocked unconscious. Four of the Enforcers are still mobile, though two move erratically.

The rebel leader is cut in half by a disruptor blast, but two rebels take his place, making short work of dispatching the remaining guards.

"Tie them up," the new leader commands, moving to the transporter controls. "And move those damned drones off the platform. If they were preparing drones for transport, we'll be hearing from someone soon. When we do, we'll beam up and commandeer whoever picks us up."

"You don't seriously believe you can just transport up and take over a starship, do you?" 'Lithe asks the jet black rebel.

"You've got a better idea?"

'Lithe frowns, realizing they have few options. "They won't hesitate to kill any prisoners beaming up. But if you're wearing the uniform of an Enforcer, they might pause long enough for you to get away with it."

"The lady's got a point, Moody," one of the rebels says.

"Good idea. Everyone, grab an Enforcer uniform. Quickly!"

"And they will definitely hesitate if you have a young cub," 'Lithe says.

"But mother . . . "

"Hush!"

"Again, we'll do it your way. But they'll also know their aren't any female Enforcers here," the leader says, climbing into an Enforcer jumpsuit, "You'll have to stay."

"I understand."

***

Longclaw guides his shuttlecraft up through the atmosphere of the planet, out into the vacuum of space. The controls feel comfortably familiar, despite the years since he last piloted a shuttle. He activates his small viewscreen and sees the White Dwarf leading the Kzinti contingent around Hell's Marble, while the Lyrans chase. He wonders if Rushwind is still Captain of the Command ship. He tunes in the Kzinti battle-channel on the shuttle's tiny comm-system, but lacks a descrambler to decipher the gibberish of signals being sent. "Launch drones," he says aloud, wishing he were on the bridge with his old friend. He is delighted to see the drones appear magically only moments later. He curses with Rushwind when the Lyrans turn away, avoiding the Kzinti mine field, while destroying the satellite defenses of the planet. He alters course to chase the Lyran fleet.

His shuttle closes to within 10,000 kilometers of the White Dwarf as the ship swings around his world, when suddenly the gibberish on his comm-system clears, and he witnesses the conversation between Rushwind and Slashback. Longclaw smiles, knowing with Rushwind in charge of the fleet, 'Lithe and Firemane may yet have a chance to survive. He follows the drones and Kzinti warships toward the Lyran fleet as Rushwind begins his attack.

***

As the two fleets line up on each other again, the Lyran formation begins to spread out. The number of drones heading toward them makes ESG use mandatory, though the power costs severely curtail their speed. A fresh destroyer, Growler takes the point, with the CC on its left wing. The Rage is forced to the rear of the formation by the turn the echelon makes and the power deficiency Slashback's ship now suffers.

The Kzinti force weaves back and forth as if intoxicated, to remain behind the drone swarm bearing down on their enemies. The formation catches up to the wave as they reach 150,000 kilometers to the Lyran point ship.

The two Kzinti frigates begin jerking erratically, causing enormous stress on the internal gravity stabalizers as they accellerate to their maximum speed. Both vessels cut across the path of the point ship and slip toward the enemy CC with its inviting down forward shield. The pair of aggressors close to 80,000 kilometers and continue in, managing to present different shield to the spread out Lyran lead ships. The Magician turns slightly to veer away from the pests just as ESGs are energized on the DD Anger to its right and the CL Pouncer to its left.

"They are cowards! They send their smallest ships ahead to save themselves. Carve both of them up when they're inside 40,000," Tab orders.

When the frigates reach 40,000 kilometers from the lead Lyran units, each receives a gift of five disruptor bolts. Frigate #43 receives the worst of it, as four bolts hit and eat into the hull, chewing up system after system on the tiny craft until it slows to a crawl, and turns away from the fray. The other harasser is hit with only one -- shrugging off the blow, and turning in toward the Lyran fleet, while returning to a straight and level flight. ESGs form at 10,000 kilometers, bright glowing spheres of energy encircling the lead warships and sandwiching the CC comfortably.

Before firing, the tiny frigate #51 surprises the Lyran fleet by attaching a tractor beam to the enemy Command ship. With its reserve power destroyed, the Magician cannot shake the grasp of the smaller ship. Tab realizes with the small ship's mass pushing the Magician sideways, he is in danger of getting hit with his own fleet's ESGs. Two drones also leap from the Kzinti frigate. Tab, so wrapped up in trying to save face by killing Rushwind, has underestimated his enemy severely.

"Tell them to cut their ESGs off or they'll hit us!" Tab screams.

The CL deactivates its ESGs immediately, as the front line combines phaser fire on the helpless frigate, doing everything short of blowing it up. Having placed itself in the middle of the Lyran fleet, the enemy fire comes through three different shields, which is all that prevents the combined arsenal from blowing the tiny ship to bits. Frigate #51 fires its modest complement of phasers and tears away most of the Magician's #2 shield in the same instant. The Lyran Command ship is released from the destroyed Kzinti tractor beam, but is struck instantly by the pair of Kzinti drones, Tab having forgotten to fire at them in the confusion. The explosive warheads gut the already crippled CC as it slips even closer to the tiny enemy vessel causing so much trouble.

Before Tab can countermand the order, one of the other Lyran vessels finishes the enemy hulk. The frigate's explosion damages the Magician one last time, fighting even beyond death to rob the enemy CC of its last power, which brings the ravaged command ship to a halt.

While frigate #51 and those on board are giving their lives for the empire, the White Dwarf and Black Hole both accelerate, which is almost unnoticed. With the majority of the Lyran fleet's medium range firepower gone, Rushwind and his cohort close to 40,000 kilometers of the lead Lyran destroyer, Anger, where they unleash enough firepower to crack its forward shield and do considerable internal damage, before turning away.

The Dwarf and Black Hole then vector to catch up to the damaged frigate. Rushwind attaches a tractor to the vessel and drags it with him, desperately trying to tow frigate #43 to safety. A cursory scan of the frigate reveals its warp drive is a third of what it once was.

"Launch drones at maximum rate. Contact the frigate and tell them to prepare to abandon ship. We'll try to transport as many as we can before we make the transition to cruise warp."

The six remaining Lyran ships pursue, but lose ground slowly as they are forced to take out another drone swarm first. The trio of Kzinti ships is 100,000 kilometers away when the Lyrans finally clear the wave of projectiles and accelerate, though they are forced to lose ground again as they skirt another small drone wave.

Rushwind drops the last of his mines, and launches the last drones out of his racks as he tries to get enough distance from the Lyran fleet to lose them. The Lyrans are obliging enough to run into the mine, which results in another slight gain in distance as the Lyrans continue to alter their course to avoid any other such surprises, but not enough to prevent massed disruptor fire through the down rear shield of the tiny ship. The frigate, already damaged, cannot withstand the onslaught, blowing up and taking many Kzinti warriors with it.

"We are clear of the system, sir. Full warp avail . . . "

"Go. Warp six," Rushwind says, knowing anyone left on Hell's Marble is doomed.

When White Dwarf and the remainder of Rushwind's task force withdraw, the Rage hurries to rejoin the other ships of her squadron. Once the Lyrans regroup, they assess their damage and the outlook for their mission. The decision is made to return to the Magician and retrieve whatever crew and supplies remain, before scuttling the hull. They return, but find only floating debris.

***

When the last battle pass begins, Longclaw watches Rushwind's plan unfold from his slow moving shuttle. He sees the frigate give its life to disable the Lyran Command ship. As the Lyrans chase the White Dwarf, Black Hole and injured frigate beyond his sensor range, he prays that his family is safe and the Lyrans will not return. He then realizes that his shuttle and the gutted Lyran Command ship are only 70,000 kilometers apart. No power emanates from the Magician, and no shields are up.

'Claw fires his lone phaser at the helpless Command ship, hitting the derelict and putting another nail in its coffin. The shuttle's limited sensors detect a reactor coming on line for the wreck, which Longclaw immediately destroys as his shuttle fires and hits again at 5,000 kilometers. Cutting off his engines, Longclaw's shuttle stops only 100 meters from the Command ship. Knowing the consequences, he carefully targets the area of the Lyran ship most likely to contain the anti-matter exchangers.

"May the Fates be with you 'Lithe and 'Mane," he says aloud and fires, exchanging his life for over one hundred Lyrans', as the Command ship explodes into a small sun, erasing the shuttlecraft from existence with it.

***

"Captain Rushwind, Security reports a problem with the transporters."

"What's up, Brushback?"

"I'm not sure, sir. There seems to be a lot of confusion on the lower decks."

"You take the conn. Plot course to rendezvous with the Starfire and Witchcraft. I'll go see what's going on below."

Rushwind enters the mover quickly. When the doors close behind him, he tries to rub the growing headache from his temples. How could I have beaten them? There must have been a way. They didn't buy the 'Ethereal Fleet' bit at all. Was it just Slashback, or something else?

The mover doors open and Rushwind is surprised to find a familiar, though unexpected, cat wearing an Enforcer uniform pointing a disruptor pistol directly at him, with several other strange cats lining the walls behind him, also armed.

The one with the gun is almost as surprised when he recognizes Rushwind.

"Moody?"

"Rushwind?"

"Would you mind explaining to me what in hells you're doing on my ship and why you've got a disruptor pointed at me?"

The black cat lowers the pistol and motions for the others behind to do likewise. "The Fates are having fun with the both of us, I believe," the black feline answers almost jovially. "My friends and I commandeered the transporter station on Hell's Marble and transported up when you came back to retrieve the reload drones. Your transporter technicians were understandably surprised to see us."

"No doubt," Rushwind says cooly.

"If it were anyone but you, I'd have taken you hostage. It was our plan to take over your ship and escape the reach of the Empire. But I know you too well, Rushwind. You'd find some way to keep control of your ship if you had to come back from the dead to do it. I place myself at your mercy."

Rushwind's ears flick in amusement. "I appreciate the compliment, I think. And I suppose I could throw you all in the brig. How many of you are there, anyway?"

"Eighteen."

"I suppose throwing you in jail would be akin to sending you home. How many of you have technical experience?"

"Most of us served on the Hurricane, until the Vearthiscle Incident. We'd be glad to . . . "

"The Hurricane? Of course. Lotherion IV was where they exiled all of you. Is Longclaw here?" Rushwind asks, hopefully.

"No," Moody replies solemnly. "From what I understand, he stole a shuttle in the confusion and went to join the battle."

Rushwind nods somberly. "Yes, that sounds like him. I fear he is dead now. We had not expected the Lyrans to strike so quickly. If they lingered at Lotherion IV long after we left, they almost certainly have destroyed any remaining shuttles, and most likely have blasted the planet from orbit."

"Why would they destroy a settlement they could easily take intact?"

"They weren't after, what is it you call it, Hell's Marble? Their objective is three bases much deeper in our territory. It would not do for them to leave a functioning base behind them when they press the attack. Even with the limited communication capabilities of a planet like Hell's Marble, it could be a valuable asset for intelligence gathering if left intact. No doubt, should their attack succeed, they will rebuild the facilities necessary to mine its ores, but that is not my concern."

"What is your concern, then?"

Rushwind pauses, realizing he's giving top secret information to a 'convited' criminal. But he also knows how unjust the verdicts were -- and how close he came to being the one The Fates chose against rather than Longclaw. In an instant he mentally adds the refugees from the penal colony to his crew and speaks to them as such. "We're going to rendezvous with the rest of my fleet, and then we'll fall back to protect our bases. My Exec is contacting Central Command as we speak to determine where we will be most needed. And of course, the Lyran fleet we left behind will create more problems."

"It was hard to tell much of what happened from down here. What exactly were you fighting, and how much did you leave?"

"It was a nine ship Lyran task force. Six were still functional when we retreated. Unfortunately, only four of my ships survived combat -- a CL, and two Strike Cruisers in addition to the Dwarf."

"Not good."

"I know. And I was planning on having reload drones in place before engaging the enemy again," the Captain fairly growls. "You've caused a bit of a problem with your untimely appearance."

"Let us work off the debt, Captain. We've all got starship experience. We can help with damage control."

"The offer is appreciated, Moody, but you may not be up to speed on some of the technology upgrades in the last few years. I think . . . "

Rushwind is interrupted as his wrist-com comes to life. "Captain, Starfire and Witchcraft are waiting for us at Jartuio II. There is a small mining facility there, and they are loading replacement drones from the stores on the planet."

"Good work. We need to stay with the Black Hole, but if we can get any more speed out of these rust buckets, do so."

"Understood. We've also gotten some garbled transmissions from Central Command, sir. There's a lot of interference, but what we've gotten seems to indicate there's a main battle going on in and around the Deiuverr system, and it's moving this way."

"Good work. Do your best to pinpoint where the main battle is, and after we reload we'll go pull their fat out of the fire. Rushwind out."

Moody salutes Rushwind, saying, "Sounds like you've got your claws full. You know, we've got two warp system technicians in our bunch. Even if we aren't up to snuff on the high-tech, we can help with repairs to the structural integrity of your ship, Captain. We both know you don't normally have enough damage control parties to deal with every hull breach in all of the outer hull. Well, now you do."

Rushwind hesitates, knowing the crime he is about to commit is punishable by death. "Okay. Report to damage control. Tell Lieutenant Prowler you're Enforcers from Lotherion IV, and I ordered you to report to damage control. He'll give you your tools and orders. But when we get to Jartuio, you all get off. I can't have a horde of criminals loose on my ship when I enter combat, whether I once served with them or not."

"I understand. Umm, you won't tell anyone where you left us, will you?"

"I won't if you won't."

"It's a deal, Captain." Moody turns and speaks to his troops. "Okay, everyone. We're going down to damage control central and see if we can help our kind host. Wiremane, you know the way."

As the group of cats begins moving away, Rushwind notices a very short, bright red cat among them. "Moody, was that a kitten in amongst your troops?"

"Oh, Firemane. Yes. He's Longclaw's son."

"Longclaw has a son?"

"Yes. I'm afraid we had to leave the cub's mother behind."

"The Lyrans . . . "

"Yes. The kit almost certainly lost both of his parents in one day."

Rushwind shakes his head sadly. "Take care of him, Moody."

"I'll try, Rushwind. Of course, if I had access to a computer, I could forge some identicards for my comrades and we could disappear quietly. No evidence. No questions."

"You always were a pest, weren't you?"

Moody's ears flick in amusement.

"But I'm afraid it would be much to large a breach in protocol to give you access to the computers," Rushwind answers shaking his head. "Say, do you remember the name of the waitress at the Panther Club on K'tzellia?"

"Yeah. So?"

"No reason. You know, of course, that your work party may come across some computer links while you're conducting your repairs. I don't want to hear that you've been tampering with them. And we have security programs in place to notify the system controller if someone gives an invalid password."

"Yeah, of course," Moody responds, confused by Rushwind's ramblings. He notes the gleam in Rushwind's eyes and smiles. "I understand completely Captain."

"Good. Now go catch up with your group."

"Yes, sir."

Rushwind returns quickly to the bridge to find that the Black Hole was nearly taken over by a group of escaped prisoners from Lotherion IV. As Rushwind listens to the details of what has transpired while he was away, he bows his head, closes his eyes and massages his right temple to wipe away his growing headache. Things have not gone well so far, and there is more fighting yet to do. May The Fates be kinder to us the next time around.

As Brushback concludes his report, Rushwind's head pops up and an evil grin forms on his face. "They weren't phased by our 'Ethereal Fleet' bit before, number one. But I've got an idea."

***

"I never realized starships were so big," Firemane mumbles as he follows the group of technicians to the outer starboard pylon to assist with repairs.

"This is the flagship of the fleet, kit. White Dwarf has been the pride of the fleet for some time. She's the largest, most heavily armed warship we've got. Of course there are other Command Cruisers, but none of the others has Rushwind as Captain."

"Was that Captain Rushwind you were speaking with, Moody?"

"Yes. Your father and I served with him a long, long time ago. He's the best tactician the fleet has ever known. Your father was the only one to ever come close to him in simulator duels."

"Yes, father told me a lot about him. But he never told me these ships were so big."

"Big enough, Firemane. Anyway, we're here. You assist VioletEyes over there. He's a fantastic engineer, and he sorely loves to talk while he's working. You may learn something."

Firemane complies, handing VioletEyes the tools he needs and is fascinated by the old cat's monologue. With the excitement of the past few hours beginning to wane, for the first time Firemane has the time to think about the events that have transpired.

"My mother and father are dead, aren't they?" Firemane asks aloud, though he is really asking himself.

VioletEyes pauses in his work to answer the young cub. "Quite likely, cub. But do not despair for them. They are free from a life that was not a life. I understand Longclaw took a shuttle and went to join battle with the Lyrans."

"Yes. He wouldn't let me go," Firemane responds listlessly, turning a magneto-sealer over and over in his claws.

"I knew Longclaw for some time, and I can tell you with certainty, that the Fates answered his prayers today. He was born a warrior and if he did indeed end this life today -- he ended the way he always wished. And your mother did what all mothers do -- she protected her cub. Today, whether they lived or died, both fulfilled their destiny, and you cannot ask more from a lifetime than that."

"I suppose you're right, but . . . what is my destiny?"

VioletEyes looks the small, red kit up and down, sizing up the young cub that he has only known in passing until today. "Well, you're small for your age, so I doubt you'll ever make a great warrior like your father, but Engineering takes sharp claws and a sharp mind."

Firemane glares at the old cat when he implies he will never be able to live up to his father's ability. "Are you saying no Engineer has ever risen to command?"

VioletEyes purrs merrily, "Ah, there you have me kit. For there is one case of a cadet going through the Institute in the Engineering curriculum and advancing to Captaincy. But that was a very unusual case."

"Why?"

"Why? Well, because no one had ever tried it."

"How come?"

"The Explorer Service goes back thousands of years, kit. At some point it became tradition that to be a ship Captain, you had to advance through the Science Department. Before we ran into the Lyrans it made sense. Any explorer needs to be prepared to deal with the unknown more than anything else. When the ancient wars started, before warp drive was invented, no one even considered changing the command structure. Of course, we beefed up the weaponry and added the warp drive when it was developed, but most things stayed the same."

"But why? It seems so obvious that a combat fleet would work differently than an exploration fleet."

VioletEyes marvels at his bright companion. "To you it seems obvious. But after enough time goes by, sometimes tradition will lock things into place so hard it takes a Marnitel Firestorm to knock them loose."

Firemane ponders this for a moment and looks VioletEyes straight in the eyes and says, "If it can be done once, it can be repeated. Maybe I'll do it."

VioletEyes purrs again at the boast, "I wouldn't count on it, kit. The one cadet who managed to pull off that feat is the one you just saw a few minutes ago. Rushwind."

While VioletEyes is still purring, Moody returns, and hands each of them an octagonal disk. "Here are your identicards."

VioletEyes examines the disk in disbelief. "But how . . . "

"You don't want to know, trust me."

Firemane is surprised when VioletEyes shivers at Moody's words and responds, "That's okay. I don't think I want to know." Noticing Firemane's curious expression Moody winks at the young cat and says, "It's an inside joke, kit."

***

The White Dwarf and Black Hole rendezvous with the Starfire and Witchcraft at Jartuio II and quickly deposit the 'refugees' from Hell's Marble on the small outpost.

On the bridge, Rushwind examines the detailed damage reports from his remaining four ships. "This isn't too bad, Brushback, but we won't be able to handle an extended engagement. We're all but out of mines, and on average are only half loaded with drones."

"It was the best we could do. The outpost didn't have many mines, and the explosives used for mining won't do for our needs."

"Do we have reliable coordinates for the main battle, yet?"

"I'm not sure how reliable, sir. But we calculate an eighty percent chance they're two sectors away from starbase seven."

Rushwind curses under his breath at this news, hoping they will be in time to prevent the destruction of one of their major strategic bases. "Are the Enforcers all on the planet, yet?"

"Yes, sir. Last bunch transported down by shuttle and the shuttle should be aboard in three minutes with the last of the extra ordnance."

"Very well," Rushwind nods.

"Umm, sir. Do you think it is wise to leave the . . . er . . . refugees unguarded on the outpost?"

"I know you have misgivings, but we cannot afford to leave anyone with them and we can definitely not risk keeping them on board. After everything is over, I'll take care of informing Command Central of their whereabouts and have them returned to Hell's Marble."

"Hell's what, sir?"

"Lotherion IV," Rushwind snaps irritably. "We have more important matters to concern ourselves with at the moment. Is the special effects package done?"

"Yes, sir," Brushback says, his ears flicking mirthfully. "I think this just may do the trick."

"Let's hope so, Commander. Let's hope so," Rushwind says grimly.

"Sir," the communications officer interrupts, "the last shuttle is back on board."

"Excellent. I believe you already have the course, helmsman. All ships proceed to main battle front at top speed."

The four ships race toward starbase seven, hoping to find it and their fleet still intact.

***

The Lyran Commodore aboard the CC Sorcerer, operates the weapons console with his left paw, his right paw swathed in bandages painted red by his blood. His ship is in bad shape, and only seven of the eleven warships he started with still exist. But the Kzinti losses have been equally deep.

So close to the starbase, but we couldn't push through. Where are those reinforcements, he wonders as he fires again at the Kzinti ships in range. He winces in pain as the Sorcerer rocks from the return fire, jarring his broken right paw.

"Keep moving toward their right flank, helmsman. When our reinforcements come to cement victory for us that's where they'll be."

"Commodore, detecting four ships racing toward us from behind," the acting sensor operator shouts in triumph.

"Only four? Turn toward . . . "

"Oh gods!" the sensor operator gasps. "They're Kzinti ships, and they're hailing us."

"On screen," the Commodore mutters, silently cursing this new stroke of bad fortune.

"Activate special effects, Brushback."

The Exec complies quickly, as both flick their ears in mirth at how they are about to try and confuse the Lyrans.

"Ready, sir," he says as the ship reaches standard communications range.

As the Lyran Commodore curses his luck, the forward viewer of the Sorcerer comes to life. The head of a much too familiar Kzinti fills the screen and brings silence to the cats on the Lyran bridge. The picture is clear and distinct, but for some reason the Lyran Fleet Commander can see through the form of the cat as if he is not totally solid.

"This is Captain Rushwind-Ffaesarrr of the Ethereal Kzinti Battle Force ordering you to surrender your vessel or meet us in the next plane!" The voice seems to come from everywhere, though it carries a deep, foreboding tone with it. The Commodore is experienced enough to recognize it as the voice of Rushwind -- a Kzinti Captain he knows has been dead for years.

The Commodore gasps at the revelation, and sits stunned, refusing to believe what his eyes are showing him. The image on the screen changes to show four Kzinti vessels closing, though it seems they are also not totally solid. The Commodore's acting First Officer has to physically shake him to bring him out of his stupor. As he tries to collect his thoughts, the Kzinti quartet closes in and fires disruptors at his already tired vessel. The jar of energy against the hull of his ship brings him back fully to combat readiness, but it is too late. He realizes now that his hesitation has cost them dearly.

"Full retreat!" he commands. Escape plan Alpha Alpha Omega. Get us out of here, helmsman. Activate ESG. I don't want to get hit by any drones on the way out."

The Lyran fleet turns and runs for home -- two frigates being destroyed in the confusion, including one from friendly ESG damage. The rout is not a complete one, as the contingent of Lyran ships Rushwind delayed at Lotherion IV arrive in time to help cover the escape of the remains of the Lyrans' central attacking force. When the Kzinti ships are nearly out of drones they slow and allow the Lyrans to regroup and escape Kzinti space with a reasonable percentage of their fleet still intact.

***

"It worked Captain!" Brushback roars as the other crew members on the bridge also give victory roars.

Rushwind leans back in his command seat, gazing at the view screen filled now with only distant stars. He feels tired, old, drained. But at what cost? Rushwind wonders. Is there a way to end this once and for all?

"We've stopped their offensive, Brushback, but we have an opportunity to inflict a deveastating blow. What is the nearest facility we can get to to reload with ordnance and then pursue?" The Captain asks.

Before Brushback can respond, the Comm-sergeant interrupts. "Communication from Command Central."

"On screen."

The face of Admiral Goldpaw appears, a definite look of joy in his eyes, though Rushwind notes a grave undertone in his voice when the Admiral speaks. "Congratulations, Captain. The Lyrans have been turned away on all fronts."

The crew on the bridge cheer wildly.

The Admiral pauses for their shouts to die down and then continues. "However, we have suffered grave losses in multiple sectors. Lyran casualties were at least as severe as ours, probably greater. But with our forces depleted, we cannot risk a counter-attack now."

"Admiral," Rushwind almost pleads. "We have an opportunity here that won't last long. If we . . . "

"I know where you're headed, Captain," the Admiral cuts in. "But we know the Klingons are currently in the middle of an offensive buildup. If we were to counter-attack now, we'd be leaving ourselves far too exposed to a Klingon incursion that we'd have no hope of stopping. You've done your job well. Now it's time to come home."

Rushwind's tail droops, knowing the Admiral is correct. And knowing that he has not fought his last battle against the Lyrans. "We're on our way, sir. Rushwind out."

***