False Colors

EPILOGUE

Starboard Flight Deck, KIS Mjollnir

Orbiting Landreich, Landreich System

1725 hours (TST), 2671.056

The Presidential shuttle San Jacinto lay on the flight deck, side door open and ramp deployed, ready to leave the ship. Bondarevsky watched Kruger standing at the top, and recalled a similar scene the day he had come to Independence to see them off at the very start of the Goliath Project. But there were many differences, too. Mjollnir’s flight deck betrayed its alien origins in the shapes, the structures, the shadows formed by a design and construction no human hand had been involved with, and all the refitting and adaptation in the galaxy would never change that basic nonhuman flavor. The strange shapes of two Strakhas and a Paktahn bomber loomed behind the shuttle, more reminders of Mjollnir’s unique origin.

And there was the battle damage. Mjollnir had limped home from Baka Kar almost as battered as she had been when they first found her at Vaku. Shield failures had been regular all the way home, and Donald Graham had pronounced the jump drives dead on arrival after the final transition through the hyperrealm from Hellhole to Landreich. The port side flight deck was shut down after the explosion of one of the Vaktoths during recovery operations. Four decks of the superstructure were open to space thanks to laser hits during the battle with the Vorghath, and as many as five hundred crewmen had died.

Baka Kar had been a victory, but a costly one, and they had all the refit work to do over again before Mjollnir could space again. There were some battle scars here in the starboard flight deck, too, to remind Kruger and the assembled officers and crew of what the carrier had given, and what she might be called upon to give again.

Even the vast expanse of the flight deck couldn’t hold all of the carriers crew, but every department was represented by blocks of officers and enlisted men, drawn up neatly in ranks to greet the Presidential shuttle. They were cheering wildly, greeting the man who had saved them when everything had seemed the darkest. And Kruger accepted their accolades, standing, smiling, basking in the glory his last great charge into battle had earned him.

Bondarevsky stood in front of a group of pilots, sadly thinned out after the day of battle at Baka Kar. But Doomsday was there, and Aengus Harper. Alexandra Travis, too, back on duty after being discharged from Sick Bay with her wounds mostly healed.

Others were there in spirit, though no longer in body-Darlene Babcock, Charles Robertson, Drifter Conway, even Viking Jensson, along with far too many others. Bondarevsky had ordered plaques with the names of each squadron’s dead posted in their respective ready rooms, to keep alive the memories of the heroes who had served Mjollnir well.

He glanced around the flight deck, taking note of the others who were waiting to hear Kruger speak. Donald Scott Graham, with Prince Murragh beside him, living proof that man and kil could work together for the common good. Bhaktadil with his marines, his turban and his oversized kukri knife strange against the blue and gray of his full-dress uniform. Deniken, promoted to full Commander for his expertise in handling the carrier’s gunnery in the fight with the dreadnought, stood between the irrepressible Lieutenant Clancy and the darkly handsome Communications Officer, Vivaldi, with Kittani close by looking more like an assassin than an Executive Officer. And so many others, who had started out as strangers but become shipmates united by shared danger and the brotherhood of a successful fight against seemingly hopeless odds.

And before them all, Admiral Geoff Tolwyn. The man looked ten years younger than he had when they had met at Moonbase Tycho. Somewhere in the midst of that desperate fight at Baka Kar the tough old admiral had found himself again. Two nights earlier, he and Bondarevsky had gone out drinking together in a Newburg nightclub, and Tolwyn had revealed that he was resigning his commission with the Landreich to return to Earth to accept a posting as commander of the Strategic Readiness Agency.

“You see, my coming out here wasn’t just a whim,” he announced, “there was something else afoot. Call this a bit of a fact finding mission, an upfront look. With the SRA I now have the data I need to block what others are planning to do.”

So Landreich would be losing Tolwyn’s services. He had tried to talk Bondarevsky into joining him on his crusade, but Mjollnir’s Wing Commander had declined the offer. Bondarevsky had found a home here, a group of people he could work with, a cause worth fighting for, a ship he was starting to think of as his new home. He gave Alexandra Travis a sidelong glance. Perhaps even a woman he could love…

He wondered what Vance Richards would say, if he had lived to see Bondarevsky become a convert to the Landreich. Perhaps in some Valhalla the old admiral was looking down at Mjollnir today, proud of what he’d helped to set in motion. Proud of what he’d died supporting.

Kruger raised both hands, signaling for silence, and the cheering died away gradually. A throat mike and amplifier projected his words so every man, woman, and kil on the flight deck could hear him plainly. No doubt most of the rest of the crew was watching him on video monitors throughout the ship.

“When I decided to try to find and refit this heap of spare parts, people said I was crazy,” Kruger began. “And maybe I was, at that. But you people set out to work miracles, and miracles happened! The first miracle was when you got this old girl up and running again. The second miracle was when you took on the Vorghath.” He paused. “The press on Landreich is calling Mjollnir ‘the ship that refused to die,’ and I for one think that’s as fine a title as any fighting ship can bear. Maybe it’s true what spacers say, that each ship has a life of its own. Something kept the self-destruct system from blowing this proud warrior up after the battle of Vaku over a year ago. Something preserved her from harm until you arrived to put her in order once again. And something helped you hold together despite everything the enemy could throw at you!”

Kruger still had the touch, Bondarevsky thought. Rough-hewn, gruff, impatient, he could still hold a crowd of spacers in his hand, and lead them on a jump to hell and back at his slightest word. Murragh, the Kilrathi prince, had the same natural, easy authority, but Max Kruger was still the best there was.

The fleet had arrived to find the news of their victory had preceded them, thanks to hypercasts sent out as they waited in the Hellhole system for a week to see if Ragark was going to try to reopen the conflict. By the time they’d made orbit the Council of Delegates had met to withdraw their censure of the President and strike down the short-lived government formed by Councilman Galbraith after the no-confidence vote that had stripped Kruger of his office. Daniel Webster Galbraith had made a public apology to Kruger and personally turned over the gavel so that the President could once again formally convene the Council.

Up on top of the shuttle’s ramp, Kruger was still speaking. “Now there’s a new threat to this ship that refuses to die, but I have no doubt that you’ll weather it the same as you’ve done all the others.” He produced a paper from his pocket. “I received this yesterday, faxed from the Terran Confederation Embassy Compound. It was sent by the Confederation Peace Commissioner, Williams…an ultimatum, if you please. The Landreich government is advised that it has ‘flagrantly and deliberately violated the terms of the Treaty of Ko-Bar Yagar.’ We are directed to immediately arrest and turn over to the Commissioner President Maximilian Kruger. So it looks like I’m on the wanted list again!”

There was laughter, but Bondarevsky didn’t share in it. He’d found it hard to believe Admiral Tolwyn’s tales of conspiracies and the like, but here was evidence that some within the Confederation-not satisfied with forcing the Landreich into a desperate showdown they had only barely managed to win-now intended to hold innocent Kruger responsible for their own wrong policies.

Kruger held up the paper again, waving it. “More than that, though, the confees have demanded that we retire this brave old lady for service, along with the rest of our carriers, and turn over peace-keeping duties to squadrons of ConFleet who will police our borders for us to provide a buffer between our ‘irresponsible exercise of military adventurism’ and the forces of the Kilrathi Empire. What do you think of that?”

Catcalls and hoots answered, and Kruger grinned broadly. “That’s about what my reaction was, friends. Out here on the frontier we learned a long time ago that the confees never have and never will follow through on any pledge to protect our borders. We’ve had to do it ourselves…you have had to do it, taking this carrier into battle and defeating our enemies with your bravery, your skill, and your ship that refused to die!” He paused again, surveying the crew. “So I say to you, as I have already said to the confees: this carrier, and all the carriers of the Free Republic Navy, shall remain on duty to guard our borders for as long as they need to be guarded. All of our borders, and against whoever might threaten them. The Landreich is a sovereign nation, and we protect our own!”

With that he turned and entered the shuttle, and the ramp closed behind him to a wave of cheers louder and more sustained than before.

Bondarevsky didn’t cheer. He knew all too well what this open break with the Terran Confederation could mean. If the Peace Commission was determined to make an issue out of the matter, it could mean a new war, a war of human against human, with Ragark still waiting beyond the frontier to take advantage of any opening.

But much as he hated the prospect, much as he hoped sanity might prevail so that such a conflict could be averted, Jason Bondarevsky was ready to serve his new people as doggedly as he had ever served the old.

The Landreich’s enemies might remain poised to strike the Republic down, but they would find Mjollnir, and the Black Cats, and Jason Bondarevsky, all waiting to defend her.

Until the crisis was over, Cincinnatus would not return to the plow.

Jason turned to walk away.

“Jason?”

“Hell of a thanks,” Jason growled, shaking his head.

Geoff smiled.

“I take it you’re staying here.”

“Yes sir, this is home now. And you, sir?”

“I’m going back like I said.”

“Why?”

“That’s where the fight is now.”

“Won’t you get arrested?”

“Hell, I resigned my commission and was following orders out here. They can’t hold me on that.”

“I’m curious though, what exactly is this Strategic Readiness Agency?”

Tolwyn smiled.

“A bit of what we talked about before. Did you ever really wonder why I was out here?”

“Yes, sir, frankly I did and still do.”

“First-hand look at the situation and also to get out of the way for awhile while certain things clicked into place. Now they’re in place.”

“I don’t get it, sir. Go back to get kicked in the teeth for all you’ve done?”

Geoff shook his head and chuckled softly. The sound of the laugh was cold and Jason looked at him curiously.

“Ever peel an onion?”

Jason shook his head at the curious question.

“Layer after layer after layer. Jason, what happened here was just a layer of the game. I’ve been in the service over thirty years. I was there at the very beginning of the war. And I can tell you that what some people thought was the end at Kilrah was just one act in the drama.”

“Well, I sure wished it had been the ending.”

“No you don’t,” and the way he said it caught Jason by surprise. “Who is the enemy? Kilrah? Or is there something else?”

“Sir?”

Again Geoff smiled. “Never mind Jason, never mind. But as to the layers of onions. What happened here was but the game within the game. I realized that long ago, a game within a game within a game,” and his voice drifted off for a moment.

“Jason, there are other plans to face the layers. I saw this coming years ago, that what thought might be the ending was but a prelude to something vaster and darker. I’ve made my preparations and now I must return to see them through.”

There was something in Geoff’s tone that was troubling but he couldn’t quite figure what it was. As he looked into the Admiral’s eyes he saw an almost detached look, a gaze he had seen before in the eyes of pilots who had flown one mission too many, or an assault marine who had jumped once too often.

“I’d like you with me, Jason. You might have to lose a bit of that boyish idealism that I thought years of combat would have washed away. But I think you have the stuff for it. It’ll be tough, you’ll need stomach and the willingness to fight a shadow enemy, the thing behind the mask.”

Jason was silent and suddenly not sure.

Geoff rested his hand on Jason’s shoulder and again, for the briefest instant there was the old look again, reminding him so much of the Admiral who had risked all to save his life after the raid on Kilrah, or in that moment of victory in the defense of Earth when all believed that Geoff Tolwyn would be remembered as the greatest hero of the Kilrathi War.

Geoff looked into his eyes and there ever so slowly shook his head.

“Maybe not,” he whispered, “maybe not, Jason. Stay here.”

“Yes, sir, I think they need me.”

“They do. Jason, there might come a day when you might question what I am doing,” and for a moment Jason thought that something inside of the Admiral was breaking and then the hard distant look returned.

“Jason, just remember what I was and what I believed in-perhaps then you can help others to understand. Take care, son, and good hunting.”

Jason drew back and as Geoff started to turn away he came to attention and saluted. Geoff smiled, his visage sad and filled with an infinite weariness.

“Take care, Admiral, take care,” Jason whispered, suddenly filled with the knowledge that never again would he see the Admiral Tolwyn he had so loyally served.

Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn nodded, and turning disappeared into the crowd.