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acceleration, it would take three more minutes to overtake Vaquero and Hobbes.
The Latino pilot had managed to engage Ralgha and keep him busy, but it was an
uneven match. Hobbes had always been a good pilot, but Blair had never
expected to see him matched against one of his own comrades.
On his sensor screen, he saw Hobbes making a long slow loop, circling back
toward Lopez. Vaquero had already taken damage to his engines, and was having
trouble matching the Kilrathi s maneuvers.
He s coming in again . . . Lopez said. Firing . . .
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A smaller blip showed up on the sensors. Vaquero launched a missile. It must
have been a fire-and-forget model, judging from the way it bobbed and weaved in
pursuit of Ralgha s fighter. Hobbes tried to dodge it, but it caught him across the
port-side shield. Lopez let out a whoop and dove. Blair could almost see his
blasters pouring on the fire.
All right! Lopez shouted. That one s for Cobra! Get ready to say good-bye,
Hobbes.
Not today, I m afraid, Ralgha replied evenly. The Kilrathi s fighter released a
barrage of missiles. They struck in quick succession.
Cristos . . . I m breaking up! Vaquero called. Adios, amigos . . .
And then he was gone.
God damn you, Blair growled. God damn you to hell.
Is that you. . . old friend? Hobbes asked. For a moment, he sounded like
Blair s old wingman, worried, ready to help. It would be wisest if you turned
back, Colonel. Before I am forced to deal with you as well.
Deal with this . . . old friend! Blair shouted. Ralgha s Excalibur was just
coming into extreme range, and Blair let loose a volley of blaster fire. But Hobbes
anticipated it, and the shots only grazed his shields.
Ralgha turned away, as if to run. Blair s hands clenched on the steering yoke.
If Hobbes decided to use his cloak, he might still get away . . .
But a cloak used a lot of power, and that would slow him down. Too much of a
delay would give Victory time enough to get more fighters into the area and since
Hobbes could only be heading for the Freya jump point to warn the Kilrathi fleet,
it wouldn t be that difficult to find him.
Ralgha suddenly rolled up and back, a classic Immelman maneuver that
almost took Blair by surprise. He cursed again as he dodged the Kilrathi s fire. He
of all people should have anticipated Ralgha s moves. But he wasn t flying quite
the way he usually did. There was something different in his style, more reckless,
more aggressive. More like the Kilrathi Blair usually met in battle.
As Hobbes sped past, Blair checked his sensor readouts on the other
Excalibur. Vaquero had penetrated the armor, all right. If the port shield went
down, Ralgha would be vulnerable, and he was sure to be sensitive to that
weakness. Hobbes had used all of his missiles to knock out Lopez, giving Blair a
significant advantage.
The Kilrathi started to swing around as Blair turned to follow him. He let
Hobbes finish his turn, then suddenly opened up his afterburners for a charge
right at the other fighter, a move he was sure Hobbes would never expect from
him. Blaster fire raked across his forward shields, but he ignored it, even when
the shield generator alarm went off. His shields were going down . . .
Ralgha stopped firing, his weapons on recharge. The Kilrathi swerved sharply
away, trying to keep his port side out of Blair s line of fire. The two fighters were
close together now, and Blair had to kill his momentum quickly to keep from
shooting right past Hobbes.
The Terran allowed himself a grim smile and locked on a pair of heat-seekers.
As Ralgha finished his turn and exposed his tail, Blair let the missiles go and
opened up with every beam weapon he possessed.
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Impressive, my friend, Hobbes said as the barrage struck home. Impressive
. . . I fear that you have bested me . . . Now I shall never see Kilrah again.
The missiles detonated almost simultaneously as the Excalibur s rear shields
went down. The fighter came apart.
Blair thought he heard Hobbes call out his name before the fireball consumed
his craft.
Excalibur three-o-four, he said, his voice sounding dead in his own ears. He
couldn t feel anything, either sadness or satisfaction, at the knowledge that
Ralgha was gone. Hobbes . . . is gone. I m coming in.
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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Flight Wing Quarters, TCS Victory Blackmane System
Blair punched in a security code to unlock the door and stepped quickly
inside. He was glad there had been no one in the corridor to see him, to ask
questions, or to offer comments. He didn t think he could face anyone just now,
especially not here, in the quarters that had belonged to Ralgha nar Hhallas. The
door slid shut behind him and the lights came on automatically. They were set to
the dim reddish hue Hobbes favored, a reminder of Kilrah s K6 star.
A reminder of Ralgha s home . . .
Ralgha . . . Hobbes . . . It surprised Blair to realize how deep this wound went,
deeper even than Angel s death. He had known Ralgha nar Hhallas, flown with
him, loved him like a brother over the better part of fifteen long years. When
others had raised doubts, he had been firm in his faith in Hobbes, the one being
Blair would have trusted to the bitter end. . . and beyond. Yet Hobbes betrayed
him, betrayed them all. And the knowledge of that betrayal hurt as nothing Blair
had ever felt.
He turned to check the cabin control keypad beside the door, punching for
Terra-normal lights and lower heat and humidity than Ralgha had preferred. The
changes helped him push away the bitter thoughts of Hobbes, but not far enough
for any real peace of mind.
No doubt Paladin would want Ralgha s effects searched with a fine-tooth
comb in hopes of finding clues about the Kilrathi s treachery. Blair didn t plan to
disturb anything that might interest Covert Ops. But it was one of his duties, as
wing commander, to deal with the personal property of any pilot who died while
under his command, and much as he wanted to delegate it, this was one duty
Blair felt he had to see to himself. He could at least take a quick inventory of
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