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for a second, “except the admiral
and I are expecting trouble.” Crineal watched as most of them straightened up
and listened more attentively. “There is no evidence but we think the rebels
might try something. Probably a hit and run raid. I want everyone to be sharp
and watch those sensors. No stunts or jerking off today,” he warned them, “Ok,
get to your ships and I’ll see you out there.”
    The
pilots all stood and saluted him and then filed out of the room; Strieger and
Crineal brought up the rear. He entered the launch bay and nodded to the tech
standing by his Hunter doing the last of the pre-flight ground checks. “Are we
ready, Chief?”
    Tech
Chief Uttepal turned and saluted him. “Yes, Sir. All systems checked and
green.”
    Crineal
nodded and climbed the steps. “Good. I’ll see you later, Chief.”
    “We’ll
have a nice warm bay waiting for you, Sir,” he replied as he closed the hatch
on the general’s Hunter.
    Crineal
went through the pre-flight sequence and then kicked the engines into life. He
smoothly lifted the fighter off the deck, retracted the landing skids and
thrust gently out of the bay, slowly building power until he reached cruising
speed. As he cleared the carrier he could see the Earth below him. From up here
it looked just as he remembered: the blues browns and greens wrapped in swathes
of white.
    Shaking
his head clear of these distracting thoughts, he toggled his comm link on.
“This is Delta Leader to all flight leaders; form on me in standard patrol
formation.” Crineal switched channels as the squadron assembled around him.
“Beta Leader, this is Delta Leader. I’ve set our route so we end up in an area
between the Orbital and a line out to the star system Larahope. Fleet Intel
thinks the rebels have a base out that way, even if they can’t find it. I expect
them to try and catch us when we’re tired and out of position. I’m hoping that
we can at least be in place even if we’re tired. Expect the last hour of the
patrol to be the hottest.”
    Strieger’s
calm voice came back. “Roger that, Delta Leader. We’ll be waiting.”
    Crineal
fed the patrol route into his nav system and then relayed it to the rest of the
squadron.  Even if the rebels had spies on board the carrier, which he deemed
unlikely, there was no way they could know his patrol route. He hadn’t talked
about it to anyone and this was the first time his pilots were seeing it. It
placed the patrol just on the edge of long range torpedo fire from the carrier.
If the rebels were smart they would jump in about that range, orientate
themselves and get torpedo locks as they powered up their energy weapons. They
would expect to be out and turning for home before the fighter screen could
react. Maybe he could pull a repeat of Zephos Mining Station with calculation,
rather than luck, this time. He settled back in his flight couch for what he
expected to be seven hours of nervous boredom and maybe thirty minutes of hell.
    Seven
hours and fifteen minutes later his prediction had proven accurate, apart from
the hell bit. No rebels had shown up anywhere and it was nearly time to turn
for home. He knew his pilots were all exhausted and he looked forward to seeing
them off on their leaves tomorrow. He’d just keyed his comm link when his
sensor display flickered for a second and then spiked as it started to scream
updated information about new contacts. Crineal’s eyes flicked over the data as
he took in the numbers. Oh damn, he thought, three full squadrons of Axes
leading in a squadron of Archers. Ninety fighters and thirty bombers. The Archers
were the preferred bomber of the rebels. Even though there were only thirty of
them, that was enough to saturate the carrier’s defenses and score some hits if
not significant damage. Each Archer usually carried ten energy torpedoes in
pods slung under the fuselage in addition to a pair of lasers. Loaded this way
they were ungainly and easy targets. He assimilated the