Free Heart Of The Tiger by William R. Forstchen, Andrew Keith Page B

with a hint of a smile. "Oh, I would never presume to do your job for you, sir. After all, choice of wingmen is your prerogative, isn't that right? I just work here . . ."
    "Well, consider your message delivered, Lieutenant." He smiled, coming to a decision about the woman. "And tomorrow afternoon, when you take that fourth shift patrol you're scheduled for . . ."
    "Yes, sir?"
    "I hope you'll be willing to break in a new wingman. He's an old-timer, but not a scrub . . . at least I hope not."
    "I'll be looking forward to it, sir."

CHAPTER VI
Thunderbolt 300.
Tamayo System
    "Well, looks like we came up dry again," Blair said over the comm channel, not bothering to hide his disgust. "Shall we head for home, Lieutenant?"
    "Sounds good to me, sir," Flint responded.
    The patrol was routine, like so many others the Victory's pilots encountered these past few weeks. It seemed that changing wingmen had not brought any corresponding change in Blair's luck.
    "Watchdog Leader, this is Kennel. Do you copy, over?" The voice belonged to Lieutenant Rollins. Victory's Communications Officer sounded keyed up.
    "This is Watchdog Leader," Blair said. "What've you got, Kennel?"
    "Long-range sensors are picking up a large flight of incoming bogies, Colonel," Rollins said. "And they ain't friendly, by the looks of things. They're coming from quadrant Delta . . . looks like a full-scale attack force, not just a patrol. Captain requests you RTB immediately."
    "Roger that, Kennel," Blair said. "We will Return To Base immediately." He was visualizing the tactical situation in his mind's eye. Relative to the carrier's position, ships coming out of Delta Quadrant would be almost exactly opposite the point he and Flint were covering on their patrol, and if the enemy appeared on the long-range sensors, they would be located within the same range of the ship as the two Thunderbolts. Blair could expect to get back to Victory at approximately the same time as the enemy, presuming they were planning to press home the attack.
    Suddenly he wished that he had not complained about the lack of action quite so much . . . .
    "Kennel, this is Watchdog Leader," Blair went on after a moment's pause. "Order Red and Gold Squadrons on a full magnum launch, all fighters up. Colonel Ralgha to take operational command until I arrive. And call in all Blue Squadron patrols as well. I want them to rendezvous with me at coordinates Beta-Ten-Niner."
    "Rendezvous . . . Beta-Ten-Zero-Nine," the lieutenant repeated. "Understood."
    "Have Chief Coriolis put up a refueling shuttle to meet us at those coordinates. Launch ASAP . . . before the furballs get close enough to interfere."
    "A fuel shuttle, Colonel?" Rollins sounded uncertain.
    "You heard me, Lieutenant," Blair said. "All of the patrol flights are near the end of their cycles out here. I was about to head for home, but I don't plan on any of us hitting an all-out donnybrook with dry tanks, so we'll do some in-flight refueling before we join the party. Any problems with that on your end?"
    "Ah . . . wait one, Watchdog," Rollins said. Blair could picture the man, in the silence that followed, passing on the gist of his orders to Eisen for confirmation.
    While he waited for a confirmation from Victory, Blair called up his navigation display and entered the rendezvous coordinates into the autopilot. "Flint, you copy all that?"
    "Yeah, Colonel," she responded, sounding excited. "Looks like we get a little party after all."
    "Watchdog, this is Kennel," Rollins said before he had a chance to respond to Peters. "Your instructions are being carried out. Captain says not to stop for any sightseeing along the way."
    "Tell him the cavalry's on the way," Blair said, smiling. "Okay, Flint, you heard the man. Punch it!"
    The computer took over the controls, steering the fighter toward the rendezvous point while Blair concentrated on monitoring the comm channels to keep track of the unfolding operation. It appeared things were going smoothly