Whitestar 97
Chapter 11: the Battle of Tifar
The Governor of Tifar opened his safe and took out the strange round communications device. It had no controls, no screen or holographic projector. He stroked it to life, and it glowed. He held it for exactly the amount of time it took to recite a short prayer to Valen in his mind. Blasphemy, perhaps; but the hour was desperate. Then he locked the device back in the safe.
"When you've served your purpose," the Governor muttered, "somehow I'll be rid of you. We did not do this only to serve another master."
Whether his secret allies knew his intention or not, he saw that they were going to uphold their part of the bargain. Outside his office window, a dust cloud rose on the edge of town. A buried ship was shaking off its camouflage and preparing to rise.
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"Target weapons and engines only," Firuun ordered. "Fire at will." The local fleet was no match for a Whitestar. It did not even include one real war cruiser. Only a few old patrol wagons, abandoned on Tifar's military airfield because they were obsolete. They had recently been refurbished, but none of them were as swift or as well armed as a Whitestar.
Brights beams of destruction lanced out again and again.
Whitestar 97's gunner took two of the patrol ships out of the fight with precise engine shots while they were still lifting from the planet. That necessitated most of the rest of Tifar's fleet coming to their rescue to tractor them in and set them down so they did not fall into the gravity well and crash.
There was only one patrol ship left. It drove straight for the Whitestar, head on, and fired.
A bang, a jerk and a sizzle of damaged circuitry shook the Whitestar's bridge. "They're firing to kill!" a young warrior squeaked from somewhere behind Firuun.
"Come about and return fire," Firuun thundered.
The Whitestar maneuvered, going for a lock on the enemy's weapons. The two ships danced the deadly dance of phased particle beams. Finally the Whitestar's gunner took out the patrol ship's weapons, and the crippled patrol ship slowed and fell behind.
"Helm. Take us in."
For a few moments the only sound was the thrum of the living ship repairing itself. Then they entered the atmosphere, and there was a high whistling sound as air molecules moved across the ship's skin. The sound changed pitch and grew louder as Whitestar 97 flew into thicker air.
The Whitestar swooped down toward Dash, glowing with the heat of its passage. The ship began to slow in preparation for landing.
A dust cloud rose on the edge of Dash, but the combatants did not perceive it as a threat. Then out of the dust came a dark shape, faintly iridescent in the autumn light of Tifar. A shape like a predator's mouth, bristling with black feline whiskers. No, not whiskers; legs.
"Shadow vessel!" Firuun boomed. "Break off, break off!"
The Shadow ship fired, lighting up the atmosphere. It struck the Whitestar as it skimmed low over Dash, knocking over several Whitestar crewmen.
"Climb!" Firuun ordered. "Run for space! Communications, alert the strike team. We can't get to them."
The young gunner's hands shook, but stayed poised over his controls, waiting for a chance to attack.
The Shadow vessel scored several hits, and the Whitestar shuddered and slowed.
"Signal the Medusa," Firuun roared. "We need help."
Firuun did not state the obvious. The Medusa did not have a telepath onboard either. They had no means of fighting a Shadow vessel.
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Carla kept looking over her shoulder, expecting to see a phalanx of tan uniforms in hot pursuit. So she collided with the Brakiri smuggler when he stopped suddenly. All around her, people were bolting for cover.
The attack was coming from in front. Black uniforms: soldiers, not police. Laser lights streaked all around her, going in both directions.
Carla dove behind a parked ground vehicle. Several Minbari were behind it too.
She reached for a sidearm; she did not have one. She remembered she had dropped her commandeered police ray gun.
"Give me a weapon," Carla said, a little breathlessly. Then her voice hardened into a sergeant's voice. "Somebody give me a weapon!"
A Minbari crewmember, still in the white robes of the doctor disguise, put something metal in her hand. Carla vented a hysterical laugh when she realized it was a denn'bok.
Someone whistled, and Carla looked across the street to a doorway, where Sheridan sheltered against the firefight, his ray gun glowing slightly on the end from rapid fire. He locked eyes with her and pointed down the alley behind Carla, and made a circling motion.
It was not the precise signals that Marines used in the field, but his meaning was clear. Carla nodded, and touched the shoulder of the nearest Minbari. "Follow me."
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At the front of firefight, Khunnier had taken refuge in the meager cover of a utility box. He was afraid it was going to be hit exactly wrong and explode at any moment. But he kept ducking out one side or the other and firing.
Then he heard an amplified voice say, "We have you surrounded. Put down your weapons." It was coming from behind.
Khunnier looked behind and saw the tan uniforms of a police squad walking up the alley. His cover was no good from that angle.
His heart raced. What was he going to do? He had to take the chance that they would not kill him. Minbari do not kill Minbari. By the same token, he could not kill them either.
As if everyone was having the same internal debate, the shooting paused.
So far the firefight had resulted in death only when the aliens fired. The Whitestar crew only laid down covering fire, and occasionally picked off a gun hand or two. And the opposing warriors had never had a good shot at anyone.
Then, suddenly, the street blazed with deadly light. A killing beam swept across the whole police line, scything them down like a farmer cutting hay.
The rain of death had come from a doorway. Khunnier could not see who it was from there, since he was in front, sharing a view with the enemy warriors.
The enemy fired a few times, futilely, at the doorway, but whoever was behind it did not show himself. But it had to be one of the aliens. Khunnier dismissed the thought and prepared to fire another unaimed covering shot, when a whoosh and a sonic boom came from overhead.
It was the Whitestar! It glowed white-hot from reentry. Khunnier let out an inarticulate cheer.
Then there was a scream in his mind. A Shadow vessel rose from the planet and fired at the Whitestar. Their rescue ship banked and peeled off, gaining altitude as the Shadow vessel pursued it beyond the horizon.
Khunnier saw the Shadow ship score a hit on the Whitestar before the aerial combat passed beyond sight around the curve of the world.
He felt cold, and he could not think. Then he heard cries of surprise and pain from the end of the street.
Carla charged the enemy guns with a Pike in her hand. Laughing.
End of Chapter 11
