We were almost done in the Rostov system. One way or another, this was make or break. Stop the cats here, and we’d have a clean shot straight into Venice, their command system. Lose, and we’d be fighting a delaying action trying to get the remnants of humanity out of the Vega Quadrant. None of us wanted to lose.
The cats weren’t going to make it easy. Ops had detected some big strike packages coming through the jump point. Iceman and I got tasked with checking on one of them. I don’t think I’d ever seen a Fralthi-class heavy cruiser before, but there it was, hanging right there in space, surrounded by four Krants from its on-board fighter wing.
Compared to our Concordia-class carriers, the Fralthis were a bit smaller, and carried a smaller fighter complement. On the other hand, they were faster, and carried a heavier organic weapon complement. Fralthi weren’t meant to operate alone, like the Claw. Instead they were supposed to work in pairs to maintain space superiority, or park a single one in high orbit around a planet that you wanted controlled.
Technically, Ice and my orders were to recon and head home. But knowing Kilrathi tactics, we couldn’t leave that ship there. Besides, a larger strike group would only encounter a larger escort.
We managed to make pretty short work of the Krants. I don’t know why the Fralthi didn’t launch more birds. Maybe they weren’t expecting company right after a jump, but it still seemed sloppy. Any time the Claw jumps, there’s at least two birds in the tubes, locked and loaded if there’s any surprises on the other side. Jump alert duty sucks, by the way. Only time I ever feel sick.
For a parting joke, a quartet of Dralthi tried to jump us among the rocks on our way home. Four Dralthi in an asteroid field, fighting a pair of Raptors. Hardly seems fair, doesn’t it? I hope I never see the Rostov system and those friggin’ asteroid fields again.