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a distant contact with the enemy back to the carrier. No, Major Marshall wasn't really suitable for any other squadrons. Colonel Dulbrunin probably made the same decision when making his original assignments. The kind of utility combat work which heavy fighters drew was the sort of operation Maniac was least likely to knock off course if he lost his head in a fight.
    Well, that meant he would have to stay where he was, at least until Blair could see if age and experience had mellowed Maniac, at least in the cockpit if not in his dealings with others. The man would just have to accept flying under Blair and Hobbes.
    But Blair knew it would make a tough job much more difficult for all of them.
* * *
Flight Wing Officer's Quarters, TCS Victory.
Torgo System
    Blair was studying his predecessor's logs on the monitor above his bunk when he heard a knock. "Enter," he said sitting up as the door opened to reveal Lieutenant Rollins.
    "Sorry to bother you so late, Colonel," Rollins said, "but we're boosting to the jump point, and the Comm Shack's been buzzing with last-minute incoming traffic all evening. I just got off shift."
    "We've got orders, then?"
    Rollins nodded. "Orsini System. It's been pretty quiet up until now, but the scuttlebutt has it the cats have been moving in lately. Guess we're supposed to make them feel safe or something."
    "Mmph." Blair stood up. "Okay, so we're jumping and you've been busy. Is there something you needed from me, Lieutenant?"
    "I . . . wanted to make sure you got this. It came in with some of the other message traffic. Rerouted from Confed HQ, for you." He handed Blair a holo cassette. "Er . . . here it is, sir."
    "You don't have to act so apologetic, man," Blair said realizing the cause of his embarrassed manner. "Comm officers see a lot of personal messages. I'm not going to bite off your head for reading my mail, Lieutenant."
    "Er . . . yes, sir. Thanks." Rollins left, still looking flustered.
    Blair set the cassette on the small table beside the bunk and touched the message stud. Letters formed in the air above the device, spelling out a message. The block of code numbers dated it to more than six months earlier, before the Battle of Earth. That was typical enough for messages that had to chase their intended recipients through space from one planet or one ship to another.
PRIVATE CODED COMM RELAY TO:
    Colonel Christopher Blair
    Terran Confed Armed Forces
    TCS Concordia
    —
REROUTED BY CONFED HQ TO
    — TCS Victory
    The words dissolved after a moment, and an image formed. It was Angel, still heart-stoppingly beautiful, looking out at him with the expression he remembered so well.
    "Hello, mon ami," she began, flashing her brightest smile. "I hope the fight goes well for you and all the others aboard Concordia. I have been given new orders to head up a mission, so I'm afraid we must be apart a little longer. Always remember je t'aime, je t'aime . . . I love you . . ."
    Blair stabbed at the switch, cutting the hologram off while tears stung his eyes. "Je t'aime, Angel," he said softly. "I love you, wherever you are . . . ."

CHAPTER III
Flight Control, TCS Victory.
Orsini System
    "Now hear this, now hear this," the shipboard tannoy blared. "Prepare for Flight Operations. Flight Deck personnel to launch stations."
    Blair's stride was brisk and purposeful as he entered the Flight Control Center, his helmet under one arm. It was good to be back in his G suit again, even if the mission at hand was no more than a routine patrol. In his two weeks aboard the Victory, he had been unable to strap on a fighter once, but today he would finally get a chance to be free of a wing commander's console work and move among the stars where he truly belonged.
    Chief Technician Rachel Coriolis looked up from a computer display with a grin. He had met her only once, in a general meeting of the flight wing's support personnel, without time to exchange more than a few words. That was Blair's problem ever since he took