Part 32 (1/2)

”Just get us there,” I yelled.

”As long as we stay close to the big wrecks, they aren't going to shoot,” the pilot chanted. ”They aren't going to shoot.” He made a sharp turn, then darted under the bulbous bow of a derelict battles.h.i.+p. I caught a glimpse of the jagged edges of a torn hull.

”They won't shoot,” the pilot repeated. He had to make the transport twist and drop to avoid an outcropping where two of the wrecks had drifted into each other. Transports were not designed for maneuverability. Behind us, the walls of the kettle groaned with every turn.

As we snaked our way between the demolished wreckage of the Mogat Fleet, a U.A. battles.h.i.+p closed in beside us. For a brief moment it was no more than a thousand yards away, and it kept its distance, like a cat waiting for a mouse to leave its hole.

”We have to get across there.” The pilot pointed in the direction of the s.h.i.+p.

I looked at the empty stretch ahead, knowing that we would be an easy target the moment we entered it. We could not continue straight ahead, a s.h.i.+p blocked our way. ”Cut your engines,” I said.

”What?” asked the pilot.

”Cut your engines and put up your s.h.i.+elds.”

The wing of a dead capital s.h.i.+p stretched out, just at the edge of my vision.

”We'll hit that s.h.i.+p,” the pilot said.

”Yeah, it's called the element of surprise,” I said.

”Plowing into that wreck s.h.i.+eld first could set off an explosion,” he reminded me.

”You see any other options?” I asked.

”Hold on tight.”

The transport did not slow when the pilot cut its thrusters, it slid forward at that same speed. I braced myself in my seat, helpless, as we drifted toward the wreck. We came in at an angle, skimming off the giant wing like a stone skipping water, the blue-white pane of our front s.h.i.+elds s.h.i.+mmering like lightning in the darkness and once again becoming invisible.

The momentum would have bucked me out of my chair if not for the straps holding me in my seat. There were no fires or explosions inside our s.h.i.+p, transports were made to take worse beatings than this.

The collision did not rebound us in the direction we wanted to go, but at least the ricochet sent us in a different direction than the big battles.h.i.+p. Leaning into the winds.h.i.+eld, I watched the glowing, s.h.i.+elded hull of the battles.h.i.+p as it drifted away.

Fast and large and flying in a frictionless field, the U.A. s.h.i.+p was unable to turn sharply and follow us. Instead, it fired its particle-beam cannons at us. One of the green beams missed us entirely. The other glanced off the s.h.i.+elds around the c.o.c.kpit.

”Do you know where we need to go?” I asked the pilot.

”Yes, sir,” the pilot said, as he started to double back into a shoal of ruined s.h.i.+ps.

”So get us there!” I yelled.

”There's no cover in that direction!”

Something solid, probably a torpedo, struck us hard along our back. The shot sent us skittering into a spin. Had our engines been damaged, we might have gone cartwheeling into s.p.a.ce, but our tough little transport adapted. The pilot hit the engines, using one set of boosters to stop our spin and another to launch us in what I hoped was the right direction. The yaw from his sudden turn wrenched me to one side.

”Is that where we want to go?” I asked.

”Not quite there,” the pilot admitted. As he saw me reach for my pistol, he added, ”I know what I'm doing. Don't hit me!”

21:56:42.

I needed to forget about the specking clock.

The debris around us was just as large as our transport. We battered our way through chunks of s.h.i.+p, unrecognizable trash, furniture, and an occasional corpse. We flew past a familiar shape: another transport, one of ours, playing possum. A second or two later, we slid into a tight alley between the busted hull of a destroyer and the ruins of an even bigger s.h.i.+p.

Two glowing U.A. battles.h.i.+ps circled us at a leisurely pace, like vultures waiting for their meal. They had all the time in world. We were small, slow, and unarmed.

21:57:10.

”Please tell me we are headed in the right direction?” I asked the pilot.

Warshaw answered the question. The first laser flared out like a spear, striking the battles.h.i.+p head-on. The steady stream of silvery red laser fire lashed at the U.A. s.h.i.+p's bow, striking just below the top deck.

The second of the Unified Authority battles.h.i.+ps charged in, heading toward the source of the attack. As it did, another s.h.i.+p fired its lasers. The s.h.i.+elds around both U.A. s.h.i.+ps flashed brighter and brighter as the second battles.h.i.+p tried to return fire. When the third battles.h.i.+p entered the shooting gallery, Warshaw ordered all of his s.h.i.+ps to let loose.

The light from the s.h.i.+elds grew brighter and brighter. From where I sat, it looked as if the scene were happening in daylight instead of deep s.p.a.ce. Listless derelicts floating like clouds, their laser beams straight as the spokes of a wheel, fired lasers into the glowing s.h.i.+elds of the U.A. s.h.i.+ps.

The s.h.i.+elds around one of the U.A. s.h.i.+ps began to fail, allowing our lasers to strike the unprotected hull. The s.h.i.+p took damage. Bubbles appeared along its bow. The bubbles punctured the outer walls of the s.h.i.+p, and flames appeared. Where there are flames, there must be oxygen-air was leaking from the outer wall of the s.h.i.+p. Death.

We must have drifted within interLink range. Warshaw had created an open channel so that his men could hear what was happening. I heard men cheering and shouting. Warshaw shouted, ”One down!”

The guns on the second s.h.i.+p fell silent as its s.h.i.+eld failed. The side of the s.h.i.+p bubbled, then burst, spewing flames, men, and debris into s.p.a.ce. Fires danced and died inside the hull, and the s.h.i.+p went dark. The s.p.a.ce around it went dark as well, except for the silver-red threads of laser drilling into the third s.h.i.+p.

My pilot went wild. He cheered with the sailors manning the lasers. He pumped his fists in the air. Listening in to the chatter on the open channel, I heard one man crying and another saying a prayer.

The s.h.i.+eld around the third s.h.i.+p changed color from honey gold to a sickly green, and suddenly the s.h.i.+p seemed impervious to our lasers. Pinp.r.i.c.ks of light appeared around the hull, tiny little flashes as if someone had lit up little electrodes in sequence.

”What is . . .” I started to ask the question out loud without meaning to.

Someone said, ”They're firing torpedoes,” over the interLink. It might have been Warshaw.

The crew of that final Unified Authority battles.h.i.+p did not need to aim, they just trained their torpedoes along the laser beams. The derelicts were ma.s.sive, but brittle and unprotected. One moment, we had seven s.h.i.+ps spinning a laser web around the last U.A. battles.h.i.+p, then there were only three. Two of the old derelicts simply went dark when the torpedoes. .h.i.t them. The other two lit up like skyrockets.

The U.A. battles.h.i.+p fired off a second fusillade of torpedoes, then it exploded. Particle beams and torpedoes slammed into it from three different directions, nearly shearing the s.h.i.+p in half. The green s.h.i.+eld evaporated as the hull cracked open and twisted. An enormous fireball flashed and vanished, leaving behind a pitch-black carca.s.s.

Franks had arrived. His three battles.h.i.+ps flew in tight formation, cutting across the graveyard like eagles coming in for the kill, but there was nothing left to kill.

”I thought you came here to collect equipment, not fight a war,” Franks said over an open frequency.

The clock in my visor said the time was 21:59:57.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE.

Brigadier General Kelly Thomer sat slumped in his chair, his arms dangling over the sides, his breakfast barely touched. He had potatoes, eggs, toast, bacon, and orange juice-a meal for a man with an appet.i.te. As I looked at his hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes, I did not think that the man matched the meal. The fluffy yellow kernels of scrambled eggs sat in an untouched pile on his plate. All of the Marines I knew painted their eggs with ketchup.

”Are you planning on eating those eggs or hatching them?” I asked.