Part 30 (1/2)

”Governor?” F'ahl's voice from the intercom made her jump. ”Will he live?”

She hesitated. With the blood loss stopped and the seal-spray's anti-shock factors supporting York's system... but she knew better than to give even herself false hope. ”Not a chance,” she told F'ahl quietly. ”He needs the

Dewdrop's medical facilities within an hour or less.”

”Almo-”

”Might be able to get him here in time. But he won't. If he tries he'll just get himself killed, too.” The words burned in her mouth, but she knew they were true. With the Qasamans and their birds jarred out of any overconfidence they might have had. Pyre wouldn't get within ten meters of the bus. But he would try anyway....

And now there was no other choice. ”Captain, prepare the Dewdrop for lift,” she said, her eyes straying at last from the display, only to stop on Justin lying in his couch. His fists, too, were clenched, but if he recognized she had just condemned his brother to death he didn't show it. ”We'll try to take out as much of the tower and forest weaponry before we go and hope the s.h.i.+p can absorb whatever we don't destroy.”

”Understood, Governor.”

Telek turned to the lounge doorway, where Winward and Link were standing, their faces pale and grim. ”We won't be able to get it all from here,” she told them quietly.

”Already figured that out,” Winward grunted. ”When do you want us to head out?”

The pre-launch sequence would take at least ten minutes. ”About fifteen minutes,” she said.

Winward nodded. ”We'll get geared up.” Together the two Cobras turned and left.

”Full survival packs,” Telek called after them.

”Sure,” the reply drifted back along the corridor.

But she wasn't fooling anyone, and they all knew it. Even if the two Cobras lived through the coming battle, there was virtually no chance the Dewdrop would be able to come back and pick them up. a.s.suming the Dewdrop survived its own gauntlet.

Well, they'd find out about that in half an hour or less. Until then-Until then, there'd be enough time to watch Pyre die in his rescue attempt.

Because it was her duty to do so, Telek turned her attention back to the displays. But the taste of defeat was bitter in her throat, and she felt very, very old.

Chapter 17.

Joshua's heart was a painful thundering in his throat, his eyes blurred by tears of fear and sympathetic pain. Hidden from sight by the white crust of the seal-spray, York's terrible arm injuries were burned into Joshua's memory as if the vision would be there forever. Oh, G.o.d, Decker, he mouthed. Decker!

And he'd done nothing to help. Not during York's escape attempt nor even afterwards. Rynstadt and Cerenkov had jumped in with their medical kits; but

Joshua, terrified of the Qasamans and mojos, hadn't twitched a muscle to a.s.sist them. If it'd been up to him, York would've quietly bled to death.

People expect great things from us. He felt like a child. A cowardly child.

”We've got to get him back to the s.h.i.+p,” Cerenkov murmured, raising a blood-stained arm to wipe at his cheek. ”He's going to need transfusions and G.o.d only knows what else.”

Rynstadt muttered something in response, too low for Joshua to hear. Lifting his gaze finally from the carnage, Joshua looked up toward the front of the bus to see Moff watching them, his gun braced and ready on the nearest seat back. The bus had sped up, Joshua noted mechanically, and ahead in the gloom he could see a cl.u.s.ter of dim lights. An unwalled village or crossroads checkpoint? Joshua guessed the latter. A half dozen vehicles were faintly visible, as was a small shed-like building.

And milling among them a lot of Qasamans.

The bus came to a halt among the cl.u.s.ter of vehicles. It had barely stopped before a burly Qasaman had the door open and had bounded inside. He exchanged a half-dozen rapid-fire sentences with Moff, then looked at the Aventinians.

”Bachuts!” he snapped, hand jabbing emphatically toward the door.