Chapter 43

“One to Two and Three.”

Brad quickly briefed the Sentinels on the transmissions. It brought a grunt from Hodak, a sigh of relief from Myra, a squeal of delight from Kumiko, and a sarcastic “Well, it’s about time,” from Adari.

“Brad.” It was Drummer’s voice.

“Yes?”

“This conversation confirms feelings I’ve had since we joined forces against Narval, but I’d like to ask the question nevertheless.”

“No need to, Drummer. I was going to tell you at the first opportunity after you made your appeal to the ships’ Commanders. Your feelings were right: we’re all members of a UIPS team sent to Planet Pluto to keep Narval, and anyone else, from interfering with Slingshot. Our job is far from finished.”

Drummer lapsed into silence.

“Shouldn’t we give our side a rundown on what’s happening?” Myra asked.

“To do that we’d have to use unsecured channels,” Brad replied.

“As soon as we do that we’re in the open. Yargoul will get a fix on us, and pick us off with their long-range particle beamers. Right now we’re specks in a crowded and still disorganized field, and that’s our only protection. These fighters are Plutonian, and that’s part of our cover.”

“Well, look,” Adari sounded frustrated. “We’ve been carrying the ball for quite a spell. Our folks are here and ready to take over. We know where they’re at; let’s give ‘em our report in person. Then, maybe, I can wash my hair. I feel a mess.”

“This fleet still has a helluva lot of firepower left.” Hodak’s voice was grim and brusque. “We’re right among ‘em. We’re ‘point’ for our side.”

“You’re right,” Brad said. “Our job has changed: we’re eyes and ears for our people, even while we’re running interference. It’s not over for us until the fleets are within range of each other, and then we’d damn well better be out of the way.”

He paused to scan the arena, and added: “I’ll break into ‘clear’ in two minutes to give our people a sitrep. Don’t waste time on the INOR squadron they’re leaving behind to get us off their back. Head for the UIPS fleet in two minutes. Hold outside of their perimeter until I find out what they need from us. If you run into Yargoul’s fleet along the way, shoot first.”

“Three to One. Comin’ up on a cruiser. The protective screen on this one is tightenin’ up and it’ll be a hard nut to crack. Got me a tail-end charlie minesweeper. I’ll give it a try. At 1300 kay -- 800 -- 400. Two seconds burst right up the thrusters. Gone. They’ve marked us. We got laser-quads incoming. Into e-e-e-v-a-a-sive. Man, this baby’s got speed. Out of it. OK, One and Three. They’re organized again and sure as hell know we’re jabbin’ at ‘em. Ain’t gonna be easy to get outta here.”

“Two here. I hear you, Three. Got a couple of destroyers off my starboard bow. Coming around for a nose job. We’re marked. Got incoming, lots of it. At 1200 -- 800 -- 300. Two sec...”

Silence.

“One to Two. Come in.”

Silence.

A guttural howl of anguish tore through Brad’s earphone. Myra.

“I’m heading over, Brad,” she screamed, her voice hoarse and breaking.

Brad didn’t stop her, nor did he want to.

The battle cruiser Windstorm, surrounded by its destroyer screen, was in sight. Brad weighed his chances on getting close enough for an effective shot.

Studying the scene, Brad did not, at first, see the gray sphere separate from the Windstorm and plunge ahead. Hodak did, paled, and pointed wordlessly. Brad stared at the sphere. His heart pounded.

The Windstorm had launched a guided fusion warhead. The target was obvious.

Brad knew the warhead’s capabilities from the Neptune briefings. The Windstorm carried a K12, a fifteen meter-diameter warhead capable of destroying a natural minor satellite or a large populated colony. The bomb’s mass was such that a heavy cruiser could carry no more than one. One was all that would be needed to decide the battle. The fireball had a two thousand-kay radius, and the piggybacked neutronic dispenser, once the cloud was released by the detonation, would inflict radiation death throughout tens of thousands of kay in all directions.

The UIPS fleet faced annihilation, as did Slingshot.

Brad reacted instinctively. He jerked his ship around and pumped max thrust after the speeding warhead.

A second later his mind snapped back from its momentary panic.

“One to Three.” He recounted the facts. “If Two has survivors get them on board, or lash them to the sides, or whatever makes sense. Then catch up with us at max and give us a hand.

“These warheads are coated against detection in the old stealth style. I’ve got to warn our fleet what’s coming so they can go evasive as much as they can. Our fleet’s break from course or formation will mess up any tactics they have in mind. They won’t have time to form up even if they do escape the blast and radiation zones. Firing at the warhead won’t help, even at close range. It’s wrapped in so many layers of armor even particle-beamers can’t penetrate, so I don’t know what our explosive decompressors and laser-quads can do. But we’ve got to try.”

Two was a twisted, gray mass in a slow tumble when Three drew close. Myra reduced power in her ship’s magnetic beams and directed them at the wreck until it stabilized. She maneuvered until the ships touched. The beams held.

Myra pushed the canopy clear, climbed out, and crawled forward. She grasped a jagged projection on the wreck, swung aboard, and stared into what had been the control pit. She turned away and returned to her ship without looking at Drummer. Laser quads left little organic residue.

Brad switched to standard communications channels and keyed in his identity. In a moment they were switched to a channel closed to outsiders.