The couches shifted again as maneuvering thrusters on the ship’s skin fought against the massive inertia of steel and ceramic. The throbbing of PDCs and report of missile launches made a rough background music, but it was a quiet that caught Alex’s attention.
“The bad guys,” he said. “They stopped shooting.”
“Huh,” Bobbie said. Then a moment later, “Boarding action, then?”
“What I was thinking.”
“Well. How long do you want to stay in these couches before we go try to scare up some weapons?”
“Five minutes?”
“Works for me,” Bobbie said, taking out her hand terminal. “I’ll set a timer.”
The door of the meeting room cycled open at three minutes, twenty-five seconds. Three marines floated through in light battle armor, bracing against the doorframe and holding assault rifles at their sides. The first one – a thin-faced man with a scar running down the side of his nose – moved forward. It struck Alex that if the bad guys, whoever they were, had Martian warships, they probably also had Martian armor, but the thin-faced man steadied himself against the desk.
“Mister Kamal. Sergeant Draper. My name’s Lieutenant de Haan. The ship’s going to be maneuvering, so we’ll need to be careful, but I need you to come with me now.”
“Roger that, sir,” Bobbie said, popping the straps on her couch loose and shifting to launch for the door. Alex was only a beat behind her.
The marines moved through the weightless halls with practiced efficiency, cover to cover with one always in firing position at the back, another at the front, and Bobbie and Alex in the center of the formation. Twice, the ship lurched with Alex in the middle of a jump from one handhold to the next. The first time, he caught himself on a different support, but the second, he bounced off a bare length of deck, spinning through the air until one of the marines grabbed him and hauled him to safety. The one-sided sounds of battle grew first louder and then more distant. One bulkhead failed to open, reporting vacuum on the other side, and they had to backtrack. Like a restless dream, the journey seemed to go on forever and also be over almost as soon as it had begun.
On the bridge, the captain was strapped into her couch, the prime minister in the couch beside her. All around, the crewmen at their stations were rattling information to one another, and Alex caught bits of it, his mind forming a picture of their situation almost without knowing what exactly he’d heard to inform it. The main drive was down. The comm array was unable to
transmit either broadcast or tightbeam. There were hull breaches near engineering, the armory, and aft storage. Missiles could still be fired, but the guidance systems were down. No one mentioned the two frigates that had been flying with the ship since the main escort had been pulled away. Alex figured that meant they were dead.
“We are under attack and being boarded,” the captain said, her voice remarkably calm. “The original escort force is also now under concentrated attack, and will be unable to come to our relief. We have put out a broad distress call, but it seems unlikely in the extreme that anyone could make it here in time to affect the outcome of the conflict. We are preparing to offer a vigorous defense, but if we are unable to assure your safety, it may become necessary for you to evacuate.”
“Into the middle of a firefight?” Alex said.
“It isn’t optimal,” the captain said. “With respect, my first priority has to be the safety of the prime minister.”
“Of course, Skipper,” Bobbie said at the same time that Alex said, “That’s sounding a mite ominous.” The captain ignored both of them.
“We have half a dozen rescue pods prepped. Protocol is to give each of you an armed escort in the pod, and release them all at once, in hopes of distributing enemy attention and giving each of you the best possible chance of being overlooked.”
“That’s a shitty plan,” Alex said to the captain, then turned to the prime minister. “You know that’s a shitty plan, don’t you, sir?”
Smith nodded. His face was flushed, and a thin sheen of sweat danced across his neck and jowls, surface tension adhering it to his skin.
“Yeah,” Bobbie said. “Pods don’t have an Epstein. You’d be dropping us out there to get shot. And we have a racing yacht right here. The Razorback’s built for speed.”
The captain raised her hand, demanding silence. “What I was going to say? We can commandeer the Razorback for the prime minister, give her a pilot and an escort guard, but that means I’m still dropping two civilians into a meat grinder.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” Bobbie interrupted. “We’ve got a pilot and an escort right here. Don’t we? We can put Prime Minister Smith in the bunk and take the couches. Alex has more experience piloting that ship than any of you, and – all respect to Lieutenant de Haan – I can shoot as straight as anyone you’ve got. It’ll be tight, but it’s totally possible.”
“That’s where I was going, yes,” the captain said, her voice buzzing with annoyance. “In addition, the prime minister has made it clear that for political reasons, the presence of Sergeant Draper is required on Luna, so —”
“They said yes, Captain Choudhary,” the prime minister snapped. “Take yes for an answer.”
“Lieutenant?” Bobbie said. “If I’m acting escort on this mission, I’d really like to have a weapon.”
The thin-faced man smiled, his eyes glinting and cold. “I can arrange that, Gunny. Captain?”
The captain nodded sharply, and Lieutenant de Haan launched for the lift, Bobbie close behind him. Alex’s heart was beating double-time, but the fear was tempered by a growing excitement. Yes, he was in danger of losing his life. Yes, an unknown enemy had them surrounded and were likely about to storm the ship itself. But he was going to get to fly in battle again, and some immature, juvenile part of his soul could hardly wait.
“We will use our PDCs to cover you as long as we can,” the captain said, and Alex interrupted her again.
“Not going to be enough. If we’re burnin’ all the way to Earth… we can probably outrun the enemy ships, but their missiles don’t have to worry about keeping anyone inside from getting squished by thrust. And it ain’t like there’s anything out here to hide behind.”