“This is the window,” Bobbie said. “It doesn’t look like a trap, because we aren’t trying to hide. We get there first, and we’re just part of the traffic. So all we need is a lure. Something so critical that the Tempest will follow it where we want it to go. That will be the Storm.”
She let it sink in. It was like she could see the implications settling in each face looking toward her. It was a sucker punch. One shot, and if it failed each and every one of them would be dead. The underground would lose its only warship with Laconian tech.
“I’ll captain the shuttle with Rini as tech specialist. Jillian will be in command of the Storm.” That made her second sit up a little straighter. Her jaw was firm. She looked like a hunting dog that had caught a scent. “The Storm’s mission is to hold the Tempest to this course so that the shuttle stays in the enemy’s blind spot.”
Alex, sitting to the side, leaned forward. His hands were on his knees, and his eyes were cast down toward the deck. She didn’t know what he was thinking.
“If anyone doesn’t want to do this,” Bobbie said, “I’m not going to force you. We have four days before the shuttle is ready and the orbits are where I want them. I will be accepting resignations until that time. No sugarcoating. This is the most dangerous thing we’ll have ever done. Even if we win, we may sustain losses. Potentially heavy losses. But each and every one of you has my word that if I thought this was hopeless, we wouldn’t be doing it.
“I have sent detailed briefs to your team leaders. Look them over. If you have questions, for fuck’s sake ask them. We’re not going to screw this up because someone turned left instead of right. Understood?”
There was a ragged muttering of assent.
“I said, Am I understood!”
The reply was more like a cheer now. It filled the space. There was power in it.
“Outstanding. You have your orders. Dismissed.”
Jillian was out of her seat in a moment, herding the crew like they were sheep. Nipping at them. It was something she’d have to get over before she had a command of her own. Bobbie let it play out, though. There was an energy in the ship that needed to work itself through. She felt it too.
Back in her cabin on the Storm, she put herself through the routine of cleaning and straightening her things. The cabin didn’t need it, but she did. The ritual calmed her. She found herself humming. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d done that. She needed to go back to her little campsite and clear out all signs of her occupation, but she waited anyway. She’d almost decided that Alex wasn’t going to come talk with her when he knocked at her cabin door.
“Hey,” she said.
“Naomi said it was a good idea?”
“She didn’t go that far. She might have just thought it was the right bad idea for the moment.”
Alex managed a little smile. His melancholy made her
feel almost ashamed of her lightness and anticipation. “If you need to step back, no one’s going to think less of you. Kit’s your son. Being part of his life and this too… If you’ve got to pick one, I’d understand.”
“You left out a part of the plan. What happens after the payload hits?”
“We’ve never done it before. So apart from an explosion that makes a nuke look like a firecracker, I’m not sure what I’d say. The Storm’s a tough ship, though. Even if there’s some debris hits, she can take it. Probably.”
“You’re going to want to get that shuttle behind something, though,” Alex said. “Put me on it. I’ll get it to shelter.”
“I need you on the Storm. Keeping the Tempest where I need it, when I need it? It’s going to take a great pilot. That’s you. Rini and I will be in power armor. The shuttle might get shredded, but we’ll be better protected than it will. And you’ll be there to come pick us up.”
Alex shifted his weight. She could see him looking for objections the way old married couples could see when one wanted the other to pass the salt.
“I don’t like putting us on different ships either,” Bobbie said. “But this is the right way to do it.”
“Yes, Captain. All right.” He sighed, and then, to her surprise, grinned. “This is going to be one hell of a rodeo.”
“They aren’t going to know what hit them,” Bobbie said. “My only regret is that Trejo won’t be on the ship when we blow it into hot, fast dust.”
“We can find him later,” Alex said. “I’m going to go obsessively run diagnostics on systems I know are solid so I can feel like I have control of something.”
“Sounds good,” Bobbie said. “I’m going to stay here and see how many of my crew quit rather than go through with this.”
“There won’t be any. These people will still follow when you lay siege to hell. We trust you.” Then, a moment later, “I trust you.”
The door closed behind him, and Bobbie sat in her crash couch like she was easing down into a warm bath. When she closed her eyes, she slept.
Chapter Thirty-One: Teresa