“How long can we sustain this fire rate?” she asked.
“For as long as it takes. Energy isn’t a problem.”
The shuttle had anticipated a beam-weapon strike—Tunguska said this was almost inevitable—but it was limited in its defensive options. It could drop reflective chaff by shedding discrete layers of its hull, but not indefinitely. It could change its course randomly, making it more difficult for the beams to lock on to the bright aura of its drive flame—which was pointed away from them now, but still visible against the background of E2 and the inner surface of the ALS sphere—but every course correction cost it some of its hard-won lead. For the pilot of the shuttle, it was the trickiest of trade-offs to balance.
“Whatever Niagara does,” Tunguska said, “it will hurt him in the long run. All my simulations now point to a successful interception before he’s within drop-range of the atmosphere.”
There was something about the cocksure confidence of that statement that gave Auger goose pimples. It was like an invitation to fate.
That was when the bleed-drive chose to fail again.
She felt the ship stall in its chase, suddenly losing ground on its victim. The drive stuttered, pushing hard and then cutting out. The cushioning embrace of the ship did its best to smooth over the sudden changes in acceleration, but Auger still felt several lapses in consciousness as the blood in her brain sloshed around like mud in a bucket.
“Tunguska…” she gasped, when she was able, “maybe you want to rethink…”
The ship was in free fall. The drive had died completely, shut down by emergency control systems before instabilities opened a drooling mouth in the flesh of space itself.
Over the next several minutes, repair estimates began to trickle in. The drive was still fixable, but the patches put in place since the missile attack had now outlived their usefulness. It would take many hours before even a moderate push of one gee could be achieved.
Sensing that its charges no longer needed to be buffered against the jolts and swerves of combat, the ship relinquished its hold on Floyd, Auger and Tunguska, the white cocoons collapsing back into the familiar forms of table, chairs, floor, walls and ceiling.
“I hope,” Auger said, “that you have a backup plan, Tunguska. Because otherwise we’re screwed.”
Tunguska, to his credit, still managed to retain a credible gloss of authority. “I’ve already reviewed the options,” he said. “You’ll be pleased to hear that there is still a way of intercepting that spacecraft.”
“The missiles?” Floyd asked.
“No.” He gave a self-critical grimace. “Well, yes. But it’s not quite that simple.”
Auger looked at Floyd and rolled her eyes. “It never is. What’s your plan?”
“The missiles don’t have the range from here. My internal repair factories have license to manufacture almost anything except complete bleed-drive assemblies. I had to settle for small, crude fusion power plants. They’re fast and agile enough for the task and they’ll double as warheads, but only if they’re given a helping hand.”
The tone of his voice said beware. Whatever he was offering them, it was not without its costs.
“Such as?” Auger asked.
“They’ll need a delivery system. We can’t get close enough at the moment, and by the time the ship’s fixed it’ll be too late. But we still have the shuttle from the Twentieth. I had it fuelled and repaired as a matter of insurance. It’s a trivial matter to attach two missiles to it—they can grip the hull themselves, like parasites.”
“Can the shuttle make it in time?” Floyd asked.
“Just, although the margin for error is on the tight side. Someone will have to fly it.”
“Don’t you have a snake robot that can do it?” Auger asked.
“Not one that I can spare from the repair work.”
Auger made to stand. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Tunguska motioned for her to stay where she was. “When I said someone has to fly it, I meant myself.”
“There’s no reason why I can’t fly it instead,” Auger said. “Whatever knowledge you have, Cassandra can give to me.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Tunguska said.
“Why not? The machines will show me what I have to do.”
“That’s not the point. I have no doubt that they could give you the necessary competence, but it’s much better if I take the shuttle, with Floyd as a passenger.”
“I don’t follow,” Auger said.
He sighed, as if he’d been hoping that he would not have to explain. “The problem is that whoever rides that shuttle may never make it home.” He made a steeple of his fingers, slowing his voice so that every word had the measured emphasis of some terrible pronouncement. “Intercepting Niagara is still feasible, even now. But by the time the shuttle releases its missiles, it will barely have time to return to this point, let alone leave the ALS completely. The wound is closing. It will be a very, very close-run thing, even if the wound does not quicken its rate of closure. Which I cannot guarantee.” He took a deep breath and looked at Auger. “Which is why you cannot be on that shuttle. You will remain here, ready to depart the ALS as soon as the bleed-drive can be restarted.”
“And you?”
“I will ensure that the missiles find their mark. When that is done, I will return Floyd to the surface of E2.”
“And then?” she said.
“I will evaluate the situation. If circumstances permit, I will attempt to return to this ship. If they don’t… well, I can’t leave the shuttle lying around in the ALS, where Floyd’s people might find it. I’ll arrange for its disposal. It shouldn’t be difficult.”
Auger wanted to make sure that she understood exactly what he meant. “Kill yourself, in other words.”
“If you must put it so bluntly.”
She shook her head. “That’s not how it’s going to happen. You already said I could fly the ship as well as you.”
“What I said—” Tunguska began.
“I’m taking Floyd home,” she said. “I dragged him into this, so I can damned well drag him out of it.”
Floyd reached out and took her arm. “No. Listen to Tunguska. He’s talking a lot of sense.”
“You’d condemn him, to save me?”
“No one’s talking about condemning anyone. He doesn’t have to commit suicide. He can always keep looking for another way out.”
“Then I can do the same,” Auger said. She snapped around to the Slasher. “Get us on that ship.”
“ ‘Us?’ ”
“Floyd and me.”
“And Cassie?” he asked slowly.
“We’ve discussed the matter,” Auger said. “Cassandra wants to come along for the ride.”
Tunguska’s face formed an expression of defeat, and he shook his head. “You shouldn’t make me do this.”
“But I am.”
“I still need another twenty minutes to finish the missiles and interface them with the shuttle’s avionics. I’ve figured that time into my calculations, so use it wisely. There’s still a chance to change your mind.”
“I don’t need more time—my mind’s made up,” Auger said.
Tunguska gave a weary smile, accepting that there was nothing to be gained from further debate. “I always knew you’d want it this way,” he said. “I just had to be certain.”
“May I ask one small favour, before we say goodbye?” Floyd asked.
“If I can help, I will.”
“I need something from you. Two things, really.”
Tunguska spread his hands wide in a gesture of reasonableness. “What can I do?”
“You can make almost anything on this ship, can’t you?”