“This analysis program is at least as good as anything you’ve ever worked with, Chu-sa. ” The old woman’s voice was aggrieved. “But one lifeboat is as good as the next. Engaging drives on your mark.”
“Underway then, Pilot.”
The Wilful ’s maneuver drive flared briefly, and then the secondary thrusters kicked in, reorienting the freighter. On their new heading, the little ship glided forward into the darkness, hurrying towards its next rescue.
Once the battle-cruiser had entered the Pinhole proper, Kosho was tempted to put on more speed. Unfortunately, only a thousand kilometers into the aperture the topology of the threads grew more complex, and she was forced to cut speed to three-quarters. This ended the brief respite from Khaiden bombardment. Fusion detonations began to flare around them, scattering the clouds of chaff which Konev and his crews had been liberally ejecting to mask their position. The scavenged remotes had been expended on their approach, so the Naniwa was back to her own resources.
The space-frame shook, rattling the consoles in Command, as a series of bomb-pods blew apart off their ventral quarter. The Khaid battleships were refining their firing solutions. Compartment alarms sounded, but Susan had no attention to spare for them.
“ Chu-sa, we’ve about three hundred sixty sprint-class contacts incoming,” Konev warned.
“Understood,” Kosho gritted out through clenched teeth. She cast about in the topology rushing towards her, looking for a pocket she could lay the battle-cruiser into. Nothing sprang into view…
“ Chu-sa! We have to try and rescue the Prince!” Holloway had muted the comm channel, but his voice was near panic at the thought of abandoning the most superior officer he’d ever come into contact with.
“Sixty-five seconds to missile storm impact,” Konev announced, his voice flat. The weapons officer’s fingers were flying across his control surface. “All point-defense engaged.”
“Weapons, rolling aspect in thirty-five seconds.” That’ll bring the dorsal batteries into play.
“ Hai, kyo! ”
Susan spared a glance for Holloway. “I won’t lift a finger for the Prince, not if it places my crew and ship in danger-he won’t be the first great lord of the Mexica to die gloriously in battle.” Kosho managed a tight, wintry grin as her fingers danced lightly on the control console. The threatwell was now fairly choked with gleaming strands of Barrier threads, yet the “passageway” had not completely closed. A fresh plume of the invisible razors now emerged from the chaotic storm on the sensors. The constant detonations of Khaid missiles were fouling the ship’s perceptions, and the Naniwa had lost enough shipskin to seriously degrade her capabilities in the best of circumstances.
“Incoming!” The ship rolled aspect, jets of propellant erupting along her flanks. A second later the decking vibrated violently as the dorsal point-defense erupted-clouds of counter-missiles erupting from the launch racks; beam nacelles discharging, the smaller gun-pits hammering away with ballistic munitions. The Khaid missile cloud staggered, nearly two-thirds of the incoming birds shattered or knocked aside. Konev’s spoofing pods and emitters whined into high-output, sending another sixth of the sprint missiles into electronic catatonia, or off into the void, chasing phantoms.
The dorsal armor took the rest head-on. Kosho felt the ship lurch, hammered by nearly a hundred impacts. Huge swathes of shipskin went dark, ruptured, and the damage control board-just visible off to her left-flared red along a jagged S-curve. The ship crabbed behind the plume of threads she’d picked out.
“ Chu-sa, we’re down to minimal load on the external batteries,” Konev reported. “I’ve no shipkillers left on the rails and resupply is backed up. Magazines three, four, and seven are off-line.”
The bridge was filled with a sea of beeping alarms and the tense chatter of damage control teams reporting in. Only Holloway was still turned towards her, finger pressed to his earbug, his face growing longer by the moment. The Thai-i shook his head. “ Chu-sa, he orders you to retrieve the capsule.”
“What does the Prince offer in return? What does he have to say to me?” Susan’s voice was Kelvin-zero cold. Holloway flinched back, saying nothing.
“Konev,” Kosho said levelly to her weapons officer, “let the next wave of missiles break on this plume”-her stylus indicated the formation-“don’t engage them with point-defense so far out. Be frugal-we’re a long way from a Fleet depot.”
“ Hai, kyo! ” The Russian nodded, then tried to focus on the threatwell. Susan turned back to the Pilot. “Well?”
“ Chu-sa, I didn’t tell him what you said!” Holloway was obviously terrified at the prospect of bartering for the life of a member of the Imperial household. Susan’s expression hardened. Holloway shook his head. “I cannot, Chu-sa.”
At least he has enough gumption to say no to me.
“Very well.” Furious, Kosho overrode the comm channel from her console. A sharp close-up of the Prince appeared on her holo. He had aged a little since the last time she’d seen him. “Hello, Sayu, can I help you?”
“Yakka?” Xochitl grinned in a strained way. “Get me out of here!”
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Desperate to keep her heading and velocity, Kosho finessed the Naniwa around a spiral of filaments, and now the wreck of the Tlemitl was dead ahead. She aimed the battle-cruiser a quarter-point off, intending to slide directly over the shattered dreadnaught. “Did you ask me for help?”
“Yes,” the Prince hissed. “ Please, Yakka, slow down and pick us up. I’ve got a capsule full of men.”
“Do you?” Kosho kept her face impassive, throwing in a little shrug for good measure. “Sycophants, bodyguards, a concubine or two… just like in school, eh? I’m so sorry, Sayu, but Regulations are very clear-evac capsules are recovered after the battle is over.”
“Yakka!” A glint of real fear was in his eyes. The Prince licked his lips as he slumped back in his seat. “What do you want? If you’re going to tithe me, tell me how much! Give me a chance.”
“I’m not asking you for anything, Sayu. I’m just doing my duty.” She finally let the tiniest fraction of old, old anger leak through into her expression. “Sit tight, and we’ll be back for you after the-” Kosho stopped in midsentence. Behind the Prince, she suddenly caught sight of a familiar profile-sandy hair, a habitual hunch; the man’s attention was far away, working some problem on a console-in the second chair.
Helsdon.
The Prince’s eyes followed her gaze. “My engineer is reprogramming the sensor-suite here. To detect the weapon’s knives, but our equipment is not-”
“One moment.”
Susan closed the channel with a fierce, sharp motion. “Pilot, assume maneuvering on my mark-three-two-one. Hold current course for the next eighteen seconds.” She ignored Konev’s curious stare and whipped through the personnel manifests of the ships reported on station. Helsdon’s record popped up a moment later. She skipped through a lengthy entry detailing his assignment to the Calexico and his ordeal in the wreck. One of my old Cornuelles is in trouble. That, I will not have.
“Recovery crews, stand by,” Kosho announced abruptly. “All stations-we’re slowing to one-quarter speed. Damage control crews, stand by. Prepare for missile impacts! Socho Juarez-get down to the forward boat-bay with a medical crew and an honor guard. Now!”
A flurry of acknowledgments came back to her, settling on her shoulders and in her heart like evil crows. Relieved of having to fly the ship for a moment, Susan sank into her combat chair, her heart filled with great foreboding. If Naniwa is lost because of him-if even one of my men dies on his account-there will be no death evil enough for this cursed Prince.
Just forward of the command chair, Gretchen suddenly roused herself, straightening up as though from a deep sleep, and looked around, blearily aware of an immediate world of physical things she could touch and feel once more. Her whole body was buzzing, as though millions of tiny golden bees were dancing just beneath her skin. “We’re stopping?”