A howl from above split the air. Blair jerked to spot Maniac launching himself from atop the catwalk railing to plunge four meters down, colliding with the Marine guard holding the boy. All three slammed to the deck.
Maniac got his hands on the Marine's rifle, tore it free, then rolled up, alternating his aim between the guard and Aristee.
The boy whimpered and crawled a few meters away, then rose and scampered to Karista.
With a groan, the Marine sat up and slowly raised his palms. A black grin curled his lips as a trio of beeps resounded from the rear.
The three other guards had armed their rifles and now trained them on Maniac, who eyed the jarheads and said, "Guess we're all pretty good shots here. I'll take out the captain, you take me. You get your kill. But so do I."
A chill in Blair's neck announced the approach of something else, something that panned out as the flight deck shook under the first strike of Kilrathi cannons belting out rounds from long range.
"We don't have time for this little standoff," Aristee said.
"Mister, what is it, Marshall? You have a habit of getting yourself into no-win situations. Bravo. You've done it again."
"Captain," Blair called, stepping in front of Maniac. "I'll help you. I'm not that good at manipulating the fields yet, but I'll help."
"You bastard," Maniac shouted. "You Pilgrim bastard. I knew you'd sell out-just like your goddamned buddy. Now that I think about it, you've had the power to kill her all along."
"I'm not selling out," Blair snapped. "And killing her isn't going to stop this. The XO, the protur, McDaniel, or someone else would carry on."
"Then kill them all."
"Right. And have no one left to monitor the ship's systems or direct this battle. Forget it. The priority right now is staying alive." He softened his expression as he addressed the group. "Listen to me. All of you. What good are your laws if all they get you is dead? Aren't they supposed to enhance and give order to your lives? Your laws obviously don't apply here. Anybody who wants to live can join me. Pretty simple."
Wiping away his tears, the boy stepped cautiously toward Blair, then took up a position beside him. A middle-aged woman found a place beside the boy. Then a young man with shoulder-length black hair circled around and set a palm on the boy's shoulder.
"Blair, you can't do this," Karista said.
It hurt to face her. "I'm sorry."
Two more of the sixteen Pilgrims defected to his side.
"Hey, Karista? Maybe we should start our own team," Maniac said. "Looks like you, me, and the captain are the only ones loyal to our beliefs"-he turned a malicious gaze on Blair- "which are worth dying for."
Blair mirrored the look but clung to his silence.
Aristee brightened and turned to the group assembling behind Blair. "I'll have you escorted to the aft observation bubble. And if you want to believe in something right now, believe in your right to live."
"I'm going with them," Blair told Maniac. "My fighter's almost ready. Take it."
"No, I think Mr. Marshall will be heading to the brig," Aris-tee corrected.
"You think wrong." Maniac adjusted his grip on the rifle. "You need pilots."
She nodded. "Pilots who don't point weapons at their superiors. Pilots without plans for sabotage."
"Tried that. Failed. But I'll eventually bring you down. In the meantime, I need to be out there. I can't stay in that cell and wait to die. Can't do it. Won't." Maniac could not wait for her reply, either. He threw the rifle back to the Marine, then pounded off toward the runway.
The Marines trained their weapons on him and waited for Aristee's signal.
She stared at Maniac for a few seconds, wearing the inkling of a smile. "Let him go."
Blair crossed to Karista and grabbed her wrist. "Come with us," he whispered. "You don't have to help. Just come."
"I can't."
"Forget about her. Do this for me."
"I just…" She lowered her chin.
"Please."
As Blair stepped into the aft observation bubble, he felt a strong sense of deja vu. He knew he had never been to this part of the ship, and he slowly realized that the brilliant night sky seen through the Plexi reminded him of the sky over his uncle's farm on Nephele. The farm stood four hundred kilometers away from the nearest metroplex, thus the light pollution that too often robbed the stars of their luster had never been a problem there. He could easily pick our stars like Mylon, Tyr, Kurasawa, Gimle, and even K'n'Rek, part of the Kilrathi empire. Though the stars were somewhat different here, their clarity and brilliance suggested something innocent and untainted by humans. Sadly, they had come to shed blood across the heavens, and Karista's face registered that grim fact.
She had lied to the captain, had saved her life, but she wouldn't help. Of course Aristee could never be certain whether or not Karista actually engaged in the killing unless one of the others revealed that fact. Blair figured that if they survived the Kilrathi attack, Aristee would have Karista killed anyway. Every other Pilgrim in the group had agreed to help, and if they, too, decided to back out at the last minute, then the Kilrathi would surely take the ship. Blair considered reminding them of the consequences, but they knew the facts and had watched the old man die. He had to believe that they wouldn't change their minds.
They joined hands to form a circle that wasn't necessary or traditional but seemed to ease everyone's nerves. Karista's hand felt cold and clammy. He glanced at her a second, then at the middle-aged woman to his right who squeezed his hand tightly as their eyes met. "Thank you," she said softly. "I feel terrible about this, but you're right. We deserve to live."
He smiled tightly, then stared beyond the faces of those in front of him to the commencing battle. Laser bolts from the far-off destroyer and cruiser collected into twin conduits that riddled the supercruiser's aft shields. Like low-lying nimbus clouds auguring a storm, the Kilrathi fighters sprang ahead of the cap ships, following the bolts' fiery lanes. The eight squadrons of Rapiers that vectored toward them looked like a diminutive force of foolhardy or suicidal pilots. And only now did the first squadron of Broadsword bombers launch from the aft flight deck, their torpedoes hastily loaded, their damage inspections even more hastily completed. Blair tried to comfort himself with the reminder that although the Pilgrims were outnumbered, they were superior navigators. During the battle over McDaniel, Blair had witnessed some of the sharpest, most reactionary piloting he had ever seen. Maybe sheer numbers would actually work against the cats. Maybe.
Blair looked again to Karista. She stood there, biting her lower lip, eyes brimming with tears. He urged her on with his gaze, figuring she would at least tell the others what to do. She opened her mouth, and the words finally came out with sober resignation.
"People. This may hurt some of you as much as it hurts them. All I can say is try to remember that you're not alone. And you won't die. We'll come together as one and move swiftly, a thief in the night robbing of them their lives. It'll hurt a little more with each one. You'll feel the need to let go and wander off. Don't. Stay with your broturs and sosturs. Try to keep them warm. You'll know when it's over. Trust me. You'll know. Close your eyes."
Night turned into the familiar, mottled darkness within himself. The woman beside Blair released an involuntary whimper that sent a shudder through him. Others gasped or murmured their trepidation.
Yes, they were afraid-despite their experience with delving into the quantum level, with manipulating the fields, with thrusting themselves into the continuum, the universe. Blair's experience had been limited. Any more consideration of that would buckle his knees. No, he wasn't completely green. The others had never killed like this, either.