Now, as she hovered with the rest of the squadron off the Claw's portside, she wondered if she could muster enough control to stand by and watch nearly five hundred Rapiers and a hundred Broadsword bombers-a combined force from the Claw and the Fosubius battle group-attack that lone supercruiser. Then again, maybe Gerald had done her squadron a favor. If the cruiser opened a gravity well, the battle over Lethe would repeat itself but on a much more devastating scale.
Dozens of thrusters speckled the night like sapphires and joined into necklaces that twisted back to the Fosubius and her escorts.
"Well, mates, there they go," Hunter said, transmitting on the squadron's general frequency. "And here we stay."
"Yeah," Bishop groaned. "Our first real shot at payback, and we're benched. Typical."
"At least we got good seats for the show," Gangsta said, her spirits only slightly higher than theirs.
"Hey, don't want to sound, well, scared, but I kinda like it where we are," Cheddarboy confessed. "Beats being flushed. You just know they'll open a well."
"Commander?" Hunter called. "Any idea why the captain held us back?"
Angel hesitated. "Ladies, it's my fault."
"Your fault?" Hunter asked. "You piss him off or what?"
"That's nice of you, Captain, but you know damned well why we're back here. You can't tell me you haven't heard the rumors about me and Lieutenant Blair."
"I, uh, didn't want to bring that up, ma'am."
"Well, there it is," Angel said.
"Maybe Gerald thinks we won't fight aggressively either, since one of our own might be on that ship," Bishop added.
"You people tolerate Mr. Blair, but you wouldn't disobey orders to save his life. Gerald knows that. But me? Maybe I would." Angel pressed her head into her seat and shut her eyes. "Maybe I would."
"What are you talking about?" Gangsta cried. "He pulled us out of that well over Lethe. We owe him. And if we get a chance to save him now, then we should."
"Hey, I need this job," Bishop said. "And holy shit, people! They're opening a well!"
The voice of the Olympus's NAVCOM AI resounded over the ship-wide intercom: "Attention. Attention. Jump interphase complete. Jump sequence engaged. Ship will reach Point of No Return Velocity in nine-point-zero-three minutes. All systems locked out. Ship is committed to the jump."
"Oh my god," Blair rasped, holding shaky aim on the commodore. "What have you done!"
"He's created the well," Maniac shouted from his seat on the deck. "You should've killed him!" With a shriek, Maniac jerked himself up and started for Paladin.
But a shot from the Marines glanced off the deck in front of Maniac, and he turned into a mannequin of himself, shifting just once to catch his balance.
Santyana swung his rifle toward the catwalk and sprayed the Marine who had fired. The jarhead staggered back as several rounds blasted off his armor. He dropped his rifle and collapsed.
Aristee's gaze swept across a bank of monitors, then something she saw there drained the confidence from her expression. She stared accusingly at Paladin. "A standard well? Five hundred meters? This won't…" She yanked the Pilgrim cross from her chain and fingered the center button. With a swish, the cross's long blade telescoped from its bottom. She drew back the cross, knife-end sticking from the bottom of her fist, and went for him. "You bastard!"
As Paladin raised an arm, the NAVCOM boomed again over a sudden squawking of alarms: "Warning. Error in second set jump coordinates. Suggest course correction immediately."
Aristee's blade came down on Paladin, but he deftly blocked her forearm with his own and seized the cross. "I've just opened a well that'll consume this ship."
"But I love you. We're paired. You told me you understood. You told me it was time to create a home."
"Warning. Error in second set jump coordinates," the NAVCOM droned on.
Aristee gianced to the drive control panel. "Input the coordinates. At least let us jump."
"I'm sorry." He threw her cross to the deck, shoved her back, then touched a comm control. "All hands, this is Brotur Taggart. I've just sent off an automatic message relaying our surrender. I suggest that all of you immediately abandon ship. We won't reach the gravity well's PNR for another eight minutes. That's all the time you have. I'll direct the NAVCOM to issue automatic clock reports." He paused, never looking more grim. "Save yourselves."
"They won't do it," Aristee said. "Not unless they hear it from me."
His hand shot out, locking her neck in the vice of his grip. "Then give the order."
"I won't. They pledged their lives to this rebellion. Now they'll make the sacrifice. And maybe that's our statement." He held her a moment more, then twisted away.
"Blair? Maniac? Mr. Santyana? Round up as many as you can and abandon ship."
"Finally an order that makes sense," Maniac grumbled, his palm still pressed firmly on his neck.
Aristee went to the main drive panel and stood there, once a woman who had gathered power and strength from the night, now a woman whose night had turned against her. For a second, Blair left himself and tried to touch her thoughts. Towers of fire and ice stood in his way. He did sense that she had no intention of leaving the ship, not only because she was its captain but because the well would embrace her in martyrdom.
Blair returned to himself and rushed up behind Paladin. "Sir?"
The commodore would not turn. "What is it?"
"Let's go."
"I'll meet you on the flight deck," he answered a little too quickly. "But here…" He removed his Pilgrim cross, then turned and proffered it to Blair. "In case I don't make it back."
"I can't."
Paladin tossed the cross, and Blair could not help but catch it. "You're my anchor, Mr. Blair."
"That why you took me along?"
"You've been pressing me about Pilgrim culture and history. So you got a look." He glanced to Karista, who had once more moved to brace Maniac. "And you met your pair. Now evacuate this area. That's an order." The commodore suddenly looked very old, very lost, sure of nothing.
Blair hoisted a painful salute and mumbled, "Aye-aye, sir."
"Looks like our Marine buddies know what's good for them," Santyana said, scanning the empty catwalk. "Maniac, can you move?"
"It's just a little hickey. Hurts like a mother, though. Let's throttle up."
After slipping Paladin's cross over his neck, Blair joined Santyana, Karista, and Maniac as they mounted the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Brotur Zimbaka scrutinizing them as he spoke with Aristee. Her gaze found Blair's for a second, then she regarded Zimbaka and shook her head.
"Our fighters are breaking off," Bishop noticed. "Can you say: What?"
If Angel had not heard the order herself, she would have had as much trouble believing it as the rest of her squadron. But Gerald had spoken the words himself, and Angel assumed that the Fosubius's skipper had done likewise. "Commodore Taggart just relayed a message of the Pilgrims' unconditional surrender. It's over, ladies," Angel muted her headset's mike and breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. At least Paladin had survived, and if he was looking out for Blair, then maybe, just maybe…
But did be wait for me? Probably not.
But you didn't want him to wait.
You lied.
It had been a long time since Angel had seen so many starfighters operating in a single Area of Operations, and it had been even longer since she had seen so many engage in a synchronous withdrawal. Rapiers by the dozens banked or wheeled or looped back, away from the undulating target of darkness off the supercruiser's bow. Bombing groups broke into lazy turns to streak across the moon's pale white brilliance. The cap ships themselves framed this spectacle; the Fosubius stood a kilometer off to starboard, with its escorts spread out like the buoys of a fishing net, and the Tiger Claw lay to port, her tubes ready to open for a little cap-to-cap combat.