Del dived in and fired his pumped lasers at one of the Substantives, the closest. It squalled in fury and struck out at him with five or six of those awful clawed legs. “No effect,” he said. “Retuning—”
He tuned his lasers further into the blue, came back for another run, tried again. The Substantive lunged at him, just missing with more of those legs. Once again the lasers had no effect.
“Incorrect mapping,” Robin said, as her own Arbalest dived in. “Going to have to hack at this one, boys and girls. These things are resistant.”
“I thought they might have to be,” Maj said. “They probably have to cope with white blood cells and such to get their job done.”
“How were these things activated, Maj?” said Robin. “Net burst?”
“I think so.”
“Huh,” Robin said. “Well, if we can’t destroy them out-right, let’s try overriding them. They have to accept incoming communication. We may not be able to reprogram them — we don’t have the codes for it — but we can try overloading them—”
A moment’s pause. Then Robin came around hard and fired at another Substantive.
It stopped scooping up dust, listed over to one side, and began to drift.
“That’s it!” Del yelled. “Come on, guys!”
They went after the Substantives in earnest, hitting them one after another. One after another, they went down. But more and more of them came out of the Nebula. Maj started to worry, for her power conduits were beginning to complain. You could not run an Arbalest forever like this — you had to take it home and fuel it once in a while. And then there was the matter of—
“Uh-oh,” said Robin.
“What?” Maj said, looking all around her. It was a tone of voice she usually only heard from Robin when they were badly outnumbered.
“They’re moving again, Maj.”
She looked back, and felt like swearing. One of the Substantives that she had shot up with her returned cannons was indeed moving, struggling…coming back to life. Are we going to have to shoot all these things up again? We can’t! Our own power levels…
Nonetheless she turned around again, wondering how they were going to pull this out without having to go back to base and charge, then come back again. The damage to Laurent’s brain would only start all over again. And in the meantime, if the agents from his country should—
“Oh, dear me, no,” Del said.
That was not a tone of voice she cared to hear from Del, either. “What?”
“Black Arrows, guys,” said Del softly.
Maj looked up in momentary panic, which became more than momentary as she saw the black shapes with their red outlines streaking toward them — five of them. But what the—
She opened her mouth, closed it again. “They’re not real Arrows!” she said.
“What?”
“Look at how they’re moving!”
Del and Robin were quiet for a moment. Then Robin said, “They’re slow!”
“They’re from outside the game,” Maj said. “They’re the agents — the ones that activated the microps in Laurent!”
“And the poor dumb clucks aren’t running at multiple G’s,” Del crowed. “They don’t know how far the parameters of ships can be pushed in this game. They don’t know the rules!”
“Then let’s not show them right away,” Maj said. “If they think the normal rules of science obtain here…”
She could just hear the others grinning. “Maj, take point,” Del said, with great relish.
“You’re on,” she said, and reached with both arms into the fighting field, the “glove-box”-like force field which the pilot of an Arbalest fighter used to manipulate ship’s weapons.
The fight that followed was a sad one…for the Arrows.
Maj dived slowly in toward the first of their enemies, watched him react as best as he could…then threw her Arbalest around at 6 G’s and cobra’d, letting him pass her, shooting him up from behind. Elsewhere, Del and Robin were using similar tactics. Each took out one of the Arrows, then went for another.
Maj went for her second enemy vessel, diving close. She passed over the other, canopy to canopy, and got a glimpse of the pilot as she twisted away from the Arrow’s fire. A woman, she thought — blond, small. Her helmet hid her eyes, but not her mouth. She was smiling, a look of great enjoyment, and she dived up and around again toward Maj, firing—
I don’t like your looks, lady, Maj thought, and clenched her fists in the fighting field. The pumped lasers might have been little good against the Substantives, but they worked just fine against Black Arrows, as the Group had proved the other night. Maj’s lasers stitched out blinding from her Arbalest and carved a long line of light and hot metal down the side of the woman agent’s Arrow. The blond’s ship tumbled, but did not know how to handle it — turned, tried to limp away. Maj, though, was in no mood to let it go. She brought the Arbalest around in a turn so tight it would have broken the back of any lesser fighter, 6 G’s or better — the blood roared in her ears, but not as loud as her anger. This woman was one of the people who wanted to reduce Laurent’s brain to so much strawberry jam, one of the people who had made his young life so far hell, and would have done worse to him and the father for as much of their lives as they managed to hang on to after they were both dragged home.
Not a chance, lady, Maj thought. This was one of the people who had, even if only for a night, made her turn her home into a fortress and lock a guest up in the den. Who didn’t care who they hurt if it meant getting Laurent, and apparently dead or alive was good enough for this blond excuse for a human being.
Maj followed her hard, and turned, and turned again, and fired again. The Arrow fled, but Maj pursued — and the Arrow mis-twisted, and Maj found herself sitting, most serendipitously, right on its six.
She fired, and the Arrow blew itself to shreds. Wherever that agent was, in reality, she would not be bothering Laurent again for a little while, anyway. It took a while to get a new ship in this universe.
She rejoined the others. Robin was in the act of putting one last agent out of business, blowing his Arrow to smithereens at the end of a long lazy Immelmann turn that was pure insolence in space. A ragged cheer went up from them all at the end of that. But Maj looked with concern up into the cockpit mirror…and saw that Laurent had passed out.
“Trouble. We’ve got to knock those Substantives down again.”
“Can’t, Maj!” Robin said. “No power. Showing red.”
“We have to go back, Maj,” said Del.
“But we can’t!” Maj said.
“If we don’t,” Del said, “we are genuinely screwed—”
“But Laurent—!”
Then Maj caught the sudden movement. She swore softly and tumbled the Arbalest in y-axis.
And with no other warning, long slender arrows came lancing past and around them through the darkness of space. Not dark ones, though, not the Archon’s ships, but, beyond belief or hope, the white lances of the Cluster Rangers’ elite corps, the Pilum Squadrons, every one of them with an odd piece of nose art added — the Net Force insignia. The Pilums’ pulsecannon weaponry stitched all the space before them with white lines of irresistible fire, plastering the Substantives with pulsecannon bursts…and one after another the giant bugs went limp and still, not moving again.
“The codes have worked,” said one of the Pilum commanders. “I repeat, the codes work. Squadron, go in and clean them up!”