At the apex of the ship, perched on the nose, she undipped the large energy‑cannon she'd tucked there just before the Turd left Glaszerstrom Station to intercept the Rooan. “I need a window,” she said. [Working on it. These things are hard to nudge.] The Rooan to Bari's left began drifting upward, and Bari could make
out four small pinpoints of light moving toward them. In the distance was the faint blue glow of Outpost One. Deep in space behind that was the heart of Aurora itself, with its implacable, invincible warlord, who took everything he could see, and owned everything he could touch. She gritted her teeth, raised the cannon, and took aim at the closest of the incoming ships.
The first one will be the easiest, she told herself, and fired. The pinpoint of light flared for an instant and went out, as immediately the other three veered away. Now the hunt would begin; they'd be scanning the area, but the Turd, powered almost fully down, would be virtually invisible. Her Dzenni suit, far more sophisticated than anything found in human space, was a total insulator: she would not radiate heat, she would not absorb it. She would not be easy to find.
One of the remaining ships moved nearer, slowly edging up on the herd as if scanning for something on the far side of it. She checked the cannon's heat load — still only twelve percent, still cool enough — and then shouldered it again.
The second ship flashed and disintegrated.
“I don't see the other ships. Omi?”
[One is circling around the Rooan. I don't see the other.]
All of a sudden, around them, the Rooan began to shift and scatter, their light‑patterns now oscillating wildly.<1 believe he's trying to use the herd for cover while he looks for the source of the fire,>Turquoise said.
“That works for me,” Bari said. She turned around, then threw herself backward in a panic, flat onto the surface of the ship as a Rooan barreled overhead, nearly knocking her off the ship. Big mistake, Bari, she told herself. No matter how big they are, they aren't going to make any sound when they move. Pay more attention.
The passage of the creature had left a small gap, and she could just see the edges of the third ship behind them. She got the cannon up, took the shot, and missed. Swearing, she checked the heat load again‑a little over forty percent now, starting to get warm. The ship banked, disappeared behind a cluster of Rooan, and briefly reappeared farther up than she had expected. Ship's moving in an evasive pattern. “Can you see him?” she asked.
[No… yes. He's banked low again, circling around.]
“Thanks,” Bari said. She lined up the sights on a gap ahead, and smiled when the ship appeared. Another flash, and then there was just one.
Don't run home yet, she thought at it, I need you.
She ejected the power cartridge from the cannon and let go of both pieces, where they drifted along with the herd. The cartridge would cool off quickly in open space. Unencumbered, she looked around the herd to get a sense of their positions, stood up straight, and launched herself up and forward toward the bright yellow‑orange underside of the ancient Rooan who had nearly knocked her down moments ago. A quick squeeze of one hand sent enough thrust from her pack to carry her forward, and she reached the big creature and got a grip on its craggy, pitted underside, oscillating from yellow to orange and back again under her gloves. Two more jumps brought her forward.
“Where's my last fighter, Omi?”
[I still can't see it. Turquoise?]
<It's directly ahead. The herd is moving around it. You've almost caught up to him.>
If only Cardin knew how thoroughly his Rooan‑camouflage would be tested, she thought. The problem was, Cardin had only designed it to stand up to the scrutiny of dumb animals; as aggressive as Aurora's fighters were, “dumb” they were not.
She moved hand over hand along the side of her Rooan until she was up near the pointed front, then flipped her faceshield to infrared. Even then the enemy fighter wasn't immediately obvious. It was only as one of the Rooan directly ahead of her swung slightly out of line to avoid something that she spotted it. He's playing the same trick I am, shedding his heat load to avoid detection while looking for his enemy. If she wasn't wearing her Dzenni suit, she was sure she'd be lit up like a nova on his screens.
She had maybe a minute before he was close enough to the Turd to spot it for the fake it was. She smiled and reached into her pack. Not a problem.
As her Rooan ride neared the ship, she kicked off and tumbled, silently, across the intervening space as the Auroran unwittingly headed toward a rendezvous. Her timing was perfect; she reached out one hand and touched the side of the ship just aft of the pilot's view, a silhouette in faint light just visible inside. With her other hand she slapped an EMP mine onto the hull. Then she pushed off again, breaking physical contact with the fighter as the mine flashed once, twice, and the ship went truly dead.
The herd continued to move around her, the Turd slipping silently past along with them. She squeezed her fist and moved forward to where she could grab onto the dead fighter again. Taking the second mine out of her pack, she placed it next to the first. This one she didn't back away from, and she could feel the thrum even through the multilayered hull as the pressure‑wave grenade activated.
The airlock had to be operated manually, of course.
The pilot was floating unconscious near the inside door, an energy pistol dangling from one hand. He'd known someone was coming for him the moment the EMP mine went off. Her mag boots kept her upright as she cycled the lock closed behind her and took his gun. Slipping off his helmet — damn, he's young — she peeled back the collar of his uniform with its own, less intricate starburst embroidery and slapped a sleep patch on him as well. Then she dragged him to the back, found the single- occupant escape pod, stuffed him in, and melted the lock.
Climbing into the pilot's seat, she buckled herself down and rebooted the systems. As the helm tried to bring itself back to life, she tapped her suit mic. “I'm in,” she said. “How far behind am I?”
[You've almost dropped out behind the herd,] Omi replied. [I see three more ships on intercept from the outpost on max burn, about six minutes out.]
The helm was flashing a long, thin red line. Bari slipped on the pilot's helmet, then carefully ran her left forearm over the bar. For a long second she was afraid it wouldn't work, that the chip under her skin was too old or obsolete, but the bar flashed green at last even as the rest of the console came back online.
“The ship's mine. Light up the decoy can,” she said.
[Done,] he replied, just as a faint flare appeared on the screen of her own console, on the far side of the herd. From a distance, it would not be distinguishable from an imperfectly‑dampened engine signature. Close up, it wouldn't matter.
Four ships down, counting this one, she thought, and three more on the way. Outpost One had, by her best estimates, twenty‑six combat ships at the moment‑a recent border skirmish with Glaszerstrom had cost them three others. The remaining pilots would be off‑shift, but were probably now being roused and told to stand by. And at least half of those would be too drunk to fly. Or so she hoped. It was the largest of Aurora's outposts, a cornerstone of its defense.