“Acknowledged. And . . . thanks.”
“I haven’t finished. Joshua’s down on Nyvan chasing after Mzu, we know that much.”
“Okay, he’s down there. Cherri, please don’t ask me why. I can’t discuss it.”
“That’s okay. I understand. It doesn’t matter; we know about the Alchemist, and you know we know. But you have to tell Joshua to back off, he must get away from Mzu. Right away. We know we can’t get her offplanet now our spaceplanes are gone. That means the Organization has only one option. If she’s dead, she’ll have to join us.”
“Is that why Urschel and Pinzola were shooting at the ground?”
“Yes. But that’s not all—”
The timid, halting voice echoed around Lady Macbeth ’s bridge. It sent something like cold electricity racing down Liol’s nerves. He turned his head to look at Sarha, who seemed equally stupefied.
“Is she for real?” he asked, praying the answer would be no. Events seemed to be pushing them towards an inevitable active response. Despite his outward bravado back on the station, he had distinctly mixed feelings about piloting Lady Mac under conditions any more adverse than their current ones—though a rogue part of his mind was determined that Sarha would never know that. Egotism was obviously the opposite trait of his intuition, the Calvert family’s Achilles heel.
“I knew her,” was all Sarha would say, and that reluctantly. “Beaulieu, can you confirm that ironberg’s trajectory?”
“I will have to use active sensor analysis to obtain its precise flight path.”
“Do it.”
“We’re thirty minutes from Joshua’s horizon,” Liol said. Alternative orbital trajectories were flashing through his mind as he datavised the flight computer for possible vectors.
“Nothing I can do about that,” Sarha said. “We can try calling him through the Tonala communications net.”
“The net: bollocks. You know there isn’t a working processor left on that planet after all this emp activity. I can drop us down; if we skim the atmosphere we can be above his horizon in eight minutes.”
“No! If we start changing our orbit we’ll be targeted.”
“There’s nothing left out there to target us. Access the sensors, damn you. The combat wasps are all spent.”
“They’ve deployed all their submunitions, you mean.”
“He’s my brother!”
“He’s my captain, and we can’t risk it.”
“Lady Mac can beat any poxy submunitions. Take fire control, I can pilot this manoeuvre.”
“Ironberg trajectory confirmed,” Beaulieu said. “Barnes was telling the truth. It’s heading straight at them.”
“Altitude?” Sarha asked. “Can we nuke it?”
“Ninety kilometres. That’s too deep into the ionosphere for the combat wasps. They can’t operate in that kind of pressure.”
“Shit!” Sarha groaned.
“Get positive, Sarha,” Liol demanded. “We have to get over Joshua’s horizon.”
“I’ve got lock-on,” Beaulieu said calmly. “Two nukes, active seeker heads. They acquired our radar emission.”
Sarha initiated the maser cannon targeting program without conscious thought. Her brain was churning with too much worry and indecision to actually think. Bright violet triangles zeroed the approaching submunitions.
“Would Josh leave one of us down there?” Liol asked.
“You piece of shit!” The masers fired, triggered by the heatlash in her mind. Both submunitions broke apart, their fusion drives dying.
“We can beat them,” Beaulieu said.
The imperturbability of the cosmonik’s synthetic voice chided Sarha. “Okay. I’ll handle fire control. Beaulieu, switch to active sensors, full suite; I want long-range warning of any incoming hostiles. Liol, take us down.”
They were hammering on the maintenance engineering deck’s hatch. Its edges had started to shine cherry-red, paint was blistering.
Cherri gave the circle of metal a jaded look. “All right, all right,” she mumbled. “I’ll make it easy all around. Besides, what would you lot ever know about fraternity?”
After the hatch’s locking mechanism melted away, an equally hot Oscar Kearn dived through the smouldering rim. Any hope of retribution died instantly as he saw the figure curled up and sobbing dejectedly in front of the console. The soul of Cherri Barnes had already vacated the flesh, retreating to the one place where he was never going to chase after her.
Monica finally felt as though she was regaining control of the mission. There were twelve operatives with her in the Disassembly Shed providing overwhelming firepower, and their evac craft was on the way. None of their processor blocks were working, nor their neural nanonics. Everyone had taken off their shell helmets so they could see; the sensors were glitched, too. The lack of protection made her nervous, but she could live with that. I’ve got Mzu!
She applied some pressure to the pistol barrel at the side of Calvert’s neck, and he moved aside obediently. One of the Edenists claimed his machine gun. He didn’t protest when he was made to stand with his three compatriots, all of them with their hands in the air and covered by a couple of operatives.
“Doctor, please take your hand away from that backpack,” Monica said. “And don’t try to datavise any activation codes.”
Alkad shrugged and held her hands up. “I can’t datavise anything anyway,” she said. “There are too many possessed in here.”
Monica signalled one of the operatives to retrieve Mzu’s backpack.
“You were in Tranquillity,” Alkad said. “And the Dorados too, if I’m not mistaken. Which agency?”
“ESA.”
“Ah. Yet some of your friends are obviously Edenists. How odd.”
“We both consider your removal from this planet to be of paramount importance, Doctor,” Samuel said. “However, you have my assurance you will not be harmed.”
“Of course,” Alkad told them equitably. “If I am, we all know who I’ll end up with.”
“Exactly.”
Gelai looked up. “They’re coming, Doctor.”
Monica frowned. “Who?”
“The possessed from the Organization,” Alkad told her. “They’re up in the shed’s framework somewhere.”
The operatives responded smoothly, scanning the metal lattice above them for any sign of movement. Monica stepped smartly over to Alkad’s side and grabbed her arm. “Okay, Doctor, we’ll take care of them, now let’s move.”