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your Pilgrim thing?"
"I don't know."
"Christopher?" Merlin cried, this time sounding more urgent.
"For God's sake, what is it?"
"I think we're going to "
Everyone fell forward.
" break free of the well."
Maniac howled in triumph.
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"Did we make it?" Karista asked.
"Not yet," answered Merlin. "First we have to "
"Take down the six bandits on our ass," Maniac finished. "Bearing
four-four-one by three-three-five. Didn't the old man tell 'em we
surrendered?" He rechecked the radar scope. "Great. Six more riding the rear."
"Get up to the ion gun," Blair said. "Merlin? See if you can get them on the
comm. And try to hail Commodore Taggart. Maybe he got out."
Even as Maniac threw off his straps and stood, neutron fire raked its way
from amidships to the bow, and Blair watched the shield level indicators drop
into the red.
"Well, I've hailed those Rapiers three times," Merlin reported. "No response.
And it's clear that every vessel that leaves theOlympus is a target. Our
registration and Confederation ID code lack validity since this ship might
have been captured by Pilgrims."
"Then contact the Tiger Claw . Get us an assist."
"Christopher, you're assuming these fighters aren't from the Claw ."
"Well, are they?"
"As a matter of fact they're from the Fosubius battle group. But I don't
think that makes a difference now."
"Just contact the Claw ."
With that, Blair seized the control wheel and drove it toward the console,
diving twenty, thirty, forty-five degrees as Maniac, up in the gunner's nest,
hurled back the first of their retaliatory volleys. Four of the Rapiers buzzed
overhead, their thrusters flickering as they looped back to begin another
strafe.
Blair knew the math, and the math sucked. The Diligent's maximum velocity
peaked out at one hundred and fifty KPS, while the Rapier pilots could propel
themselves up to three times as fast, and the fighters were, of course, more
maneuverable and better armed.
He suddenly remembered a line Paladin was fond of, a line from a story called
"The Open Boat," written six centuries ago by a fellow named Stephen Crane:
"When it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important, and
that she feels she would not maim the universe by disposing of him, he at
first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply the fact that
there are no bricks and no temples."
"Request denied, Commander. Your squadron will maintain position. You will
not engage. Gerald out." It's all about politics now , Angel thought.
Gerald couldn't order her to attack other Confederation fighters. Never mind
the fact that those pilots were killing Pilgrims trying to surrender. Never
mind the fact that those pilots had provoked the Pilgrims into battle. Never
mind the fact that Paladin and Blair could be on any one of those fleeing
ships&
"Got a Proxima Errant on my scope," Bishop reported. "Looks like the Diligent
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, Commander. She's under attack."
Sorry, Mr. Gerald. Court-martial me later . "We're out of here, ladies. Fluid
four to the Diligent . Break and attack on my mark, clearing zone and falling
in to escort positions."
"Uh, ma'am, are you asking us to fire upon Confederation pilots?" Cheddarboy
asked.
Bishop guffawed. "No, boy, she's askin' us out to lunch."
"Commodore Taggart may very well be aboard that merchantman," Angel told
Cheddarboy. "Those pilots don't seem to care about that."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Burn on my mark," she instructed. "Three, two, one. Burn!"
Hurled forward by full afterburners, Angel braced herself and skimmed each of
her displays. Gerald's wonderful mug snapped on the left VDU, which she
summarily snapped off, imagining his
you're-abandoning-your-post-and-if-you-do-not-return-blah-blah-blah rant that
meant absolutely nothing to her at the moment.
She led the other five pilots toward that merchantman, opening her mouth a
little as she saw it dive and fall under the relentless cannon fire of a dozen
trailing fighters. Someone manned the ion gun, swiveling in an abortive effort
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