"Movement," said the computer. "Something’s happening."
The ovoid dance of the alien vessel changed its pattern, and its colors deepened. It glowed fiercely in the eternal dark, its tiny lights swirling. Luminous insects in the mouth of a cannon. It went on for several minutes.
"Psychology," I told the computer. "They’re playing mind games with us."
"I’m not sure what that means. But I detect a familiar metal shape within the configuration. Plasma missile launcher, probably. Eight tubes. This type weapon is intended for use against a relatively stationary target. High velocity projectile designed to penetrate thick armor, and burn out interior. Analysis indicates that only one of the tubes contains a weapon."
Hell. "What," I asked, barely able to speak, suddenly aware that I didn’t know how to put the shield up if I wanted to, "will be the effect on Corsarius?"
"How much energy to defensive screens?"
"None."
"Total destruction."
I thought about calling Chase, to warn her, to get her back. But I let it go. What the hell.
I could hear her banging around in the after section. A red lamp lit up on the status board. Outside hatch open.
"They’ve locked on," said the computer.
I squeezed my eyes shut and waited.
"Missile away."
In that final moment, what I thought about was that we had not fired a single shot in our own defense.
The thing blasted through our metal skin and set off a windstorm below decks. The klaxons let go again, and all the rest of the ship’s systems that warn of immediate and serious danger. But we were still alive!
"What the hell’s going on up there?" demanded Chase, with the mild echo that indicated she was inside a pressure suit.
"They just fired on us. You okay?"
"Yeah. You think maybe it’s time now to put up the shield?" She sounded shaky.
"Are you finished yet?"
"Almost. But maybe we ought to evict the dummies, and you and me get in there and clear out."
"Get back here quick," I said. "Computer, damage report. How come we’re still on the premises?"
"The missile did not detonate. I don’t know why, unless it was an empty shell. Impossible to be certain, since it passed completely through the ship."
"Where’d it hit?"
"The compartment directly below the bridge. We will require repairs on both bulkheads as soon as you can get a damage control crew down there. In the meantime, I’ve sealed the area off."
S’Kalian’s voice again: "Alex: there is still time." He held out his arms in a gesture of appeal.
"You are a son of a bitch," I said quietly.
"I admire your restraint, under the circumstances. Please understand: we can punch holes in your vessel, and I believe we can do it without damaging critical systems. Now, what further demonstration do you need of my concern for your welfare? Get out of there, while you can. Your death, and that of your, uh, woman, will accomplish nothing."
Chase opened the rear hatch and came in. "Ready to go," she whispered.
The computer broke the link with the enemy ship. "Captain," it said, "another missile has been loaded."
"If you’ve got an idea," said Chase, "this is the time."
"Computer, get the mute back."
S’Kalian’s image reappeared. "I hope you have made the wise decision," he said.
"I don’t think you’re going to like it much." I paused for effect, and tried to look moderately demented. "I’m going to arm one of the nukes and I’m going to sit here and blow the Corsarius to hell."
"I don’t believe you."
"Believe what you want."
"I’ve seen your psyche, Alex. In a sense, I’ve been you. You don’t believe strongly enough in anything to commit such an act. Your will to survive is very strong—"
I shut him off. "That’s it," I told the computer. "I don’t want to receive any more transmissions from the other ship. Nothing. Refuse everything."
"It’s useless," said Chase. "What are you trying to do? They don’t believe you. They’ll be looking for a trick." Her eyes widened. "Hey, you weren’t by any chance serious, were you? I have no interest whatever in going up in a fireball."
"No. Of course not. And they won’t believe it either. That’s what I’m counting on. Stay by the scattershot. In six minutes, we’re going to send the capsule for a ride. Shortly after that their shield should come down. You’ll get green lights on the status board. Then pull the trigger. Aim into the center somewhere, and fire everything we’ve got." I began counting off the time.
"What if the shields don’t come down?"
"Then we’ll have to think of something else."
"I’m happy to know we have a plan."
"Are you ready to launch the capsule?"
"Yes," she said. We waited. The minutes ticked off.
"I want it moving away from the alien. It should be on a course back toward the planet."
She frowned, understood, and smiled. "They won’t buy it," she said. "We’re too far away from the planet now. They’ll know we couldn’t make it."
"Do it," I said. "Now."
She pressed a stud on the console. "Capsule away."
"They won’t know," I said. "They probably don’t know a damned thing about its capabilities. And if they do know, they’ll assume we don’t. The only thing they’re going to be thinking about is the two of us trying to cut and run. And the nuke that’s ticking away in here. Tricky humans."
She put the capsule on one of the monitors, and we waited. It looked good: two people in pressure suits, one bent over the controls. "You look drunk," Chase said.
"It’s okay. It’s good enough to fool them."
She agreed. "And I wish I were on it."
"No, you don’t. We’re going to come through this okay. Try to maneuver it in the shadow of the ship. We want it to look as though we’re trying to keep out of sight. But make sure they can see it."
"Right," she said uncertainly.
"Enemy missile is locked on the bridge," said the computer.
"I hope this thing has enough of a charge to take them out." She looked doubtful.
"Be ready," I said. "We’re only going to get a couple of seconds. As soon as the green lamps go out—"
"Captain," said the computer, "the enemy ship is signaling again."
"Don’t respond. Tell me when it stops."
"They should be able to see the capsule now, Alex."
"Okay. Any time now. It’ll happen quick."
"Captain, the signal from the mute has broken off."
"Alex, are you sure this is going to work?"
"Of course not."
We watched the consoles, the green lamps, waiting.
"Activity in one of the ovoids," said the computer. We got several simultaneous views on the screens, in close. A portal had opened, and the silver prow of a launch vehicle was visible. It looked armored.
"Here we go," I said. "It’s the bomb disposal unit."
Chase heaved a sigh of relief. "They’ve got guts."
The lamps flickered and died. "Their shields are down."
Chase pulled the trigger.
We bucked and rolled, and a deep-throated roar shook the bulkheads.
I stabbed at a row of keys, and our own shield activated.
Blinding light spilled through the ports; the screens blanked out. Chase was pitched out of her chair, but held the firing stud down. Course correction jets fired.
Something hammered us. The ship shook, and the lights dipped.
"Proton burst," announced the computer. "Shields holding." One of the monitors came back and we were looking again at the mute ship: its lights flared and swirled in a frenzy. Patches of darkness appeared among them and expanded. The oscillations abruptly collapsed and broke apart. A few fireballs erupted and died in showers of sparks. When it was over, there remained only a blackened network of spheres and tubing.