Wild Bill brought the boat in low, with the outer lock door already open and came to a hover only a few strides away. Méarana and Bridget ban hustled Donovan inside and Wild Bill was pulling away even before the lock had closed.
“Close call,” said Méarana as they found seats in the cabin.
Wild Bill did not turn around. “Still is.”
The shuttle bucked and twisted as the pilot used the gravity impellers to hopscotch across the Prabhakaran’s hull. Franq sat in the copilot’s seat and the two able spacers were in the back. One of them, badly injured, lay across a bench while the other treated him.
“Watch it, Bill,” Franq said. “Those portals are opening.”
“That can’t be good,” Donovan muttered. Then he shook himself and looked around.
Méarana noticed, and said, “Fudir? Are ye back wi’ us?” And at the scarred man’s uncertain nod, threw her arms around his neck. He winced.
“Silky must have put us in some sort of overdrive. I’m weak as a kitten.” He looked around and saw Bridget ban and for a moment he did not speak. The red hair seemed lighter than when he had last known her, or the golden skin darker. “Billy?”
“Coagulated,” the Hound said. “What did you do, push your dazer right up against him? That’s a fool thing to try. The backlash of the umbra…”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time. That dazer was going to be pointed somewhere. I preferred him to me. We debated the issue some.”
The shuttle swerved suddenly. The deckhand—DeRoche—cursed.
“Something behind those portals. Weapons, I think,” Franq said. “I think we woke something up.”
“The Artificial Intelligence,” said Donovan.
“Father, if that Attendant was artificially intelligent, the concept has been quite oversold.”
“No, Lucia,” Donovan answered. “Peacharoo was no more intelligent than my little finger.” The which he held up in illustration. “But you do have to ask what was wiggling it.”
Lights in the craft flared and went dark. Wild Bill expressed his dissatisfaction with this and his hands danced in command. Emergency lighting returned. “Missed us,” he said. DeRoche, tending to his mate, muttered, “I’d hate to see a hit, then.”
“Barnsey’s bringing the BB to meet us,” the pilot announced. “Hangar deck is open to vacuum. Locking in—mark.”
“Is that wise?” Bridget ban wondered. “To bring a larger target into range?”
“Prabhakaran’s clock is malfing,” Donovan said. “It thinks it’s still activating the terraformation packages. When the clocks resets, it loops around and does it all over again.”
Wild Bill, having locked in on his landing target, turned in his seat. “That’s nice, Donovan. But how does that make her a poor shot?”
“Velocity is distance over time. If her timing is off, so is her estimate of velocity. Otherwise, she’d have hit us more than once by now.”
“Which means,” said Wild Bill, swinging back to his panel, “she could aim at our nose and hit our engines instead. Either way, we’re soup.”
“And if yon is the trade ship ye’ve spoken of,” said Bridget ban pointing to the forward viewscreens, “even a miss would still hit something.”
Donovan grunted. “I used to think the B and B was big.”
As the shuttle entered the hangar, Wild Bill put her down hard to the deck. The gravity snaps engaged and held her fast, killing her forward momentum. The hangar doors closed and air dumped in—and with the air came the sound of klaxons. Alfven warnings. The Blankets and Beads was preparing to grab space to yank itself away from Prabhakaran.
Donovan pushed the others aside to reach the air lock. Bridget ban called after him, “There is no place to run to this time, Fudir.” But the Terran popped the door, dropped to the deck, and ran to the intercom on the hangar wall, where he called the bridge.
Maggie B’s face showed. “What is it, Fresh?” Then she scowled. “You! Get off my horn. You’re not crew.”
“No, I’m your charter. When you yank space, turn about and head for Prabhakaran’s dead side. If you pull forward, she can still shoot you out of the sky.”
“Those little pop guns…”
“That is Commonwealth tech! You have not seen a tenth of what that ship can still do. The AI is awake now and thinks she’s defending herself against attack! The apertures on the damaged side are fused shut. It can’t fire from that quarter.”
The captain’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Every time you show up,” she said, “I run into trouble.”
“I’ve only shown up in your life twice.”
“Let’s not make it three.” She turned from the screen. “D.Z., right about on the alfvens. Engage at fifty. Full power. Five tugs.”
By then the others had joined him. Wrathrock was being carried aboard on a floater by the ship’s medico. Franq, Hallahan, and DeRoche had rushed off to their emergency stations. Bridget ban nodded at the now-blank intercom. “Smart advice,” she said. “I expect you are correct.”
“Apology accepted. Come on, let’s get to the control room.”
Méarana led the way and Bridget ban followed. Donovan brought up the rear. Halfway through the tube that connected the shuttle module with the control module, the alfven klaxon hooted a second time—the short-long, short-long warning that engagement was immanent.
They grabbed railings and stanchions, and for an instant the ship seemed to stretch like taffy along a skewed axis. Most captains did not engage alfvens this far down a sun’s gravity well. But Blankets and Beads carried survey-class alfvens and, against escape from the ship defense batteries of A. K. Prabhakaran, what did a few burnt-out capacitors matter?
Blankets and Beads skipped across the face of the Commonwealth ark in quantum jumps. Donovan entered the control room in time to see clusters of antennae on the derelict vessel twitch in unison, like grass flustered by a spring breeze.
And one of the cargo modules on the B and B exploded into vapor.
The ship lurched at the impact, her center of gravity suddenly relocated, her angular momentum abruptly changed. Ripper Collins, in the pilot’s saddle, cursed. D.Z. bellowed orders to damage control. “Was anyone in Cargo C? Was anyone in…? Ma’am! Automatic vacuum doors closed on all connecting tubes. No one lost. Princess Wennawa reports her party is shaken but unhurt.”
Wild Bill said, “Raising the dead side. Defensive batteries are falling below the ship’s horizon.”
A certain amount of tension drained out of the crew; but Bridget ban said, “We are only assuming that the defenses on this side were slagged.”
Maggie B. turned to look at her. “I’ll ask who the hell yuh are when I have time. Meanwhile, in my control room, yuh have the right to remain silent. Time for milk and cookies later. Full speed, Mister ad-Din, directly away from that adolescent fantasy.”
“Full speed, aye, ma’am.”
The captain settled back in her seat as D.Z. gave orders to DeRoche and Collins. Flint Rhem turned from his astrogation station. “Activity on the near side. I’m putting it on screen four”
Barnes leaned forward again. Missile port shutters and energy projector blisters, long fused shut, struggled to open. “Too close,” Barnes muttered. She slapped her comm. “Duckie! How long before those alfvens are recharged?…Not good. I’ll need a tug a mighty soon. I’ll take thirty percent when yuh can give it to me. Out. D.Z., how’s the helm?”