“Movement!” Marlowe snapped. “Portside of the task force, maybe four hundred kilometers away.”
“They see it,” Kennedy added. “They’re altering course—blasting lateral to swing around toward it. Breaking formation… they’re going for it.”
“Give me some more power on this scope, Marlowe,” Roman ordered, straining to make out the form that was now definitely picking up speed toward the circling task force. “I can’t tell if that’s a shark or a space horse.”
“One second, Captain—these damned controls are twitchy.” The view shimmered, gave an eye-wrenching jerk, steadied and enlarged—
“Holy mother,” someone murmured.
Roman found his voice. “What’s the scale on that?”
“Measures out to almost twenty-six hundred meters,” Marlowe said grimly. “About thirty percent longer than the one we fought, with just over twice its volume.”
And if telekinetic strength indeed scaled with volume… Roman clamped down hard on the almost overpowering urge to send out a comm laser warning. A waste of time, or worse: Lekander would certainly know what his force was up against, and the last thing he needed was extra distractions. “Any sign of vultures?” he asked instead.
“Not that I can see,” Marlowe said. “Definitely no optical nets, anyway, at least not so far. Must recognize that they’re not space horses.”
“Or else the lack of telekinetic abilities leaves the vultures nothing to lock onto,”
Roman nodded. “Either way—”
“Got laser fire,” Marlowe cut in. “All three ships.”
Roman peered at the scope screen. The pale lines of ionized gas were just barely visible as they tracked along the shark’s surface. “Any idea what power they’re using?”
“Hard to say at this distance,” Marlowe said. “Though if they’re standard combat lasers—yowp; there goes the shark.”
The huge predator swerved violently as one of the beams raked up toward its forward end. The laser corrected; but even as it found its target again, a cloud seemed to detach itself from the shark’s body and flow forward. “There go the vultures,” Ferrol muttered under his breath.
“The lasers must have hit a sensory ring,” Kennedy said. “—Firing again.”
Again, the pale lines lanced out… but this time they stopped far short of their intended target, disappearing into the cloud that had coalesced in their path. “Is that the vultures doing that?” Roman asked Marlowe.
“Affirmative,” the other nodded. “Looks like they’ve got a screen of rocks set up, a sort of heavy-duty optical net. Though against military lasers—there; got a punchthrough.”
One of the pale lines had pierced the barrier, and once again the shark twitched away from its touch. But almost instantly the beam was cut off again. “They got the hole filled in,” Marlowe reported grimly. “Those sharks learn fast, don’t they?”
“It can’t keep that up forever, though,” Ferrol shook his head. “Eventually it’s got to run out of vultures.”
“Yeah, but maybe not before the ships get within grabbing range,” Marlowe pointed out. “If enough of that barrier is rock and not vulture, they may be able to hold it together long enough.”
A tiny flare sparked at the Jnana’s hull—“Missile away,” Kennedy identified it.
“Heading for the vultures. Make that two,” she amended as a second flicker appeared beside the Starseeker.
Roman frowned as the two flares swung into alignment, the second crowding the tail of the first. The lead missile reached the laser barrier—
“Missile breaking up,” Marlowe announced. “Must be a net missile; yes, there’s a glint from the filaments. Spreading around the vultures—damn.”
“What?” Roman snapped.
“Plasma discharge from the net,” Marlowe said, sounding stunned. “Absolutely massive. Must have had a thousand amps and at least that many volts on it.”
“That got the barrier open, all right,” Kennedy said. “Second missile going straight through the hole. Shark’s telekening it to the side—must think it’s another net missile—”
And an instant later the center of the screen went black as sunscreens kicked in.
“Sub-nuke explosion, Captain,” Marlowe said. “Shaped blast, about a twentymegaton rating, triggered approximately fifty kilometers out from the shark.”
Roman hissed between his teeth. Even at Amity’s distance… “Ferrol, call down to Tenzing’s people and have them put a real-time monitor on the radiation,” Roman ordered. “And have the Tampies watch for signs of stress in Sleipnir. We should be well clear of any trouble, but there’s no point in taking chances.”
“Yes, sir,” Ferrol said, and turned to his intercom. On the scope screen the black dot was shrinking and fading—
And the shark was still moving. Sluggish, but clearly alive.
Roman shook his head in wonderment… in wonderment, and with the first stirrings of real fear. Even at fifty kilometers away a blast that size should have delivered a thunderclap of heat and particle radiation directly into the shark’s surface and sensory clusters. If it could shrug off something that powerful—
“Missile away,” Kennedy announced into his thoughts; clenching his teeth, Roman shifted his attention back to the ships. A flare had appeared beside the Atlantis; and beside the Starseeker, and beside the Jnana, and beside the Atlantis again—“Correction: barrage away,” Kennedy amended. “Looks like they’re throwing everything they have at it.” The first missile flare erupted in a dim pinprick of light—
“They’ve gone to chemical warheads,” Marlowe said, sounding stunned.
“Must be trying to kill it without excessive damage,” Kennedy suggested.
“Probably figured the first sub-nuke had taken enough of the fight out of it.”
“Damn fool risky,” Marlowe muttered. “There it goes, though. Turning around and… wait a minute. What the hell—
The shark had veered ponderously away from the incoming missiles; but instead of turning a full 180 degrees and running, it preceded to trace out a convoluted path that seemed to be part helix, part spiral, and part random. Through it all the pinpricks of exploding warheads continued to flare across the middle of the display, looking for all the world like some strange space-going species of firefly.
And then, even as the task force launched a fresh barrage of missiles, the shark finally turned tail and fled.
“Only pulling about two gees,” Kennedy reported. “It’s hurt, all right.”
“Hurt, and gone crazy both,” Ferrol snorted gently. “What the hell was that, anyway?—the dying-swan version of a mating dance?”
“Or else an attempt at evasive maneuvers,” Marlowe offered. “It was still doing a fair job of telekening those missiles away from it the whole time, even though they were getting closer there at the end.”
“It’s slowing down,” Kennedy said, peering intently at her helm display.
“Acceleration dropping toward zero… make that at zero.”
Roman held his breath. Again the firefly flashes dotted the screen—
But this time, directly against the shark’s surface.
“They’ve got it,” Kennedy grunted. “—There go the lasers again.”
“Ion beams, too,” Marlowe reported. “And they’re getting through—the explosions must have scattered the vultures. God, those lasers are actually cutting into the shark’s hide. Cutting deep into it.”
Between the lasers, ion beams, and warheads the light show went on for another twenty minutes… and when it was finally over, there was no doubt whatsoever that the shark was dead.
Or, to be more precise, what was left of the shark was dead.
“Well,” Marlowe said to no one in particular, “that’ll certainly give them a head start on dissecting the thing.”
With an effort, Roman unclamped his jaw. “A head start, and then some.” He reached for the comm laser control, set for tracking. The indicator flashed—“Amity to Atlantis,” he called. “Come in, Atlantis.”
“Atlantis; Captain Lekander,” the reply came a few seconds later. “You enjoy the show, Amity?”