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"Not just yet. We're too fragile with the bay open. You know
damn well what they'll do when we're in range."
"They're doing it now. I saw missiles before I turned us."
"Yeah?" Intercept. Roy couldn't make himself feel surprised.
He's going to ram. He didn't even ask me.
The Shuttle main tank was a green-edged black shadow,
growing brighter. Big Mama had its own defenses. The main tank
must be boiling. And suddenly the main tank's black shadow
vanished in half a dozen simultaneous flares. Missiles were homing
on the explosions of other missiles. The Shuttle turned, and Roy
felt the solid thumps of fragments impacting the tile shielding.
There would be no reentry for Atlantis.
Jay reached down to move lever arms that protruded through
the floor. These were new: they connected to petcocks in the lower
level. Water that had been ice at takeoff was jetting from vents in
the Shuttle's nose. The cloud of debris ahead thickened with water
vapor.
It might hide Atlantis. . . but there was no hiding Big Mama.
Her drive flame must be visible across half the world. Jay was firing
the EMU motors, the smaller jets that connected to the Shuttle's
onboard tank.
"Still on intercept?"
"Yeah."
"Opening the bay. Let's get closer before we loose the birds. If
you did everything right--"
"They'll think we're dead." Jay laughed.
The gauge showed Harry's internal temperature at 39 degrees. I've
gained some. Not enough.
"Incoming. Hang on." Oh, shit. Michael shuddered.
"We took something, portside forward," Gillespie said.
"Losing steam pressure."
"She's getting sluggish. Doesn't want to maneuver."
"Something's wrong portside forward."
"Harry!"
"Yeah, Max, I'm on the way. "Jeff, let's do it." Progress was
slow. As they moved forward, the ship was hotter, and there was
more damage. Handholds were missing. New holes punched
through.
Some punch. Michael's armor was in layers: steel armor,
fiberglass matting, more steel armor, layer after layer of hard and
nonresilient soft. Anything coming through that had been moving
fast -- and hadn't melted.
Harry felt a tug. He looked behind. His air lines were stretched
taut. "End of the line."
"Max, we can't get further," Jeff Franklin reported.
"You have to. We're losing pressure just forward of you."
"Losing pressure."
"Yeah, the most powerful spacecraft ever built by man is going
to fail for lack of steam."
"Okay," Harry said. "I'll go have a look." He disconnected the
line, and now he was on canned air.
Big Mama was close, close. The drive flame, the dark cylinder at its
tip -- the sudden green flare, the firefly lights of missiles pouring
from four points along her flank. "Firing," said Roy.
"I'll wait."
"Good. Missiles one through five away. Getting target
acquisition for the next group. We've actually got a few minutes
don't we?"
"Say two minutes before the missiles get here ..."
"Missiles six through ten, away." The green light had dimmed.
Big Mama's lasers had found more interesting targets: Atlantis's
own missiles.
"--But we're heating up. Oh, fuck it. We won't be taking it
long. How you doing?"
"Target acquired, missiles eleven through fifteen away; that's
all of them. Turn us! Now!"
Motors popped on. Atlantis turned, belly toward Big Mama.
Roy opened the petcocks again. A cloud of water vapor might slow
a missile or confuse its poor brain. Something slammed them
against their seats. Again. "Reentry is going to be a problem," Jay
said, and laughed. "It isn't atmosphere you're--"
The Shuttle twisted: an explosion against one wing. Jay
brought them back with attitude jets.
"--thinking of entering. I wish I had a view."
Nothing showed beyond the window save stars and a hail of
green. The reentry shield was boiling under Big Mama's lasers. "Are
we still on target? I'd hate to miss after all this."
"Big Mama's a big target," Jay said. There didn't seem to be a
hell of a lot more to say.
The portside bow was chaos. Steam poured from broken pipe and
streamed through the ripped hull.
"Shut the damn steam off!" Harry shouted.
"Maneuvering. Stand by. Harry, if we cut the steam on port
side, I won't be able to maneuver."
"Incoming. Stand by."
Michael shuddered again.
Max Rohrs was holding his calm, but it sounded like he was
fighting to do it. "Steam pressure falling. We'll try to shunt to
secondary water sources."
What good will that do if we can't get the leak shut off. Harry
studied the situation. The compartment ahead was filled with steam
and wreckage. He could feel its heat radiating through his faceplate.
If I move real fast, I can just-- "Jeff, I'm going forward and close
that valve. Nine-alfa for the record."
Rohrs overrode Franklin's answer. "Don't, unless you can open
nine-bravo. We need that steam path."
Oh, holy shit! "Roger. Here I go."
He dove forward. The handholds were hot through his gloves.
The ship maneuvered, so that he wasn't quite in free-fall, but there
wasn't real gravity either. Ragged metal ends reached out to scrape
against the hard upper torso of his suit.
He reached the valve wheel. "Max?"
Nothing. "I don't think he can hear you," Jeff Franklin said.
"Harry, do you need help?"
"Not enough room in here for two. Tell Max I'm opening nine-
bravo now."
The big valve wheel didn't want to turn. There was nothing to
brace his feet against, and the valve wouldn't respond to
onehanded operation. Got to move slow. Careful. Think it through.
He placed his feet as carefully as an Alpiner on a granite wall. Finally
he had both braced, his left foot wedged into a wide crack in one
bulkhead.
"Turn, you mother! Got it! Now to close nine-alfa."
He didn't dare look at the temperature gauge on his wrist. The
valve wheel was all the way forward. Beyond it was a smooth-edged
hole four feet around. Stars shone through that.
Between him and the valve was a jet of steam.
"Jeff, make them stop acceleration for a moment. I have to
jump."
"Okay. Command, this is Franklin. Reddington needs things
stable for a minute."
Static in Harry's intercom. Then Franklin. "You can have two
minutes, exactly four minutes from now."
"Roger." If I can live four more minutes. He could hear each
heartbeat as a base drum in his head. Slow down. Calm. Relax ...
Relaxation made the pounding sound worse.
There were flashes out there, outside. Shadows flickered
through the hole in the hull.
Jeri. Melissa. They never found the bodies. Hell, here I come!
"Stand by, Harry. Ten seconds. Okay ... now."
Harry leaped across the gap. Steam played over him.
It was cooler on the other side. The black outside seemed to
suck heat away. "Got the valve. Turning it. It's turning -- shit! Have
to brace my feet."
"Harry, can they maneuver now?"
He sensed urgency in Franklin's voice. "All right."
"I'll relay warnings. Acceleration. Stand by."
WHAM
Left foot here. Right foot. Okay. Grip. Turn. Turn. His left foot
slipped. Sharp pain ran up his shin. A small plume of steam came
out at the ankle. Steam? That hot in my suit? He tried to brace his
foot again. The universe shrank to a sticking valve wheel. Behind
him the steam plume was tiny, nearly as small as the plume from
his suit.
"You got it, Harry, get the hell out of there!"
"Coming." Turn, you bastard. Turn. His foot hurt like hell.
Forward was the black of space, cool. If I wedge in that hole I can
get leverage. He moved forward. One quick look outside.
The Mother Ship was far ahead, still too far for details; but the
drive flame was a spear, not a dot. She had turned sideways.
Trying to dodge. To dodge one of the Shuttles. Harry could see the
familiar triangular silhouette limned against the flame, easing
forward, past the flame...
Flame burst from near the center of the cylinder. They
rammed, Harry thought, and they did it right. Big Mama's drive
flame veered, and suddenly there was a brighter streak in the
violet-white. Yellow and orange, and the wavering flame was veering
back into line, but down the violet-white spear ran a stream of
bonfire-colored flame.
"Jeff--"
"Yeah? Harry, get out of there!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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"Not just yet. We're too fragile with the bay open. You know
damn well what they'll do when we're in range."
"They're doing it now. I saw missiles before I turned us."
"Yeah?" Intercept. Roy couldn't make himself feel surprised.
He's going to ram. He didn't even ask me.
The Shuttle main tank was a green-edged black shadow,
growing brighter. Big Mama had its own defenses. The main tank
must be boiling. And suddenly the main tank's black shadow
vanished in half a dozen simultaneous flares. Missiles were homing
on the explosions of other missiles. The Shuttle turned, and Roy
felt the solid thumps of fragments impacting the tile shielding.
There would be no reentry for Atlantis.
Jay reached down to move lever arms that protruded through
the floor. These were new: they connected to petcocks in the lower
level. Water that had been ice at takeoff was jetting from vents in
the Shuttle's nose. The cloud of debris ahead thickened with water
vapor.
It might hide Atlantis. . . but there was no hiding Big Mama.
Her drive flame must be visible across half the world. Jay was firing
the EMU motors, the smaller jets that connected to the Shuttle's
onboard tank.
"Still on intercept?"
"Yeah."
"Opening the bay. Let's get closer before we loose the birds. If
you did everything right--"
"They'll think we're dead." Jay laughed.
The gauge showed Harry's internal temperature at 39 degrees. I've
gained some. Not enough.
"Incoming. Hang on." Oh, shit. Michael shuddered.
"We took something, portside forward," Gillespie said.
"Losing steam pressure."
"She's getting sluggish. Doesn't want to maneuver."
"Something's wrong portside forward."
"Harry!"
"Yeah, Max, I'm on the way. "Jeff, let's do it." Progress was
slow. As they moved forward, the ship was hotter, and there was
more damage. Handholds were missing. New holes punched
through.
Some punch. Michael's armor was in layers: steel armor,
fiberglass matting, more steel armor, layer after layer of hard and
nonresilient soft. Anything coming through that had been moving
fast -- and hadn't melted.
Harry felt a tug. He looked behind. His air lines were stretched
taut. "End of the line."
"Max, we can't get further," Jeff Franklin reported.
"You have to. We're losing pressure just forward of you."
"Losing pressure."
"Yeah, the most powerful spacecraft ever built by man is going
to fail for lack of steam."
"Okay," Harry said. "I'll go have a look." He disconnected the
line, and now he was on canned air.
Big Mama was close, close. The drive flame, the dark cylinder at its
tip -- the sudden green flare, the firefly lights of missiles pouring
from four points along her flank. "Firing," said Roy.
"I'll wait."
"Good. Missiles one through five away. Getting target
acquisition for the next group. We've actually got a few minutes
don't we?"
"Say two minutes before the missiles get here ..."
"Missiles six through ten, away." The green light had dimmed.
Big Mama's lasers had found more interesting targets: Atlantis's
own missiles.
"--But we're heating up. Oh, fuck it. We won't be taking it
long. How you doing?"
"Target acquired, missiles eleven through fifteen away; that's
all of them. Turn us! Now!"
Motors popped on. Atlantis turned, belly toward Big Mama.
Roy opened the petcocks again. A cloud of water vapor might slow
a missile or confuse its poor brain. Something slammed them
against their seats. Again. "Reentry is going to be a problem," Jay
said, and laughed. "It isn't atmosphere you're--"
The Shuttle twisted: an explosion against one wing. Jay
brought them back with attitude jets.
"--thinking of entering. I wish I had a view."
Nothing showed beyond the window save stars and a hail of
green. The reentry shield was boiling under Big Mama's lasers. "Are
we still on target? I'd hate to miss after all this."
"Big Mama's a big target," Jay said. There didn't seem to be a
hell of a lot more to say.
The portside bow was chaos. Steam poured from broken pipe and
streamed through the ripped hull.
"Shut the damn steam off!" Harry shouted.
"Maneuvering. Stand by. Harry, if we cut the steam on port
side, I won't be able to maneuver."
"Incoming. Stand by."
Michael shuddered again.
Max Rohrs was holding his calm, but it sounded like he was
fighting to do it. "Steam pressure falling. We'll try to shunt to
secondary water sources."
What good will that do if we can't get the leak shut off. Harry
studied the situation. The compartment ahead was filled with steam
and wreckage. He could feel its heat radiating through his faceplate.
If I move real fast, I can just-- "Jeff, I'm going forward and close
that valve. Nine-alfa for the record."
Rohrs overrode Franklin's answer. "Don't, unless you can open
nine-bravo. We need that steam path."
Oh, holy shit! "Roger. Here I go."
He dove forward. The handholds were hot through his gloves.
The ship maneuvered, so that he wasn't quite in free-fall, but there
wasn't real gravity either. Ragged metal ends reached out to scrape
against the hard upper torso of his suit.
He reached the valve wheel. "Max?"
Nothing. "I don't think he can hear you," Jeff Franklin said.
"Harry, do you need help?"
"Not enough room in here for two. Tell Max I'm opening nine-
bravo now."
The big valve wheel didn't want to turn. There was nothing to
brace his feet against, and the valve wouldn't respond to
onehanded operation. Got to move slow. Careful. Think it through.
He placed his feet as carefully as an Alpiner on a granite wall. Finally
he had both braced, his left foot wedged into a wide crack in one
bulkhead.
"Turn, you mother! Got it! Now to close nine-alfa."
He didn't dare look at the temperature gauge on his wrist. The
valve wheel was all the way forward. Beyond it was a smooth-edged
hole four feet around. Stars shone through that.
Between him and the valve was a jet of steam.
"Jeff, make them stop acceleration for a moment. I have to
jump."
"Okay. Command, this is Franklin. Reddington needs things
stable for a minute."
Static in Harry's intercom. Then Franklin. "You can have two
minutes, exactly four minutes from now."
"Roger." If I can live four more minutes. He could hear each
heartbeat as a base drum in his head. Slow down. Calm. Relax ...
Relaxation made the pounding sound worse.
There were flashes out there, outside. Shadows flickered
through the hole in the hull.
Jeri. Melissa. They never found the bodies. Hell, here I come!
"Stand by, Harry. Ten seconds. Okay ... now."
Harry leaped across the gap. Steam played over him.
It was cooler on the other side. The black outside seemed to
suck heat away. "Got the valve. Turning it. It's turning -- shit! Have
to brace my feet."
"Harry, can they maneuver now?"
He sensed urgency in Franklin's voice. "All right."
"I'll relay warnings. Acceleration. Stand by."
WHAM
Left foot here. Right foot. Okay. Grip. Turn. Turn. His left foot
slipped. Sharp pain ran up his shin. A small plume of steam came
out at the ankle. Steam? That hot in my suit? He tried to brace his
foot again. The universe shrank to a sticking valve wheel. Behind
him the steam plume was tiny, nearly as small as the plume from
his suit.
"You got it, Harry, get the hell out of there!"
"Coming." Turn, you bastard. Turn. His foot hurt like hell.
Forward was the black of space, cool. If I wedge in that hole I can
get leverage. He moved forward. One quick look outside.
The Mother Ship was far ahead, still too far for details; but the
drive flame was a spear, not a dot. She had turned sideways.
Trying to dodge. To dodge one of the Shuttles. Harry could see the
familiar triangular silhouette limned against the flame, easing
forward, past the flame...
Flame burst from near the center of the cylinder. They
rammed, Harry thought, and they did it right. Big Mama's drive
flame veered, and suddenly there was a brighter streak in the
violet-white. Yellow and orange, and the wavering flame was veering
back into line, but down the violet-white spear ran a stream of
bonfire-colored flame.
"Jeff--"
"Yeah? Harry, get out of there!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]