Текст книги "Reap the Whirlwind"

Автор книги: David Mack

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

8

A choir of cacophony. Too many voices clamoring to set the tone. To the Apostate it was beneath contempt. He seethed with resentment that his placid aeons of silent reflection had been stolen for this manic chaos. Saying nothing, he held himself at a remove from the din of the Shedai Colloquium.

The hour has come, declared the Maker. Earlier than we expected, we must reclaim what is ours. Thunder punctuated her call to action. The atmosphere of the First World churned around the Colloquium, hurling forks of lightning and deluges of rain upon the convocation.

The Wanderer shared ephemeral visions of her battles with two different kinds of Telinaruul, one ending in defeat, the other in the calculated sacrifice of a treasured world. The Telinaruul grew strong while we slept, she cautioned. No longer confined to their planets, they harness subtle fires and traverse the stars. They are dangerous. Images etched in strokes of lightning depicted a shattered Conduit on a smoldering orb. The work of the Kollotaan, explained the Wanderer. They have grown more defiant, more difficult to yoke—but also stronger and more focused. We must subdue them. Properly dominated, they will serve us well. The reach of the Conduits will grow tenfold.

Thousands of swelling pulses of agreement outnumbered the few rumbles of discontent—all of which, the Apostate noted, came from his partisans. Though the Apostate believed the Wanderer’s grandiose vision to be hopeless, he kept his own counsel as the Warden injected himself into the gathering’s discussion. In numbers the Telinaruul hold an advantage, counseled the defender of the Shedai. If we are to subdue them, we must avoid a war of attrition. Overwhelming force is our best option.

Burning with fires older than the First World itself, the Avenger added her opinion. One demonstration will not be enough, she insisted. If the Telinaruul are as powerful as the Wanderer claims, they will need to feel our wrath many times before they learn to obey.

Our strength is not yet equal to such a task, warned the Maker. To challenge the Telinaruul with sufficient authority we must be prepared to marshal the entirety of our power. It is time to rekindle our Conduits and seed them with the Kollotaan.

Assent coursed through the Colloquium, burying the minority of dissident voices consigned to its periphery. The Herald sounded a cautionary note: The Kollotaan will resist.

Those who do will be destroyed, replied the Maker. Those who remain will echo our voice—and help us teach the Telinaruul to fear a new master.

Part Two

The Bright Face

of Danger

9

“Dropping out of warp in thirty seconds,” reported Lieutenant zh’Firro. The Andorian pilot checked her readings. “We will slow to sublight approximately one hundred million kilometers from the fourth planet.”

“Very good,” said Captain Nassir. “Bridy Mac, get ready to power up those new mods.” Throwing a sardonic glare in Xiong’s direction, he added, “And let’s hope they work.”

The second officer nodded from the tactical station on Nassir’s left. “Aye, sir.” She started flipping switches and bringing the new stealth systems online. Nassir had listened to Xiong explaining to Bridy Mac that the new screens were like a dampening field for Shedai sensor frequencies. It all had sounded very reassuring until the young lieutenant admitted that the technology had never been tested in the field.

Not until now, Nassir thought, grinning at his own gallows humor. “Theriault, can you get a reading on that Tholian ship?”

“I think so,” she responded. Her attention was focused into the blue glow from her sensor hood. “Main power is online….No sign of damage.” She recoiled slightly from the hood, adjusted her controls, and looked again at the sensor display. “No life signs, sir. It’s a derelict.”

Nassir glanced at Commander Terrell, who stood to the right of the captain’s chair. The first officer affected a dubious expression. “Interesting,” he said to Nassir.

“Exactly the word I’d choose,” Nassir said with gentle sarcasm. “Where do you think they are? On the planet?”

Terrell shrugged. “Not exactly their kind of environment.” In an ominous tone he added, “For all we know, they’re still on their ship.” Nassir took his XO’s meaning clearly: Maybe the Tholians are dead. He looked left to Xiong. “Your opinion?”

Xiong peered at the main viewscreen, where the slow pull of starlight retracted into the placid vista of a starfield. “Hard to say, sir. Tholians have environment suits that could let them explore the surface, but it doesn’t make sense that they’d send the entire crew. But seeing as their ship hasn’t been fired upon, it’s possible they’re here as guests—which could mean that their hosts have prepared a habitat for them on the surface.”

“Optimism,” Nassir said. “How refreshing. Either way, this simplifies a few things. At least now we don’t need their permission to make orbit.” He leaned forward. “Sayna,” he said, addressing the helm officer by her preferred nickname. “Take us in, full impulse.”

Entering the commands, zh’Firro replied, “Full impulse, aye. Estimating twenty-one minutes to orbit.”

He craned his head to look past Terrell, toward the science station. “Theriault, keep one eye on the planet and one on the Tholian ship. If either one makes so much as a blip—”

“Send up a red flag,” Theriault cut in, knowing his orders by rote. “Aye, sir.”

The captain swiveled his chair toward tactical. “Bridy Mac, arm phasers, just in case.” McLellan acknowledged the order with a nod. Nassir turned back toward the main viewer and sighed with amazement. “I still can’t get over how damned odd this system’s orbital mechanics are,” he said. “What kind of technology would it take to manipulate a solar system like this?”

Theriault looked up from the science station. There was a note of concern in her voice. “Actually, sir, I don’t think this system was manipulated at all.”

Nassir couldn’t contain his look of surprise. “You don’t think this aberration happened naturally, do you?”

“No, sir,” said Theriault. “What I mean is, maybe someone made this system like this from the beginning.” With a tilt of her head toward the main viewer, she said, “Permission to put my data onscreen, sir?”

“Granted,” Nassir said. As a low aside to Terrell, he added, “This ought to be interesting.”

“Exactly the word I’d choose,” Terrell joked, parroting the captain’s earlier retort.

A computer-generated image of the Jinoteur system appeared on the main viewer. “In most star systems,” Theriault said, “there’s at least a small degree of variation in the apparent geological ages of the various planetary bodies. Gas giants form quickly, terrestrial planets more slowly, and so on. In this part of the galaxy, a Class F main sequence star like Jinoteur would be about four billion years old. So its planets ought to be anywhere from four billion to three-point-five billion years old. But they’re not.” She switched the image to a series of side-by-side graphs. “Every planet and satellite in this system is approximately half a million years old.”

That caught the attention of everyone on the bridge. McLellan turned from the tactical station, zh’Firro looked up from the helm, and Nassir, Terrell, and Xiong all lifted their eyebrows in wonder. Xiong found his voice first. “Half a million years? With a thriving M-class ecosystem on the fourth planet? How’s that even possible?”

The redhead held out her empty hands and said, “I just found the what and the when, sir. The who, how, and why are gonna take a little bit longer.”

“Good job, Ensign,” Nassir said. “Keep working on it, and let me know what you find.” The captain looked at Xiong and Terrell. “Now, call me nosy, but I’d like to have a look inside that Tholian cruiser.”

Xiong smiled. “So would I, sir. I studied Tholian physiology at the academy, and I visited their habitat on Vanguard after they recalled their diplomats—but I’ve never had a chance to see an environment of their own making.”

“Sounds like we have a volunteer,” Terrell said to Nassir.

With an approving grin, Nassir replied, “It certainly does.” He added to Xiong, “I hear it can get pretty hot in one of those ships.”

“Yes, sir,” Xiong said. “The pressure’s pretty intense, too. I’ll need a heavy-duty environment suit, or else I won’t be able to move once I’m there.”

Terrell said, “Let’s head up to the top deck and see the master chief. I’m sure he can rig you something for the job.”

Nassir nodded his approval. As the two men left the bridge, the captain focused his attention on the main viewer, which was still packed with Theriault’s surprising findings about the planets of the Jinoteur system. The Shedai made an entire star system from scratch, and we think we’re smart enough to play with their toys? Doubt deepened the creases of his brow. I hope we know what we’re doing out here.

Xiong had been standing on the transporter pad for nearly twenty minutes while Ilucci, Threx, and Cahow constructed his heavy-duty EVA suit around him from the boots up. Most of the labor had been devoted to installing a set of amplifying servomotors that would enable Xiong to move freely in the crushing pressure of the Tholian ship’s interior, and they had integrated a tricorder into the suit itself, to record all critical data of his visit. Just as they began securing his helmet and visor, the captain’s voice filtered down from the ceiling speaker. “We’re entering orbit, Ming,” Nassir said. “Are you about ready?”

Ilucci gave Xiong a thumbs-up. Xiong answered, “Yes, sir. As soon as I get my helmet on, I’m good to go.”

“All right, then,” Nassir said. “Clark, Bridy Mac’s relaying safe transport coordinates to you now.”

“Understood, sir,” Terrell said, moving behind the transport console. To the engineers he said, “Okay, suit him up. It’s time.” His hands moved quickly over the transporter controls as he powered up the system. “Coordinates locked in.”

Cahow and Threx stood on either side of Xiong and lowered the bulky headpiece of the suit into place. While they verified its built-in audiovisual uplink, Ilucci paced around them, giving orders like an artisan overseeing apprentices. With the helmet on, their voices sounded deeply muffled. The only sounds Xiong could hear clearly were the harsh tides of his own breathing and the quickening beat of his heart.

A short, low crackle inside the helmet preceded the activation of its comm circuit. Through his broad faceplate he saw Terrell speaking to him, but he heard his thinly reproduced voice inside the helmet. “Ilucci says you’re all set.” He smiled with warm humor. “Still sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life to do this,” Xiong said. “Energize when ready, sir.”

Terrell said, “We’ll leave your channel open. If you get in any trouble, just holler, and I’ll beam you back.”

“Will do,” Xiong replied as the engineers cleared the transporter pad and turned to watch his departure.

“Good luck,” said Terrell.

As Terrell gently pushed the sliders that engaged the dematerialization sequence, Ilucci quipped loudly enough for Xiong to hear, “I’ll keep the bunk warm for ya.”

A blizzard of dreamlike whiteness filled Xiong’s vision, and when it cleared he stood in a deep golden haze.

The interior of the Tholian ship shimmered in the searing heat and intense pressure. Xiong tried taking a step forward and found the resistance disorienting. An attempt to lift his arm and control its movement side-to-side resulted in several seconds of clumsy flailing. Even simple locomotion promised to be profoundly awkward.

“Xiong to Sagittarius,” he said, hoping that the open channel was working. “Do you read me?”

Terrell’s reply sounded scratchy and distant. “Loud and clear,” he said. “Everything okay over there?”

“So far,” Xiong said. He regrouped and focused on standing still. “Acclimating is a bit harder than I expected. The habitat on Vanguard wasn’t this hot—or this dense.” Bending and turning slowly from the waist, he took in his surroundings. To either side of him a long, broad corridor curved away out of sight.

The passageway’s overhead was high above him, arched and ribbed, as if the interior of the ship had been organically grown; it looked almost mismatched with the vessel’s rigidly, trisymmetrically angular exterior. Every surface he could see—decks, bulkheads, portals—appeared to be composed of the same smooth volcanic glass. “Is the visual coming through okay?”

“It’s a little choppy,” Terrell replied, “but we get the idea. If you head to your left, that should take you toward their command center.”

“Copy that.” In careful, halting steps he worked his way toward the forward section of the vessel. Periodically he found crystalline formations protruding from the bulkheads. Their smooth, sheared-off surfaces danced with light from within. The structures bore an uncanny resemblance to the control panel that Xiong had seen the Shedai warrior use in the underground facility on Erilon several weeks earlier.

Everything about this looks familiar, he realized. From the techno-organic nature of the environment to its nearly uniform composition of metallicized obsidian, it reminded him of the massive artifacts on Ravanar and Erilon: black, insectile, and intrinsically frightening. Every biomechanoid-looking interface strengthened his conviction that whatever the Shedai turned out to be, their link to the Tholians was fundamental and ancient.

Moving through the superheated soup was getting easier. His motions took on a fluid, flowing quality. He didn’t walk through the ship so much as he floated through it, riding its thick currents of rising warmth from one crest to the next. A wide, shallow arch in the bulkhead on his right led into a vast open space in the heart of the ship. “Sagittarius, I’m taking a detour to check this out.”

“By all means,” came Terrell’s bemused reply.

Xiong stepped through the gap onto a broad walkway, careful to mind his step because the catwalk had no safety railing. The concave ceiling was close and gleaming with reflected crimson light from below. On the other side of the wide-open compartment, another walkway stretched along the starboard bulkhead. Both looked down upon a massive energy-generation complex. Its systems throbbed heartily. “Can’t make out what kind of stardrive they’re using,” Xiong said. “The power source is matter-antimatter, but that’s no warp drive.”

Ilucci’s voice chimed in on the comm inside his helmet. “Good eye,” said the master chief. “Can you see a safe way down to the main engineering deck? I’d love a closer look at that.”

“Feel free to put on a suit and come join me,” Xiong said.

A grim chortle mixed with the static. “No, thanks,” Ilucci said. “I know some like it hot, but I ain’t one of ’em.”

After taking a long look around the compartment, Xiong was stumped about how the Tholians accessed the lower level. “I can’t see any way down from here,” he reported. “I’m moving on toward the command deck.”

“Copy that,” Terrell said. “Take your time. Check out anything of interest along the way.”

Half swimming, half walking back through the main passage, Xiong replied, “That’s what I’m here for.” Arriving at a Y-shaped intersection where a central passage split to port and starboard, Xiong sidestepped around a third branch of the passage that descended on a steep slope into the belly of the ship. “I think I might have a way to reach the lower deck after all, Master Chief. I’ll check it out on the way back.”

“Thanks, Ming,” Ilucci said.

The main corridor ahead of him stretched away to a point obscured by heat shimmer. “Damn, this ship is big,” Xiong muttered as he bounced and bobbed through the gelatinous atmosphere. Sweat beaded heavily on his forehead, and he felt perspiration travel crooked paths down his spine. “Master Chief, I think the heat exchangers on this suit of yours need a little more work. I feel like I’m getting slow-roasted.”

Ilucci replied, “What’d you expect? It’s over 200 degrees Celsius in there. If it weren’t for me, you’d be a casserole by now.”

“I’m just saying it’s a bit warmer than you said it’d be.”

In the background of the comm channel, Threx grumbled, “I told him he oughtta strip down before we put the suit on him.”

Xiong rolled his eyes even though no one was there to see it. “Thanks, Threx, but a few of us come from cultures that still have nudity taboos, especially in front of members of the opposite sex.”

“You didn’t have to be modest on my account,” Cahow teased.

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of your body,” Threx said. “But then, I’m not the one sweating like a plorgha inside a Tholian battleship.” Mixed laughter warbled over the comm.

Meter after meter of the black-glass corridor passed by as Xiong worked his way forward. The main deck split into two upward slopes, which rejoined at the apex of an angled, oval-shaped opening for a downward passage. Tactical scans of Tholian ships encountered in recent years suggested the command deck was at the terminus of the upward slope.

Something at the end of the lower passage, however, caught Xiong’s eye. He started toward it.

Terrell’s inquiry conveyed confusion. “Uh, Ming? Isn’t the command deck on the upper—”

“I have to see something,” Xiong said. “Give me a minute.”

“All right,” Terrell said. “It’s your show.”

The deeper Ming descended, the darker the passage became, until the only illumination came from the compartment at its end. A ruddy glow bled from it into the thick, shimmering air. Bladelike protrusions of obsidian filled the center of the compartment. The closer he approached, the more familiar the shapes became. Then he emerged from the passage into the lower forward compartment and marveled at the biomechanoid device that dominated the cavernous space.

Two fearsome shapes, dark and symmetrical. Like the clawed, half-opened hands of a giant, one reached up from the deck, the other was suspended from the overhead. Each was the other’s mirror image. Rising from the deck along the bulkheads were three arches, spaced at 120-degree intervals. They were broad at their bases and narrowed as they curved upward to meet at the top half of the device.

Xiong stared agape at the device, which pulsed with ruby hues of power. It was a miniaturized replica of the artifacts found on Erilon and Ravanar. “Commander Terrell?”

After a few seconds, he received a stunned reply. “Yes?”

“Please tell me you’re seeing this.”

“Oh, we’re seeing it, all right,” Terrell said. “We’re just not believing it.”

“Believe it,” Xiong said, swelling with the pride of true accomplishment. He was about to say something more, something congratulatory to his comrades aboard the Sagittarius…then a roar of static disrupted the comm channel.

Xiong scrambled to boost the gain on his transceiver to cut through the noise. Seconds later, one sound from the Sagittarius came through—loud, clear, and unmistakable.

Explosions.

Claret waves of indignation propagated through the Colloquium. Signals in orbit, reported the Shedai Warden. Telinaruul have boarded the Kollotaan spacecraft.

Suspicion and recrimination resonated in the Adjudicator’s query: How did they breach our defenses?

A dampening field, answered the Wanderer. Like the one that wounded me, but more sophisticated.

The Telinaruul learn quickly, observed the Sage.

Unity without hesitation from the legions of the Nameless: Destroy them. Their pronouncement was seconded by the Avenger, who advised the Maker, The trespassers must be exterminated.

The Maker channeled hundreds of disparate wills through the focal node of the First Conduit. The collective power of the Shedai was being marshaled and directed skyward. Spectral light shimmered inside the Conduit’s core, and the Kollotaan screeched in agony as the dark fires surged in response to Shedai fury.

At the threshold of unleashing their reprisal, one word brought the Colloquium to a stunned halt.

Hold, commanded the Apostate.

Cold anxiety rippled through the Apostate’s partisans, all of whom were counted among the ranks of the Serrataal, the Enumerated Ones. The Myrmidon drifted closer to the Apostate’s side in a display of solidarity, and he was followed quickly by the Thaumaturge.

The Maker swelled, expanding her bearing to majestic proportions, and lorded over the Apostate, who found her old tricks less than impressive. Explain yourself, she commanded.

Attacking the Telinaruul serves no purpose, argued the Apostate. Destroy one ship, and many more will follow. Their numbers will only increase.

We will bring them to heel soon enough, countered the Avenger. Once we have mastered them, none will dare attempt our sanctum again. Telinaruul respond best to fear. You know this.

I know that you believe it, the Apostate retorted. And that you lack the wisdom to craft a new strategy. To the Nameless he continued, The Telinaruul have changed. We must change as well.

Protests fused into a wall of angry noise. The Apostate paid no heed to the dismay of the Nameless, but the anger of the Serrataal was equally vigorous. We do not change, insisted the Maker. We are Shedai.

The Apostate projected his dissent with conviction. What if the Telinaruul can be engaged without conflict? Reasoned with?

Countless voices scoffed at his suggestion. The Wanderer retorted venomously, One does not “reason” with beasts. They have trespassed in our domain and must suffer correction.

The Apostate wheeled in a cloud of fury upon the Wanderer. She recoiled in fear as his voice trembled the Colloquium. We gave up our domain for the peace of oblivion aeons ago. All these stars we abandoned, all these worlds we forsook.

Nothing was surrendered, the Maker declared. The seeds of our new genesis were planted. Our slumber was earned; now it has been disturbed by the petty ambitions of the ephemeral.

Bitter sarcasm came easily to the Apostate. The ephemeral, he repeated, deriding the Maker before refocusing his ire on the Wanderer. Brief flickers of life, you call them. You mock them, yet they have bested you twice. It seems the Telinaruul have risen in stature since last we reigned supreme.

The Wanderer quaked with fury, her desire to work violence on him apparent, but he knew that she would not attack; she could not. He was the Apostate, ancient when she was made.

Defying the will of the Maker, however, was another matter. Oldest of the Serrataal, she ruled without compromise. This is not the time for paralysis, she declaimed. Nor is it the hour for debate. The enemy is upon us. We must act with dispatch.

Light poured from the Conduit and cohered into an illusion of the Telinaruul ship in orbit, holding at close station to the Kollotaan ship the Wanderer had lured to the First World. The Maker directed all her thought toward the tiny spacecraft and bade her legion of faithful to join with her in smiting it.

Despite the Apostate’s defiant objection, the Colloquium’s majority had made its decision and stood poised to deliver its judgment. As he turned his own thought-line to the fray, the defensive batteries on the triplet satellites of the First World charged in a flicker of time and opened fire.

Supervising three separate mission initiatives at once had Commander Clark Terrell feeling a bit distracted.

On the main viewer of the Sagittarius’s bridge was a real-time visual feed from Lieutenant Xiong aboard the derelict Tholian battleship. At that moment, Xiong was working his way forward in a central corridor.

At a station on Terrell’s right, Ensign Theriault had started a general sensor sweep of the surface of the fourth planet. The young woman was deeply engrossed in her work.

On the other side of the bridge, McLellan was running close-up, passive visual scans of the artificial structures on the planet’s three satellites. For the third time in five minutes, she waved Terrell over. “Sir, have a look at this.”

“What’ve you got, Bridy Mac?”

The compact screen above her station showed a densely packed array of mechanical apertures. “It looks like a staggered firing array,” she explained. “Part of the reason for the delay between shots at Erilon and Ravanar might have been that those weapons needed time to build up charges in a prefire chamber.” She toggled a few keys on her control panel. The image shifted to a series of graphs, some rendered as waveforms, others as topographical overlays for the moons’ surfaces. “Based on the power signatures we picked up, I think this thing has dozens of prefire chambers, and they’re always primed. Each one charges while the others around it are firing.”

“You’re saying we’d be looking at a continuous barrage?”

McLellan nodded. “Yes, sir. These things could wipe out an attack fleet in no time.”

Terrell sighed and moved back toward the center of the bridge. “Wonderful,” he muttered. He settled at the left side of the captain’s chair and said to Nassir, “You heard?”

“I wish I hadn’t,” Nassir said. “Theriault, anything notable on the surface?”

“Passive scans aren’t getting much,” Theriault said. “There’s a lot of unusual interference. It might be part of the planet’s natural magnetic field. I’m developing a canceling frequency to help us see through it.”

“Very good,” Nassir said. “Keep us posted.”

Terrell nodded and smiled approvingly at Theriault, who returned the gesture and returned to work.

On the main viewer, the visual feed showed that Xiong had reached a point where the passage diverged. Ahead of him was an angled, oval-shaped tunnel that led down to a lower deck of the Tholian ship. The deck he stood on split into two paths that ascended around that passage’s opening and converged above it.

The image came to a stop for a moment, then proceeded down the lower corridor. Terrell gave a quick nod to McLellan, who unmuted the outgoing channel. “Uh, Ming?” Terrell inquired uncertainly. “Isn’t the command deck on the upper—”

“I have to see something,” Xiong replied over the comm. “Give me a minute.”

Terrell looked to his captain, who urbanely arched one eyebrow. “All right,” Terrell said. “It’s your show.”

Nassir leaned toward Terrell and whispered, “Clark? What’s he doing?” The most truthful answer Terrell could give him was a slow shake of his head and a shrug.

A wave of McLellan’s hand snared Terrell’s attention again. He walked over to her station, wearing an expression that he hoped would convey to the second officer how weary he was becoming of this particular ritual. “Yes?” he prompted her.

She spoke in a nervous whisper. “Shedai signals, sir. Origin unknown, but they’re being relayed to all three moons.”

“Have they detected us? Are they arming to fire?”

Switching her controls frantically, she shook her head and answered, “I don’t know. I think those weapons are always ready to fire. Maybe this is just routine activity, but I—”

“Raise shields,” Terrell said. “Now.” He turned and moved quickly back to the center of the bridge. “Sayna, stand by for evasive maneuvers. Theriault, are you reading any signal traffic on the surface? Any energy readings?”

“Nothing unusual, sir,” Theriault responded, “but I’m still getting interference, lots of it.”

Nassir cut in, “Clark, look at the screen.”

Terrell turned his head and saw the image that had his captain’s jaw hanging half open. Xiong had found a compartment inside the Tholian ship that contained a near-perfect, small-scale replica of one of the Shedai artifacts.

Xiong’s voice wavered with apprehension and crackled from static on the channel. “Commander Terrell?”

It took Terrell a few seconds to answer, “Yes?”

“Please tell me you’re seeing this.”

“Oh, we’re seeing it, all right,” Terrell said. “We’re just not believing it.”

“Believe it,” Xiong said.

Blasts rocked the Sagittarius. A fountain of flames, sparks, and debris erupted from an unmanned aft duty station. Lights failed as the inertial dampeners cut out. In the darkness, Terrell didn’t see the corner of the port console until he hit it chin-first.

Nassir lifted his voice above the thunderous din, but he still sounded calm. “Sayna, put us between the Tholian ship and the planet’s moons!” He thumbed the intraship comm on the arm of his chair. “Engineering, damage report!”

“Containment failure!” Ilucci shouted back, his anger more evident than his fear. “Had to dump our antimatter!”

Terrell pulled himself back to his feet. “Master Chief! Can you beam Xiong back?”

“Negative,” Ilucci said. “Transporter’s down!”

From the tactical station, McLellan called out, “Shields buckling, Captain!”

A roaring boom pinned zh’Firro to the helm and threw the rest of the bridge crew forward. Over the comm, Ilucci yelled, “Dorsal shields are gone!”

“Sayna,” Nassir said as he pulled himself back fully into his chair. “Get us out of here!”

Zh’Firro looked over her shoulder. “We can’t get out of firing range in time on impulse.”

“The planet,” Terrell cut in. “Let’s see if they feel like shooting at themselves.”

Nassir confirmed the order. “Sayna, take us down—evasive pattern Bravo. Bridy Mac, send an SOS to Vanguard.” He activated the shipwide comm channel. “All hands, this is the captain. Brace for emergency landing. Bridge out.” More explosions rattled the tiny ship as he closed the channel. Radiant phosphors rained down from sparking systems overhead.

On the main viewer, the blue-green sphere of Jinoteur IV grew larger until the curve of its horizon passed beyond the edge of the screen, and all that was left was the broad canvas of its surface. Golden plumes blazed ahead of the ship as it penetrated the atmosphere. Turbulence quaked the Sagittarius and rattled its damaged hull with deafening bangs of metal against metal.

Zh’Firro glanced back at Nassir. “Landing gear’s jammed. Airspeed dropping. Land or water, sir?”

The captain and the first officer looked at each other.

“A hard landing might breach the hull,” Terrell warned.

Nassir countered, “Breach on a water landing, we’ll sink like a rock.”

“All right,” Terrell said as the deck rumbled violently beneath him. “Split the difference.”

Nassir nodded and said to zh’Firro, “Aim for a beach.”

Terrell presented a stoic mien as the ship plummeted toward the planet’s surface, but as the engines whined and the hull clattered and moaned, he couldn’t help but grind his teeth as McLellan issued the distress call.