Stars in the Sand (31 page)

 With a deep sigh, he said, “What are our options?”

 “
Not many. We could head back to the planet, land somewhere else, go to ground and wait for a rescue. They know where we’re heading now, though, so Ouroboros will be a target.”

 “
And we don’t have enough fuel to catch up with her when she’s under acceleration.”

 “
At this point we’ll have problems enough making contact at all.” She paused, then said, “We could accept the missile hits, try and mitigate them?”

 “
Then we’re stuck stumbling through space on a ship in pieces. I did that before, and it wasn’t much fun. One bad hit and we stay here, and everyone buys the farm.” He glanced down at the readings, then smiled, “I think I’ve got something.”

 “
What?”

 “
Go aft and take a look at the engine manifolds. See if you can do anything to give me an additional boost.”

 
“
I don’t know what I can do back there.”

 He turned to her, and with a nod, said, “I trust you to do anything that you can, Maggie.”

 With a slightly puzzled nod, she unbuckled and made her way back to the rear compartment. Activating the autopilot for a moment, Marshall followed her, slamming his hand on the lock control and using his command codes to seal it shut. It would take too long for them to get through, long enough to do what he had to do.

 Tapping a series of controls on the navigation computer, he nodded at the results of his computations. As he thought. Only one satellite was going to be in position to get those critical shots, and the shuttle was going to get pretty close. He entered a new course, and the nose yawed to the side, pulling in a new direction as he changed the trajectory, throwing the shuttle into a new orbit. Now they would get within a couple of miles of the satellite, at a speed that was only twenty meters per second different. Just enough for his purposes.

 A winking light told him that someone was trying to get through to him from the rear compartment, Orlova wondering whether he had lost his mind, most likely. Then another signal from Ouroboros, Caine trying to call him. Ignoring them, he started to set up a new course, programming the autopilot to engage it at the right second – one that would get the shuttle back up to the freighter with a few ounces of fuel to spare. A hot pilot could dock with that, and there were a couple of good candidates on board.

 Standing up to let the autopilot do its job, he started to don his spacesuit, strapping the regrettably low-velocity pistol to the holster on its side, taking his time to check each of the telltales, watching the lights all flash green. The oxygen tank was only a quarter full, enough for maybe a couple of hours, but at this point, that wouldn’t matter. It only had to last for another nine minutes, then it would be enough.

 Standing in the airlock, he activated the communicator, contacting them both at once, “This is the Captain. I’m about to bail out.”

 
“
Why?” Caine asked, her voice ragged and desperate.

 “
I’ve changed the shuttle’s trajectory to give me a window to get on board the satellite. I should be able to knock it out.”

 “
Then what? You wouldn’t be able to get back.”

 “
I know,” he said.

 “
Captain,” Orlova said, “let me go.”

 “
Your wrist is still bleeding. You need medical attention, not a battle.”

 “
Any of the troopers…”

 “
Who have been under detention for months, and aren’t at their best. I am. This is my job, Maggie. I’ll be leaving the ship in twenty seconds.”

 There was nothing they could do to stop him, not now, and she knew it. “We’ll do the fastest turnaround of a shuttle in history, Captain. We haven’t given up on you yet.”

 “
Fine, Maggie. The door will unlock as soon as the outer hatch opens, so get Barbara up to fly the ship if you can’t handle it yourself.”

 “
Will do.”

 “
Don’t do this, Danny!” Caine said. “We’ll take the hits, there is another option!”

 “
Not this time,” he said, pushing the button and stepping into the lock. The automatic systems cycled, and he flew out of the shuttle on the last traces of the atmosphere, using the thrust to get him properly on course. His suit navigation computer had picked up the course from the helm, and was twisting towards the satellite, spending its fuel in a reckless series of bursts.

 At least, so he presumed. He was too far away for the satellite to be anything other than a faint dot in the distance. The shuttle burned up, kicking into the orbit to take it to Ouroboros. There was a slim chance that the shuttle might get back to him in time, if he could knock out the satellite rapidly enough.

 Warning alerts were droning in his ear, and he flicked them off with a switch. The suit was fine, and he knew that he was using far too much fuel for his own good, that the oxygen in his suit was well below safety limits. None of that was important, not right now. He had a job to do, and the satellite was getting closer and closer, now resolving itself into a definite shape, a long cylinder bristling with solar arrays and missile tubes.

 Simply knocking out the panels wasn’t going to be enough; that might help in the long-term, but he needed to disable it in the short-term. He reached out his hands, then was briefly blinded as Denebola rose over the horizon, a flash of white light shimmering on his face plate before he could adjust, an afterimage burned into his eyes.

 A new series of warnings were sounding, this time collision warning alerts. He’d managed to change his speed almost enough, but it was still going to be a bit of a collision, and he braced himself for the impact, grabbing a safety line in his hand, ready to latch himself onto any available surface.

 He smashed into a solar array, the fragile cells snapping off in his hand as he tried to grab on, then hit the side of the satellite itself, frantically struggling to clip himself on, reaching for a secure handhold. One last burst of fuel gave him the second he needed to fasten himself to the station, and as the clip locked into position, he let go, spinning out into space, whirling around until the tether could arrest his movement.

 For a heart-rending second, he was sure that the line was about to snap, but it pulled him back when it reached its fullest extent, slowly recoiling back in towards the station. The heads-up display warned him that he only had four minutes left. Somewhere up above, the shuttle would be closing in for its terminal maneuver, locking onto the freighter.

 With a series of quick tugs, he drew himself back towards the satellite, hand over hand until he made contact with the hull. One of the first things he saw was an access port, and he slid it open, pulling out components and tossing them away. The harder it was to repair this, the better, and the satellite immediately began to tilt out of position, turning down towards the sun.

 Climbing towards another port, he tried to open it, but found it jammed. If this was anything like the ones the Triplanetary Confederation used – and there were enough similarities that he suspected espionage was involved – then this would be the missile control system. Knock this out, and they wouldn’t even be able to fire the missiles, let alone guide them.

Another alert sang in his helmet, and he looked down to see a large hatch opening; he realized a key difference. This satellite was manned. Normally, there was only a small space for a man to work in shirtsleeves if necessary, but either he’d been extremely unlucky, or the Cabal was stationing guards on their satellites.

 Leaving his work, he dived down towards the figure, the flash of a plasma burst buzzing through the space he had been floating in, burning a hole through one of the solar arrays. Marshall reached down to grapple with the figure, tearing at the controls on his opponent’s spacesuit as he struggled with him, trying to pry the pistol away.

 The figure was clamped onto him, and they span around each other as they futilely battered away, neither of them having any realistic chance of damaging the other’s suit. Marshall was at a disadvantage here as the guard bought time with his struggle, and he reached down for his pistol, knowing that while it couldn’t penetrate the suit, it could still give him a little edge. He placed the barrel next to the armored fabric and pulled the trigger, throwing himself clear with the recoil; he fired again to wrap himself around the satellite, and dived for the still open hatch.

 Another plasma burst, this one just over him, catching one of the satellite’s thruster tanks, sending it spinning out of control as the internal systems struggled to compensate. With a desperate effort, Marshall managed to scramble inside, hitting a control to close the door. Warning lights were flashing everywhere, but he focused on the missile computers, and he clumsily started to type commands to delete key files, purging the system of the programming it needed to operate.

 The station lurched, thrusters firing at random now, and the warnings grew louder by the second as he completed his task. Outside, his erstwhile opponent was desperately battering at the door, trying to get in, but short of melting his way through, he had no chance. Marshall checked his heads-up display again and smiled; he’d managed to disable the satellite with a minute and a half to spare, and for a second, he allowed himself a little hope that Orlova might be able to get the shuttle back to pick him up after all.

 His hope was dashed almost instantly as he looked up at the source of the warning alerts. He’d thought that the system was simply alerting him to the sabotage he was causing, but he was wrong. A combination of the thruster malfunctions and the systems failures had led to the satellite changing orbital path, slowing dramatically. In less than an orbit, the satellite was going to burn up. Far worse, long before that it would have drifted into the firing path of the satellite behind it, and anyone trying to come after him was going to be rewarded with nothing other than a missile on their ta
i
l.

 Trying to muster a smile, he leaned back in the control couch and cracked open his helmet, taking one last look at the clock. One minute to go, but he’d bought them the extra time they needed. He glanced down at the approaching planet, the gray clouds menacing and dark beneath him, and smiled.

 “
You’re only getting me, you bastard.”

 Reaching across for a drink, he took a slurp, noting favorably that it was mildly alcoholic, then started to play with the controls. No way he was going to bring this craft down, or even do anything other than buy a little more time. He played with the thrusters anyway, firing them at maximum, spending what fuel remained, but it was no use. The trajectory extended a little, projecting a crash into one of the vast oceans of oil, but it wasn’t going to matter.

 By the time he got down that far, he’d be nothing but a fireball anyway.

Chapter 31

 Orlova unbuckled with an effort, wincing at the pain in her wrist before ducking through the hatch. Wilson was waiting on the other side as ordered, and a pair of technicians raced to connect up the fuel lines for the transfer. Their passengers hurriedly emerged, drifting into the corridor, their eyes showing their joy at being free, and their sorrow at the price that had already been paid.

 “
How long, Chief?” she said.

 “
About three minutes, ma’am.”

 “
Bradley, stay here. Get ready to go when I give the signal.”

 “
Cooper. What about Cooper,” she said, her eyes red.

 “
Barbara, we saw him shot. In the back,” Forrest said, gently. “Save the living before we worry about the dead.”

 “
He isn’t dead,” she said. “I’m going back down there.”

 Orlova glanced at Forrest, and he nodded, saying, “We’d all go with her if there was a chance, but...I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

 “
Thank you, Sergeant,” she replied, dashing for the elevator. It took far too long to ride up to the bridge, and she glanced down at the bandage on her wrist, the blood now showing through it. It hurt like hell, but she didn’t have the time to do anything about it, not yet. When they got to hendecaspace, she’d have as long as she needed.

 The doors opened, and she drifted into the bridge. Caine was hovering over the communications console, trying to call the Captain, and Nelyubov was manning the helm, the escape course already plotted for the flight home. At least they should be able to manage that much.

 “
Status report, someone.”

 Caine turned, then said, “Danny did it, but the satellite’s dropped into a lower trajectory. Less than thirty-five minutes until re-entry.”

 
“
Not a problem. The shuttle can be with him in ten.”

 
“
Lieutenant,” Nelyubov said, “That will put us in range of another satellite.”

 “
Window?”

 “
We’re already too late for the shuttle to return.”

 Closing her eyes, Orlova said, “Can you get the Captain?”

 “
I’ve been trying, sir,” Weitzman said, looking up at Caine. “Ah. Got him.”
 
“
Put him on the speaker,” she said. “Captain, we’ve got a shuttle ready to go in one minute.”

 “
Negative, Maggie,” he replied. “I’m going to veto that.”

 “
Danny, we’re coming to get you!” Caine said.

 “
I checked the figures myself. Even if you could risk Ouroboros, whoever you send will be in the firing line of another one of these flying fortresses for a good three minutes. Suicide.”
 
“
Bradley and Forrest are willing to try,” Orlova said.