“Open intraship,” she said. “All stations and quarters, every speaker.”
The com tech pushed the main switch.
“They ran us off the docks,” she said, clipping a button mike to her collar, as
she did when they were on casual op. She reached her own station, the control
post beside Graff’s, central to the bowed aisles. “Everyone’s aboard. Crew,
troops, everyone’s aboard. Mainday to stations, alterday to backup. Flash battle
stations. I’m pulling us out of here.”
There was stunned silence for a moment. No one moved. Suddenly everyone did,
shifting seats, reached for controls and com, techs scrambling for the lateral
posts shut down during dock. Boards hummed, tilting for use. Lights flashed red
overhead and the siren went.
“No undock, rip her loose.” She flung herself back into her own cushion, reached
for straps. She would have taken helm herself, but she did not, at the moment,
trust her reflexes. “Mr. Graff, skin her by Pell and take her out bearing…” She
sucked air. “Bearing nowhere at all. I’ll take her then.”
“Instructions,” Graff asked calmly. “If fired on do we fire?”
“No holds barred, Mr. Graff. Take her out.”
There were questions coming in via ship’s com, troop officers belowdecks wanting
to know the emergency. The riders were on patrol. There was no bringing them in
for consultation. There was no bringing them in at all. Graff was running his
final check, setting up his sequence of orders, checking the positions of
everything and making sure comp had it. Screens flashed a proposed course, a
chute over Pell incredibly close to atmosphere, a whip behind the world and
gone.
“Execute,” Graff said.
There was a crash, the lock seal, the emergency disengage; and a jolt that
wrenched them out of Pell’s slow spin. They hammered into a zenith rise and
mains cut in, slammed them over station. Something hit the hull and slid:
trailing connection. They kept accelerating with Downbelow’s dark side looming
at them.
“Mallory!” a voice shouted over ship-to-ship.
It was alterday. Captains were abed. Crews and troops were scattered on the dock
and they had breached umbilicals…
She clenched her teeth as Norway hurtled over Pell’s far rim and headed for a
course closer to a planet than comfortable. Held her breath and listened to the
curses that crackled over com.
Pacific and Atlantic were ordered to intercept. They had not a prayer of getting
into line in time, the rest of the Fleet in the way; and Norway had Downbelow
coming up for cover. Australia was breaking loose from station, with no
obstructions between them, and that was the danger. “Armscomp,” she ordered.
“Aft screens. That’s Edger. Get him.”
No acknowledgment; Tiho reached for switches in rapid motion and lights flashed,
screens shaping it up.
They had no riders for tail cover. Australia had none for bow. Norway’s combat
seals went into place, segmenting them. G was increasing as cylinder synch
calculated maneuver-possible. Over com came a frantic query from one of their
own riders, asking instructions. She gave no answers.
Downbelow loomed in vid and they were still accelerating all out. Approach
warnings were flashing. Australia was the bigger ship, the more at hazard.
Screens and lights flashed. They were fired on.
iv
Pell; blue dock; Europe; 2400 hrs. md; 1200 a.
“No.” Mazian hovered by his post, a hand pressed to the earplug while his bridge
swirled in chaos. “Hold where you are, hold for troop pickup. Warn all troops
blue dock is breached. Pick up any trooper on green no matter what ship. Over.”
Acknowledgments crackled back. Pell was in chaos, a whole dock breached, air
rushing out the umbilicals, pressure dropped. Debris floated between Europe and
India, troopers who had been on the dock, dead and drifting, sucked out when an
access two meters by two was ripped from its moorings without warning. The dock
was void. Everything had gone. Ships’ locks had closed automatically the instant
the depressurization hit, cutting off even those closest to safety.
“Keu,” he said, “report.”
“I have given the necessary orders,” the imperturbable voice came back. “All
troops on Pell are moving for green.”
“On the run… Porey, Porey are you still in link?”