The motors rumbled beneath them. The Princess Cecile shuddered on a bubble of steam and plasma, then began to rise. She was shorter than the Aglaia and therefore wobbled at a higher frequency as she found her balance, but she was a lot steadier than Daniel had expected.
He grinned at Adele, then settled into his seat. His fingers moved across the console’s keyboard as he set up the next step on the corvette’s targeting display.
One step at a time, until they got home or went off the end of the final cliff.
Adele coughed wrackingly, doubling over in her seat to bring up orange phlegm. Her first thought was that she’d had a lung hemorrhage, but the color came from the brick dust she’d breathed as they shot their way out of the palace. It and the ozone generated by electromotive weapons were irritants, but she didn’t think either of them would kill her.
She wiped the sputum on her sleeve and went back to work. The fabric couldn’t be much filthier than before anyway.
Starships weren’t stressed for high acceleration. The Princess Cecile lifted at less than two gravities, making flesh a burden but nothing worse. Sailors moved about, albeit a little slower than they had in Adele’s library; and as for Adele, she noted with a cold smirk that many of her plumper contemporaries carried as much weight every day of their lives.
Daniel, instead of using the ship’s communication system, turned his head to say, “Adele? The Bremse up there’s laying a defensive array. Can you find the command node so we can destroy it?”
Adele put down her wands. “The constellation hasn’t yet been activated, but I’m changing our identification codes to mimic those of the Goetz von Berlichingen. That way we’ll be safe if they switch it on.”
“Yes, but can you spot the command node?” Daniel said. “We can destroy it with cannon or even a missile if you can just locate it.”
Adele heard in his tone the ingrained irritation of a male trying to get information from a female too dense to understand a simple question. She didn’t say: “Yes, if you’re stupid enough to want to commit suicide that way I can help you do it.”
Instead Adele said, “If the command node is destroyed each unit of the constellation will react to any ship within range except the Bremse. The command node is—”
She twitched a control wand without taking her eyes away from Daniel. An object on Daniel’s visual display changed from an icon distinguished only by number to a pulsing ball as red as murder.
“—here.”
“Ah,” said Daniel. His face was blank as he assimilated what he’d been told: all the things he’d just been told, including the fact that he’d acted like a fool. “Adele—Ms. Mundy. My concern isn’t so much for our own safety from the defenses, as for the safety of the Cinnabar force that retakes Kostroma.”
His expression was momentarily that of an older man and a very hard one. “As one most certainly will.”
He swallowed, settling into a calmer state. “Is there a way we can disable the constellation before we leave the system? Even if it means risk for us. Though not suicide, if you please, not at this point.”
Adele’s subconscious responded with a surge of pleasure to Daniel’s engaging grin. She’d frequently called people fools to their faces. She didn’t recall ever before meeting someone who analyzed the criticism, then accepted it because it was valid. Certainly no men had done so in the past.
“If you can put me aboard the node,” Adele said, “I can disable it. I can make it change sides, if I’ve the time.”
“Bremse to Kostroman vessel Princess Cecile,” growled the communicator. “Orbit at thirty thousand kilometers. Do not leave that assigned level or we’ll destroy you. Over.”
A different officer was handling the Bremse’s communications now. This one was female and had an upper-class Pleasaunce accent. Senior personnel had been recalled to duty when chaos broke out in Kostroma City.
Daniel bobbed his head as he considered. “Tell them we acknowledge but we’re having trouble with our reaction mass shutoffs,” he said.