Reprieves

Grodek knew before I did. "Hey, Stantz," he said, "there's a thirty-weight back here that likes the way you smell."

My screen agreed. The torp was a standard Mark Thirty, slower than me and still far away. Nothing to worry about. "Fry it for me, will you, pal?" I was closing on a Sigurd Talon and didn't want to break off.

"Billy?" I got no answer. A glance at tac showed a debris field where Billy Grodek's Dart had been a moment before. The field was thick with ships; there was no telling which had gotten him. I feared them all.

When I looked up, the Talon was gone and two Thunderbird refits were racing toward me. I let loose with the disruptorgun. Though I scalded one of the Sigurds, I passed through a wicked rain of light as we passed. My readouts screamed in agony and the stick went dead. Newton's law was pilot now, and it guided me toward the searing core of the battle, where bigger ships than mine were trading blows and a backhanded slap of a salvo could incinerate my humble Blizzard.

I don't believe in gods, but prayer must work, because the stick came back to life and I could fly again. I turned sharply from the blinding crossfire ahead. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the Mark Thirty still paddling after me. My sharp turn had brought it closer, and a crack in the casing of my starboard thruster had me limping along at three-quarters speed. That torp could give me problems, I thought.

I fired off a decoy. The elusive Talon had just danced its way into my forward arc and I was not going to let it go again. Particulates bled from a rupture in her hull, but she was angling for an attack on one of my friends in a Hellbender, who had problems of her own with an enemy Hound. I must have found a sweet spot on the Talon because she exploded into a ball of molten slag.

Jenna's Hellbender had less success with the Hound. She was producing enough stray fire for three Hellbenders. "Jenna," I said, "let me have a crack at that Hound. I've got a torp on my tail--"

"Sorry, Craig, I'm running interference. Teigen's orders."

"Where is Teigen? I don't see him anywhere."

"He was on my shortwave a second ago. Oops. Gotta go."

The Hound had turned at an impossibly steep angle and threatened to reverse positions with Jenna. In so doing it crossed paths with me. We both unleashed a barrage of fire. I got the worst of it.

It's not the noise that terrifies; it's the silence. My little cockpit was quiet as a tomb. With the detachment of a surgeon I ran through the checklist of diagnostic and damage control procedures. The incoming torpedo was, of course, foremost in my mind. I knew I had no more than ten seconds before it sent me to my reward, and a glance at the meager drive reading showed I could no longer outrun it. I caught a glimpse of it in the rearview monitor, looming ever larger. Calmly I spun my ravaged ship around, locked my disruptors just in time, and pulled the trigger. A blinking light on the screen informed me I was shit out of luck. I hurled myself against the stick. My Blizzard ducked below the obscenely close torpedo. Proximity alarms blared in my ears. I glanced at a display and saw the torp sail past me, foiled by its own momentum. Already, however, it was turning its nose in my direction. I did not spare the throttle as I struggled to create distance between us.

I recognized a Teal Hawk out of my peripheral vision. "Paurus," I said, "I've got a torp on my tail. Anything you can-"

"Sorry, Craig, can't slow down. I've got three of my own." I saw at once that he was right. A trio of Mark Twenties was dogging him. "Why don't you jump? You're in no condition to fight."

"I don't think I can," I said. "My jump signature won't stabilize." I took a deep breath. "I may have to punch out."

"Hey, we're getting creamed," Paurus said, "You punch out, we're not going to be here. You know what they do to prisoners. You stay in your ship."

"I may not have a choice."

"You stay in your ship."

He was right. A quick death would be preferable to what the Sigurds had in store for me. These seemed to be my only two options, unless&

I tried not to get ahead of myself. I knew the torp was closing fast. I cycled through the natural range of homing frequencies, looking for the signal width that would scramble the monster's sense of smell. Second followed second. Sweat dripped off my face. The torpedo was on top of me.

Alarms blared.

The torpedo exploded.

My Blizzard was rocked by the shockwave. Astonishingly, I was still alive.

Teigen's voice appeared in the cockpit. "Stantz, is your jump drive working?"

It took me a moment to find my voice. "No, sir. I'm afraid not."

"Then get it fixed. I'll cover you, but not forever."

Never have I worked more frantically. Within a minute - which seemed forever - my jump drive was back and I was rocketing through the starless void.

Back on base I bought Teigen a drink. I was wondering how to thank him for saving my life when he saved me the bother.

"Don't thank me," he said. "I didn't do anything. That torp is still out there." He had already had a few drinks, so I decided to humor him, but by his next words I knew that he was sober. "There's a torp out there for each of us, and they all catch up eventually."

I nodded and reached for my drink. "To reprieves from destiny, then."

Teigen decided he would drink to that.