He jogged over to peer through the pod’s side window and out the other one, and he saw the warriors backing up to prepare for a second charge. Money was dragging herself toward the aft ladder, no doubt hoping to get to the top hatch to lay down suppression fire. But before she could get more than halfway up, the mass of Kalar flesh closed in on the pod and Kimura had to jump back as the compact craft was knocked another thirty-some centimeters edgeward. Their only defense had just become a weapon against them.
He stole a glance through the side port again. Money was down, moaning and semiconscious. Legatt had been knocked to the deck, showing no signs of motion.
Chiang and Ortega looked to Kimura for guidance. “Get ready,” he said. “Our only chance is a full assault, continuous fire.” He made a decision, adjusting the setting on his pistol. “Shoot to kill. Take down as many as you can before—” Another roar warned them to jump back just before the pod was pushed sideways again. This time, it teetered forward, and for an alarming moment it seemed it might tip over onto them. He met the others’ eyes intently. “Our priority is to protect the wounded. Got it?” he asked with meaning.
Chiang nodded gamely, but Ortega gave a weak laugh. “I don’t suppose that includes me?” Kimura just glared. “Got it.”
“All right. On my count. One, two—”
“Wait!” Chiang called. “Look!”
Kimura had not fully registered the rumbling sound over the roaring of the Kalar. But it was rapidly growing louder. He looked up for the source of the sound, the blue-white gibbous face of Rigel VIII dominating his view. Against that cratered expanse, he saw a glint of light that swiftly resolved into a gleaming silver shape: a wide disk trailing two narrow cylinders and a third, lower ellipsoid.
Endeavour!
Kimura laughed as the ship closed in on their position. “The mountain comes to Muhammad!” he cried.
The Kalar air defense forces were doing their best to cope with this latest intrusion, but their artillery shells exploded against the vessel’s shield envelope. Her flight looked a little rocky, but still stable.
As for the living battering rams down here, they had halted their attacks. Peering through the side ports again, he saw them backing away in alarm, though their leader gestured for them to hold their ground.
And then the first phase cannon beam hit between the warriors and the shuttlepod. Kimura could feel the heat even from behind the pod, and under the fierce warble of the beam and the crackling of ionized air he could hear rocky shrapnel clattering against the pod’s hull. The Kalar broke into retreat, and the phase cannon fire herded them away down the slope.
Endeavour’s course took it beyond the promontory moments later, but it banked into a circle, continuing to lay down defensive fire. “Nice flying,” Ortega said. He cradled his broken arm. “I wish I could take credit for it.”
On the next pass, Kimura saw the shields drop just long enough for shuttlepod two to emerge from the ship’s port launch bay and descend toward the promontory. The artillery fire continued, but Endeavour’s hull plating was strong enough to weather it until the shuttle was clear. The ship was low enough that the pod reached them in under thirty seconds, hovering along the cliff edge. The door opened . . . and Hoshi Sato beckoned to Kimura, crying, “Come on!”
Kimura and Chiang pulled open shuttlepod one’s side hatch to retrieve their injured, and Crewmen Abnett and Zircher climbed out of the second pod to help them make the transfer with due haste. Within a minute, the rescue was done, and Kimura was the last man into the crowded shuttlepod. He gave Hoshi an efficient but heartfelt hug and kiss. “Nice rescue.”
“You looked like you needed it. Seriously, the edge of a cliff? You’re so melodramatic.”
“Hey, I like to keep our relationship exciting.”
As the pod drew near to Endeavour’s drop bay, he saw that the tractor beam was already drawing the damaged pod up toward the other bay. “I see we’re not leaving any nasty high technology behind.”
“Least we could do to make up for the intrusion.” Sato looked around at the rescued personnel. “I take it the ship was empty?”
“Two dead, both Zami.” Her face fell. “At least we’re narrowing it down.”
“But we’re still playing by their rules. The odds favor the house.”
He stroked her chin. “That’s when you find a way to change the game.”
12
Hainali Basin, Rigel III
ONCE TRAVIS MAYWEATHER’S SENSES fully returned (along with a splitting headache that made him regret a couple of said senses), he found himself, Rey Sangupta, Sajithen, and her escorts in a wooden boat with their hands bound behind them. Their captors, burly Chelons in homespun loincloths and burnoose-like hooded cloaks, paddled the boat upstream through an unfamiliar tributary. When Mayweather asked where they were being taken, Sajithen advised him that they would be at their destination soon. Although the Hainalians treated her the same as the other prisoners, she retained the confident bearing of one who belonged exactly where she was.