Peter Telep - Pilgrim stars

Blair closed his eyes and took himself up to the catwalk. He glided behind the first Marine and shoved the woman over the rail. She hollered and fell headfirst onto the deck. As he threw himself onto the next jarhead, Santyana dove for the first Marine's rifle and rolled up with it. Under heavy fire from the remaining Marines, he scurried behind the main control panel, then popped up a second later to send a flurry of rounds streaming across the catwalk.

As Blair lifted the next Marine, a massive explosion wrenched him away from the catwalk and back into himself. Even as he opened his eyes, the deck dropped nearly a meter, and he crashed onto his side. The impact continued to reverberate as he struggled to sit up.

"We've been hit!" the XO said from the comm monitor. "Port ion engine offline! Hang on. Here comes the-"

Bulkheads thundered so loudly that they overpowered the XO, the drive, and the gunfire traded between Santyana and the Marines.

Then every sensation got locked inside that trillion-year second of the jump:

Karista hovered over Frotur McDaniel, her face like a plate of shattered glass.

The flash from Santyana's muzzle hung like a silk blossom, and a round floated just a meter away from the gun. With ruddy cheeks and bulging eyes, he had begun to shout something.

Maniac gaped at the blood on his fingers. More blood had streamed down from his neck and onto the collar of his Pilgrim robe.

Although Aristee had been freed, she had only made it halfway to the control panel, had felt the oncoming jump, and had reached out in vain before the drive rooted her to the deck.

Zimbaka and the other two Pilgrims had sought cover behind the curving back of the panel. They huddled together, eyes closed, heads tucked tightly into their shoulders.

While the drive officers had remained at their stations, all four had attempted to lift their legs and squeeze themselves into the padded confines of their chairs.

Then there was Paladin, who had assumed McDaniel's place at the drive's control panel and wore his mask of quiet intensity as he gripped his Pilgrim cross.

A key suddenly turned, the chest of the moment yawned open, and chaos escaped as though held under pressure.

"We've taken another hit to the port engine," the XO said over the comm monitor. "But the jump was successful, Brotur Taggart."

As Santyana cut loose another volley at the Marines above, Blair crawled on his elbows toward him.

Karista darted to Maniac, slung his arm over her shoulder, then hauled him to the relative cover of the hopper drive's massive pedestal.

"Hold your fire," Aristee roared. "Hold your fire!"

Rounds beat in triplets off the catwalk's railing as Santyana drove the Marines back toward the corridor. That accomplished, he straightened and swung his rifle at Aristee.

In the meantime, Blair glanced at the Marine he had tossed over the railing. While Santyana had confiscated her rifle, her pistol remained holstered at her side. Blair kept hunched over and stole his way to the unconscious soldier, withdrew her sidearm, then, two-handing the weapon, he slinked back behind the panel and stood beside Santyana.

"Brotur Vyson," Aristee said, directing her voice to the monitor and ignoring the weapons trained on her. "Report."

"We're five minutes from Earth orbit. Picking up massive electromagnetic signatures. Hold a minute. Contacts identified as the strike carrier Tiger Claw and the supercruiser Fosubius with her standard two-by-one escort."

"I was hoping for a smaller reception," Aristee muttered.

"Those pilots on Aloysius must've been picked up and tipped off Tolwyn," Paladin said. "But it doesn't matter. We can open the well now and take them all out. Computer. Initiate pre-jump sequence."

"Initiated."

"Don't do it, sir," Blair said, following Santyana around the control panel. Santyana broke right to close in on Aristee, while Blair continued on toward Paladin.

"Look up," Aristee said. "We have you covered again. You shoot. They shoot. So we're back to our standoff."

She hadn't lied. The Marines had once more fanned out along the catwalk, though Blair counted only seven now.

"Shoot her, for God's sake," Maniac cried. "And cap him, too, the scumbag traitor."

Blair closed his eyes and took himself toward Paladin-

But Zimbaka suddenly appeared and bent his knees in a battle stance. Blair didn't know which form of martial arts the man practiced, but he did know he was about to find out. "I don't think so, Brotur."

A hand fell on Blair's shoulder. "The containment field is operating at one hundred percent," Karista said. "Brotur Zimbaka and his friends are free to stop us. And they can. Forget it, Blair."

"But we have to do something."

After word had reached Captain Gerald of the Olympus's jump into Sol, he had decided that Angel's squadron would be designated Alert One and held in reserve to escort the Tiger Claw. Before the launch, Angel had gone to his ready room to dispute that decision.

"Don't question my judgment," Gerald had warned.

"You think my prejudice will falter out there?"

"Of course it will."

"We don't even know if Taggart and Blair are still on board that ship. I've been at this too long to let emotions get in the way. You know that."

"The admiral has ordered us to take the ship intact. If that's not possible, we will destroy it. To be honest, Commander, I don't think you're up to the task. You weren't particularly aggressive over Triune, and one of your people lost a Rapier because of that."

"But as I recall, I wasn't the one with doubts, sir."

"You have your orders."

"We're point squadron. Keep us in the rear and you're wasting resources."

"Thank you for that unsolicited opinion, Commander. You're dismissed."

She had considered pounding out of Gerald's ready room; instead, she had lifted a crisp salute, spun on her heel, and exited. Any display of anger at that point would have revealed that her emotions did get in the way.

But it hurt so badly to bury her feelings for Blair. She felt guilty, felt as though she were betraying herself.

Now, as she hovered with the rest of the squadron off the Claw's portside, she wondered if she could muster enough control to stand by and watch nearly five hundred Rapiers and a hundred Broadsword bombers-a combined force from the Claw and the Fosubius battle group-attack that lone supercruiser. Then again, maybe Gerald had done her squadron a favor. If the cruiser opened a gravity well, the battle over Lethe would repeat itself but on a much more devastating scale.

Dozens of thrusters speckled the night like sapphires and joined into necklaces that twisted back to the Fosubius and her escorts.

"Well, mates, there they go," Hunter said, transmitting on the squadron's general frequency. "And here we stay."

"Yeah," Bishop groaned. "Our first real shot at payback, and we're benched. Typical."

"At least we got good seats for the show," Gangsta said, her spirits only slightly higher than theirs.

"Hey, don't want to sound, well, scared, but I kinda like it where we are," Cheddarboy confessed. "Beats being flushed. You just know they'll open a well."

"Commander?" Hunter called. "Any idea why the captain held us back?"

Angel hesitated. "Ladies, it's my fault."

"Your fault?" Hunter asked. "You piss him off or what?"

"That's nice of you, Captain, but you know damned well why we're back here. You can't tell me you haven't heard the rumors about me and Lieutenant Blair."

"I, uh, didn't want to bring that up, ma'am."

"Well, there it is," Angel said.

"Maybe Gerald thinks we won't fight aggressively either, since one of our own might be on that ship," Bishop added.

"You people tolerate Mr. Blair, but you wouldn't disobey orders to save his life. Gerald knows that. But me? Maybe I would." Angel pressed her head into her seat and shut her eyes. "Maybe I would."