Intrepid

''What's that?'' Thorpe asked no one. He pulled a tiny laser pointer from his command chair. ''Is that a notch in the shield, or a mark?''

There was something at one point on the edge of the disk. It revolved around it rapidly. Thorpe counted slowly … and didn't get past three. ''That disk is revolving at twenty revolutions per minute.''

The financier's rep looked at Thorpe blankly. It meant nothing to him. The XO blanched.

''Warships with ice armor rotate themselves at twenty rpms to keep a laser hit from burning through,'' Thorpe told Whitebred.

''That's armor,'' the XO breathed softly.

Now Thorpe scowled at the moneyman. ''And whoever sent Princess Longknife out here with a company of Marines and top-of-the-line Smart Metal™ for her ship's defense, do you think they'd scrimp on her gun power? Do you think so, Whitebred?''

''N-n-no,'' the man stuttered.

''Sensors, can you tell me anything about the capacitors on that ship? Anything?''

''Not a thing, sir. We are well and truly jammed.''

''So, they're just sitting there, waiting for us to take a swing at their kitty cat with our popguns before they swat us like a fly with two, no, four twenty-four-inch pulse lasers. Right, XO?''

''The ship we wanted to rent had four twenty-four-inch pulse lasers and a pair of five-inch long guns. And it had Smart Metal™ armor. There was only one ship in the yard, just fitting out, but they'd built a half dozen like it and sold them all, sir.''

Thorpe breathed in an angry breath and let it out like fire. He wanted that girl. She'd taken one ship away from him. Now this. Two choices gaped before him. One meant death for him and his ship. The other… To run away from that Longknife girl. Would that be anything less than death? Long. Slow. Without honor.

If it was up to Thorpe, he knew which he'd take. But his crew had not signed on for suicide.

The words scalded as he spoke them. ''Helm, get us out of sight of that ship. Hard break from orbit. Skim the atmosphere as close as you have to without burning us up. Get us out of here, then set a course for the nearest jump point. I don't care which one. Just jump us out of this system.''

Too many emotions were battling in Thorpe's gut. ''XO, you have the conn. I'll be in my cabin if you need me.''

Thorpe pounded the release buckle for his chair restraints hard enough to half knock the air out of himself. He launched for the bridge hatch and would have bashed his brains out on the passageway wall if he hadn't expertly caught himself and redirected his passage.

Again, the Longknife brat had ruined his plans. Twice.

It would not happen a third time. Next time, he'd kill that woman.

41

Lieutenant Kris Longknife did not like what she saw. In the far distance, white-clad figures in a well-spread-out line moved down the valley, stopping here and there for a moment to shoot, then hurrying to keep up with the flow.

On her left, the line hurried faster, aiming itself at the painfully vulnerable hole into the hill.

Higher up the hill, a couple of those two-wheeled carts were also being pushed toward the obvious target.

Cortez had spotted the chink in her armor and was aiming everything he had left at it. Kris was tempted to start shooting from where she lay now, but it was a good six or seven hundred meters. Nearly two hundred yards closer lay what was left of a clump of trees.

And the surviving enemy riflemen.

Staff Sergeant O'Mally pointed at his enemy. ''We've got ‘em lying down, acting very dead, but I don't trust ‘em any more than I'd trust a Marine in that situation.''

Kris eyed the lumps of intermingled dirt, bodies, and fallen branches in what once had been a lovely orchard. No way of telling now what had grown there. Up the valley, the white shirts were now running. Some fell to the fire from Gunny's position on the ridge above. Not nearly enough.

''We got to go. Now, Sergeant.''

''My thoughts exactly. Okay, Marines, living forever is way overrated. Up and at ‘em. Fire and move.''

As the sergeant stood, he just happened to kick Kris's knee out from under her. She found herself falling flat.

''You come along later, Your Highness,'' he said, and was gone, moving deliberately, firing single shots as he spotted something worth a round. On either side of him, eleven troopers moved in perfectly trained reflections of their sergeant.

Kris pulled herself back up, level with a hay bale. Ahead of her troopers someone tossed aside a gun. Still lying flat, though now faceup, he held his hands to the sky.

One of the Marines went down, blood glistening on the chest of her armor. In the orchard, what had looked to be a clump of dirt exploded in blood and brains.

With a suddenness that was a kick in the gut, this little corner of the battlefield fell silent. The Marines still advanced, studying the wreckage before them over their rifles' sights, fingers tight on the triggers, but nothing moved.

Nothing so much as twitched.