Starplex

“What’re you got in mind?” asked Rhombus. Dark matter was approaching Starplex on three sides, like a fist closing around a bug.

“Hopefully, a way to get out of here—if it doesn’t kill us.”

The starfield split open, and Jag walked in. For the first time, Keith saw a look of humility on the Waldahud’s face. Jag had presumably been watching the space battle, and had seen his compatriots slammed into the emerald star. But still some of the old defiance was in his voice as he looked suspiciously at Keith. “What do you want?”

“I want,” said Keith, his voice tightly controlled, “to slingshot Starplex around the green star, and hurtle it into the shortcut from the far side.”

“Jesus God,” said Thor.

Jag grunted a similar sentiment in his own language.

“Can it be done?” said Keith. “Will it work?”

“I—I don’t know,” said Jag. “I would normally like a few hours to do the calculations for something like that.”

“You don’t have hours—you’ve got minutes. Will it work?”

“I do not—yes. Maybe.”

“Melondent,” said Keith, “transfer control back to Jag’s station.”

“So doing,” said the dolphin.

Jag slipped into his usual spot. “Central Computer,” he barked, “put our trajectory on this monitor.”

“You are barred from issuing nonhousekeeping commands,” said PHANTOM.

“Override!” snapped Keith. “Jag’s house arrest is suspended until further notice.”

The requested schematic appeared. Jag squinted at it. “Magnor?”

“Yes?” said Thor.

“We have only perhaps ten minutes until we are engulfed. You will need to fire all our ventral thrusters. Copy my monitor six in touch-screen mode.”

Thor pressed buttons. “Okay.”

Jag ran a flat finger in an arc along the schematic. “Can you manage a course like that?”

“You mean on manual?”

“Yes, on manual. We have no time to program the run.”

“I—yes, I can do it.”

“Execute it. Execute it now!”

“Director?”

“How long until the Rumrunner is anchored to our hull?”

“Four minutes,” said Rhombus.

“We don’t have the time to wait for her,” said Jag.

Keith turned to snap at Jag, but stopped himself. “Options?” he said generally to the people on bridge.

“I can put a tractor beam on the Rumrunner,” said Rhombus. “I won’t be able to haul her in before we hit the shortcut, but she should be dragged over to it with us and hopefully Longbottle can pilot it through.”

“Do that. Thor, get us out of here.”

Starplex rushed toward the star at an oblique angle. “Thrusters on full,” said Thor.

“There’s another problem we still have to deal with,” said Jag, turning to Keith. “There’s a good chance that I can get us to the shortcut, but once there, we’ll just plunge through it. We won’t have any time to slow down and do a controlled approach at a specific angle, and with our deck-seventy hyperscope array damaged I can’t even predict which exit we’ll pop out of. It could be anywhere.”

The dark-matter fingers were still stretching toward Starplex. “In a few minutes, anywhere will be preferable to this place,” said Keith. “Just get us out of here.”

The ship began to careen around the star. Half of the bridge hologram showed the green orb, its granular surface detail and dumbbell sunspots visible. Most of the rest of the view was cloudy, with dark-matter tendrils eclipsing the background stars. “Rhombus, do you have a solid lock on the Rumrunner?”

“It’s still four hundred kilometers away, and dark matter is starting to intervene, but, yes, I’ve got it.”

Keith breathed a sigh of relief. “Good work. Have you been able to contact Cat’s Eye, or any darmat?”

“They’re still ignoring our hails,” said Rhombus.

“We can’t go in as close to the star as I would like,” said Jag. “There’s not enough water left in the ocean deck to make an effective shield, and our force screens are still burned out. There’s a thirty-percent chance that the darmats will ensnare us.”

Keith felt his heart pounding in his chest. Starplex continued to swing around the star in a parabolic course, the tendrils still stretching toward it. The Rumrunner was indicated in the hole bubble as a tiny square, with an animated yellow tractor beam lancing out to it. The starfield wheeled—Thor was angling the ship as they grazed the star’s atmosphere.

Finally, Starplex reached the cusp of the parabola and, picking up enormous velocity from slingshoting around the star, raced toward the shortcut. In the hole bubble, PHANTOM brightened the yellow tractor-beam animation, indicating that additional power was being pumped into it. Starplex’s course, four hundred kilometers closer to the star, was significantly different from the path the Rumrunner would have been following if it had been looping around the orb under its own momentum.

“Two minutes to contact with the shortcut, mark,” said Rhombus.

“We’ve never gone through a shortcut this fast before—no one has,” said Jag. “People should secure themselves, or at least hold on to something.”

“Lianne, pass on that recommendation to all aboard,” said Keith.