Rion (18 page)

“Play it,” Rion ordered.

Another low-pitched voice shrilled through the speaker. “Warning. Warning. Any violation of Honor’s planetary space shall
be considered a hostile invasion. Turn back or prepare for disintegration.”

With a curse, Rion lunged toward the controls. “Computer, are all systems voice activated?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did that warning originate?” He checked the view screen for signs of an approaching attack.

“A space buoy sent the warning,” the computer replied.

Marisa joined Rion and faced the view screen. “Can we retreat and navigate around the buoys?”

“No,” the computer replied. “There’s a protective ring of buoys around the entire planet.”

“Do we have weapons to shoot down a buoy?” Rion asked.

“Yes.”

“Will destroying a buoy instigate a counterattack?” he asked.

“Uncertain. If we destroy a buoy, it could trigger an attack from other buoys, from the planet below, or from hostile ships.”

“What are our options?” Marisa asked.

“Turning back would be safest,” the computer said.

Rion had not come all the way across the galaxy to turn back now. “What else? Give us more information.”

The computer said, “Without knowing their weapons capabilities, I can’t suggest countermeasures.”

“What countermeasures?” Marisa asked.

“We could increase power to the shields,” the computer replied.

“Do it,” Rion ordered. Beneath his feet the vibrations hummed, and the lights dimmed, but their speed stayed constant.

“We can also increase speed,” the computer said.

“When this ship left Tor, our initial jump into space seemed almost instantaneous,” Marisa commented. “Can we land on Honor
that fast?”

Rion shook his head. “When we left Tor, empty space was a big target. Our destination didn’t have to be precise. But landing
takes much more precision and requires deceleration time.” Rion leaned over his monitor. “Perform evasive maneuvers. Release
warm chaff to fool the heat seekers into latching on to our tail dust.”

“Commencing evasive maneuvers,” the computer said. “Release chaff as necessary. Do you wish to employ the blinding device
in the hull?”

“Elaborate,” Rion demanded.

“I can alter the hull’s cell structure to avoid radar, sonar, and psionic detection.”

“Are you saying that we’ll become invisible?” Marisa asked.

“Only to their computer instruments. Not to the naked eye.”

Rion grasped the concept. Knock out a submarine’s instrumentation and the sub went blind. But that didn’t stop a man with
a periscope from spotting an oncoming missile.

“Why didn’t you suggest the blinding tactic first?” Rion asked.

“There’s a huge power drain,” the computer said. “I’ll have to cut life support back to the minimum. And we’ll still be a
target to any pilot who sees us.”

Rion glanced out the view screen. Bright flashes on the planet warned they’d soon have company. “Do whatever it takes to get
us down there in one piece.”

“That’s the problem,” the computer said.

“What?”

“With power diverted to other systems, we’re going to come down… hard.”

“So find a soft place to land. An inland waterway. A mud slide. Quicksand. Give us a chance to survive the crash.”

“More trouble’s on the way.” Marisa leaned into the view screen, staring at the ships blasting off from the planet, leaving
huge streaming tails in their wake. “There are hundreds of them.”

Unari ships were launching from every continent. The Unari invasion had spread across his world. The bastards.

The bridge lights dimmed, an indication they had only auxiliary power. A red emergency light blinked. The air didn’t go stale,
but it no longer tasted crisp and clean. The engines strained and roared through the hull.

Marisa spoke quietly. “Computer, I’d like to send a message to Earth.”

“Earth?” the computer asked.

“My world.”

The computer said, “Lock in the coordinates and I’ll transmit a message.”

Rion pulled down webbing from the ceiling. “Web in. The harness will help protect us during a battle or a hard landing.” He
buckled himself in, then continued, “I have Earth’s coordinates. But what would you say?”

“I’d warn them about the Unari invasion.”

“That’s not a good idea. The Unari might trace the message.”

She stepped toward the webbing and halted. “Even if they decipher my message, what would be the harm?”

“If they know you’ve warned Earth, they might move up their invasion plans.”

Marisa clenched her hands and sank her fingers into the webbing. The red emergency light flickered over her face. He could
see the agony of indecision in her eyes. And yet she stayed calm.

He said softly, “Even if the message gets through, will they believe you without proof?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s your decision.” He spoke quietly, gently. “But whatever you decide, you haven’t much time. Those ships will be in shooting
range soon.”

The computer chimed in. “Thirty seconds.”

Marisa stared at the ships, a thousand of them. “God help us.”

The spaceship and the planet are subject to the same laws of gravity.

—H
ONORIAN SCIENTIST

I
ncoming missiles,” the computer blared. “Web in for evasive maneuvers.”

“Get into your harness,” Rion urged Marisa.

Ignoring his warning, she veered toward the console. “I have to warn Earth.”

She took two shaky steps. A tremor shook the ship. Rion, already webbed in, grabbed her, twisted the webbing around her, and
hung on tight. A second later, the ship quaked and streaks of pink light burst across the view screen. The engines whined,
revved up, and accelerated.

G-forces slammed them. If not for the webbing, he’d have been flattened against the hull. He strained to hold Marisa, the
tangle of partial webbing aiding his efforts. Her cheek ended up plastered against his chest, and her fingers gripped his
shoulders. Sweat dripped down his forehead. He gritted his teeth, and his vision blackened to a narrow tunnel.

“Systems report,” he requested.

If the computer answered, he couldn’t hear it past the blood rushing through his ears. His vision went black.

Moments later, when he could see again, the ship had slowed. Marisa was still in his arms, unconscious. Merlin was gone.

With no one flying the ship, Rion struggled to untangle the webbing.

His arms locked around Marisa, he fought to regain his footing. Then she lifted her head, opened her eyes. “What happened?”

“Computer, status report?” Rion asked.

“We sustained a hit to the starboard engine. Hull breach is contained. Life support is on the backup generator. Communications
are down.”

Marisa raised her fist to her mouth. “Oh, God. Earth. I didn’t warn them.”

“There’s nothing you could have done.” He gave her a quick hug.

Marisa’s eyes were full of regret. “The moment we were in space, I should have used the communicator.”

“Stay here.” He webbed her in, and she didn’t protest.

Lurching to the control console, he glanced at the instrumentation. Enemy ships lit up the screen. Yet their vessel, apparently
undetected, appeared to be flying right through the fleet.

The hull’s invisibility shield was preventing the Unari computers from targeting them. But once they hit the atmosphere, the
pilots would use their own eyes instead of instruments for visuals, and the invisibility shielding would be useless.

“Land on Chivalri,” Rion instructed the computer. “It’s on the eastern seaboard of the northern continent.”

With his soul hungry for sight of home, he wished he had better visuals, but the weather was proving uncooperative. A huge
storm had moved in from the sea, and the cloud cover over his homeland didn’t allow him to make out the coastline. But it
might offer them protection.

“Can we hide our descent in the cloud cover?” he asked the computer.

“Affirmative. According to my sensors, there’s fog even at sea level. Unless you have landing coordinates, the lack of visibility
will make us dependent on instrumentation for landing.”

“Pull up a geographical survey,” Rion ordered. He leaned over the console, staring at the map, considering options. If they
landed too close to the capital, Unari forces might immediately spot them and take them prisoner.

Rion pointed to a mountainside beside a lake. “This is a private royal hideaway and hidden by mountain peaks. The lake is
deep. Can you set us down here?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“The first strike may have damaged the hull’s invisibility screen. It appears the Unari can see this ship from one angle.
They’ve shot five missiles at us. I can avoid three.”

“Rion. Web in,” Marisa called out.

He pulled down another harness. He had just tightened the last buckle when a missile struck a glancing blow against the stern.

The bridge console sparked bright reds and dark purples. Smoke hissed out of a broken pipe. Then automatic systems snuffed
out the fire, creating a white mist that smelled like burned oil.

For a moment, the ship seemed to hang in the sky. Then the vessel tilted, slid sideways, and rolled.

“Are we going to die?” Marisa asked.

Rion reached out and seized her hand. “I don’t know. But…”

“But?” she prodded.

“I’ve seen many things that have yet to happen.”

He wanted to give her hope. He didn’t mention that the flashes often allowed him to see into the future far beyond his normal
life span. If his tiny omission of truth could give her comfort, he could live—or die—with that.

The ship rolled stern over bow. The gravity system shut down. Bright orange flashes flared off the hull. But unless he looked
out the view screen, he had no sense of the out-of-control somersaulting.

“Where’s Merlin?” Marisa peered through the smoke. “Is he steering?”

“We’re on autopilot.”

“Brace for impact,” the computer warned.

“Just once, I’d like to land on a world without crashing,” he muttered.

Marisa didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes. Her lips moved as if in prayer.

“Give me updates,” he ordered the computer.

A missile swished by.

“We just avoided number two. Number three is off the port…”

Metal screeched. Fires flared. A roar of wind snuffed out the flames. Their craft had dropped out of space and into the atmosphere
like a rock.

“Apply antigravs,” Rion commanded.

“Compliance not possible. Deploying the emergency chute.”

The canopy snapped open with a jolt, caught air, and jerked them into a spiral as it braked the ship. Slowing down before
they crashed was necessary. But it also left them an easier target for missiles four and five.

A gust of wind swerved them sideways and missile four missed. Mountains rose through the clouds. Rion could make out trees
and a clearing growing in size as they plummeted.

“Missile five has a lock.”

Rion closed his hands into fists. “Evade.”

“Evasion is no longer an option. Engines are down. Chances of survival are less than one percent. Missile trajectory is heading
straight at us.”

He couldn’t change the missile’s path. He couldn’t shoot it down. He couldn’t evade.

“Cut the chute,” Rion ordered.

“What?” Marisa clung to her webbing. “We’re going to crash.”

“Better to crash than take another missile hit,” he explained.

“Chute cut.” The ship plummeted. “Brace for impact. Warning. Warning. Impact in five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

M
ARISA AWAKENED WITH
a terrible taste in her mouth. She turned her head and spat out dirt. Dirt? She sat up, stunned, confused. She was sitting
in a heap of wreckage in the middle of a forest.

She blinked. And it all came back. She and Rion had crashed on Honor. “Rion?”

Her voice came out a croak. She spat more dirt and raised herself from the pile of smoking debris, metal fragments that had
once been a magnificent spaceship. She had a dozen scrapes and cuts. Her entire body was one giant bruise.

Oddly, the scrap metal began to move as if an animal was scavenging among the wreckage for food. Was it Rion? Was he buried
and trying to get out from under a mountain of debris?

If he were buried under there, he’d be incinerated. “Rion?”

She tried to scramble toward the parts, determined to pull him from the wreckage. Her head swam, and she was so dizzy she
clutched a nearby branch to steady herself. Swaying on her feet, she gulped the thin air, tried to keep her balance.

But her legs collapsed. She sank into the dirt. She was hurt. Really hurt.

“Rion!”

Silence was her only reply.

If she was this hurt, he could be dead. But she didn’t want him to be dead. She wanted him to come walking out of the burning
wreckage with that charming grin of his and a remark about how she should have faith in his flashes. Damn it. He’d told her
they would survive.

“Rion?”