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On-screen sparks of gold flared. Scintillating beams stretched between the alien craft and the Beatrice.
Sitting ducks and fish in a barrel were the phrases that Fred liked to use.
She could jump. Kelly and the other Spartans of Red Team
had survived a high-altitude jump out of a Pelican—but not like this. The Beatrice was in midorbit. At high velocity, her MJOLNIR armor might survive the turbulence and heat—but inside, she'd be pulped and roasted.
Kelly glanced at Dr. Halsey. There'd be no jumping for the Doctor.
She'd have to take her chances and stay. She climbed back into the first mate's chair, buckled the harness, and gripped the arms.
A crisscross of energy beams blurred in front of the cameras. The heated turbulence was a haze of chaos, smoke, and boiling air. Optically dispersive.
"Delay that braking maneuver."
"Inadvisable. If we do not slow, the Beatrice will bum up."
"That's what I'm counting on," Kelly said. "Wait, three seconds."
The AI considered, his light winking rapidly. "Understood. Recalculating delayed energy output."
The alien energy weapons distorted, refracted by the increasingly chaotic turbulence until they blurred into dozens of fainter beams… and then disintegrated in the fireball left in the Beatrice's wake.
"Beam cohesion near zero," the AI announced.
The temperature within the ship jumped to forty degrees centigrade, and Kelly heard pinging throughout the frame.
"Initiating counterthrust now," the AI said.
Kelly braced.
An explosion sounded in the aft compartment. Kelly was thrown backward and the first mate's chair, never designed to hold a half ton of Spartan and MJOLNIR armor, snapped off its base.
She tumbled, crashed into the bulkhead between the bridge and the engine room, punching a dent into the bulkhead.
The engine screamed with ultrasonics and it shook the ship
so violently, Kelly's vision blurred. Crackles radiated from the spine of the hull, microfracture fatigue, and the popping and tearing came from the port wing.
The engines ceased and the crushing deceleration eased.
Kelly peeled herself off the wall, and saw that Dr. Halsey was still safely strapped in her seat. Blood trickled from the elderly woman's nose, and it bubbled, which was good; it meant the Doctor still breathed.
"We are presently seven kilometers over the planet's surface," the AI said. "Stable trajectory for a controlled landing. Main engines… inoperable. Auxiliary engine operable, but incapable of escape velocity."
"Understood," Kelly said. They were stuck… wherever they were. "Pursuit vessel status?"
"None within visual or radar range."
Kelly didn't think they'd seen the last of them.
She went to the Doctor and checked her pulse. It was strong and steady. She was tougher than she looked.
Kelly spotted two duffel bags secured under the captain's chair: one was filled with a variety of medical supplies, and the other held four MA5Bs and sixteen clips.
She smiled. There were weapons here after all. She grabbed one of the MA5Bs, slid the clip home, and hefted its reassuring weight.