Elora’s smug smile widened. “When he no longer had the opportunity to run away.”
“Ahhhhh.” Xane nodded sagely.
Lucinda leveled a cool scrutiny on her daughter. “You should have waited, then. He still looks a little wild about the eyes.”
Elora gave a gay little laugh. “Oh, I know Solomon quite well by now. He’s painted himself into too many corners to run away without abandoning all those he cares about.” She cast a quick look around the table.
Giuseppe offered the brandy to Solomon, who poured two fingers into his own empty glass before handing the crystal carafe back to Giuseppe. The older man gave him a sympathetic smile.
“Lucinda caught me in a similar trap,” he admitted. “You’ll get used to it after a while.”
Xane was leaning back in his chair, not quite grinning. “How did you know that the time was ripe, Elora?” he asked, finishing his drink.
Elora locked Solomon in a green-eyed stare. “When I saw how he looked at me the other day at the pool, I knew.”
Xane frowned. “You have a pool, on a starship?”
Solomon nodded sourly. “Yeah, and wait until you see your fair sister in her Speedo. You’ll see why I fell in the pool.”
Lucinda began to laugh. “You fell in the pool?”
For Solomon, the evening went downhill from there.
The next day, thoughts of the approaching Terran warfleet loomed large in Solomon’s mind, as well as evacuating as many as he could from Mars before said warfleet arrived. If he was late, then the fleet would arrive, forcing him to fight his way out. Solomon didn’t relish the idea of destroying a dozen warships and their crews. It wouldn’t even be a battle—it would be a slaughter, and he wasn’t that much of a beast.
Giuseppe came up beside Solomon, slapping him on the shoulder, as they watched the sixth load of family and retainers lift off in the drop shuttles for the Lost Horizon. ”How is it going, son?”
“Very well, Giuseppe.” Solomon’s eyes didn’t leave the disappearing shuttles. “I guess that one more load will do it.”
Giuseppe grimaced. “We have a few more who won’t be here until late tomorrow.”
Solomon winced. “That’s when the Terran fleet is scheduled to arrive in Mars orbit. How many are we looking at?”
“A dozen Force Recon marines were caught in the open desert and are returning as fast as they can.”
“Damn. We won’t leave them behind. Maybe we could meet them halfway. Where are they coming in from?”
“The Hesperia region by ground skimmer.”
Solomon closed his eyes, picturing the map of Mars. “We can do it… I think… maybe.” He was having trouble sounding confident. “After we’ve sent the last load to Lost Horizon, I’ll fly the remaining shuttle to pick up the marines. Gibbs, the AI from the Lost Horizon will pilot the pinnace. When we’ve picked up the marines, I’ll turn off the stealth systems and then, along with the pinnace, head for the asteroid belt, where Lost Horizon will be hidden and waiting. The only difficulty will be going slow enough for the Terran fleet to keep up with us. I’ve already modified the engine output about as much as I can to resemble the output of a standard Terran military shuttle. They’ll think we’re going to a retreat hidden in the asteroids, which we are, kind of.”
He glanced at the knots of people waiting for the next shuttle to arrive. Some had meager bags of possessions, and all looked fearful. A small cart trundled by, loaded with the Fontaine family possessions. As it passed, Solomon recognized a meter-square cage with several familiar forms curled and apparently sleeping in the bottom. “Bringing the cats is a very good idea,” Solomon said, noting the two dozen tranquilized felines. “There are plenty of birds for them to hunt, and a number of mouselike rodents.”
Lucinda came up to stand by Giuseppe, carrying a suitcase in her left hand. At her side, Xane toted a large duffel bag. All three faces, Solomon noted, were pale and drawn, but Lucinda managed a smile as she looked at her husband. “How are the Buddhists doing with their evacuation?”
He sighed. “Quite well, actually. It seems that the Tibetans lost almost everything they had when they were relocated from Earth to Mars. Given the opportunity to relocate to somewhere like Tibet, but without the Chinese—they jumped at the chance. The abbot told me less than an hour ago that all the Buddhist refugees were nearly loaded aboard the Diadem. Apparently, the hardest time people had was convincing the Tibetan tribesmen that they didn’t have to bring wood into the ship to cook their food and that hot nutritious meals would be provided.”
Solomon studied Giuseppe. “What will you do about the estate, father?”
Giuseppe’s smile was positively feral. “The entire estate is rigged.” He handed Solomon a small device the same size as a com unit, but with a single red button on the top. The button was secured with a lid so that it couldn’t accidently be depressed. “This is the detonator. Push it when you are at least five kilometers distant, preferably ten. I’ve been told that the radiation will subside… eventually.”
Solomon’s com buzzed, and he turned slightly away from the others. “Solomon.”
“This is Areto. The Diadem is just lifting off, Captain, and the cargo is secured for the trip. My Tibetan may be a little rusty, coming as it does from Gibbs’s ancient memory chips, but I believe they are singing songs of thanksgiving to Buddha. Sensors indicate that the Terran fleet is closing more rapidly than you estimated. This is going to be close, so don’t hesitate to call for help.”
“Thanks. Any sign of the returning shuttles?”
“They’re almost there, but don’t waste time. Get in and get going.”
Solomon laughed. “Yes, Mother.”
“I’m serious. Be careful. Sensors indicate the Terrans are loaded for bear.”
“Especially when they thought that there would be nobody on this end to shoot back at them,” Solomon snarled. “I’ll let you know when to make your appearance.”
“Diadem clear.”
Solomon let out a relieved breath.
Lucinda looked at him in silence and raised a single elegant eyebrow.
“Areto just told me that the Diadem is clear and the shuttles are almost here. Get all your people into a single shuttle and tell the onboard AI to go. If things are too tight, put all the personal possessions on the shuttle with me. I’ll leave with the second shuttle to pick up the marines, and the pinnace will go with me to provide a suitable distraction. Don’t stop until you’re back on the Lost Horizon. After that, Gibbs, the AI on the Lost Horizon, will know what to do.”
Lucinda didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “It will be as you say, Solomon. I will repeat what I heard the AI from the Diadem tell you—be careful. We lost you once, and yet you returned to us. We don’t want to lose you a second time.”
Solomon gave her a kiss on the cheek as the wind from the landing shuttles ruffled her hair. “I will be very careful, Mother.”
“Liar!” Laughing, she turned to her husband.
Solomon sprinted for his shuttle and quickly belted himself into the pilot’s seat just as Elora plopped down beside him. The look she gave him, along with her single raised eyebrow, was exactly the same expression Lucinda had used on him only minutes before. The look dared him to say anything at all.
“Everything stowed away?” he asked, surprising her.
The haughty look on her face faded somewhat.
“Yes,” she said.
Through the walls of the shuttle, he heard the low roar as the first shuttle lifted with its load of passengers for the Lost Horizon.
“You had better buckle in, then,” Solomon reminded her and gave her a small smile. “This may be an interesting trip.” She buckled her belt without a word, but Solomon saw in her face that something was bothering her. “What is it?”
Elora shook her head, mouthing, “Later.”
He shook his head. “Fine. Be that way.” Reaching in his pocket, he withdrew the small detonator and handed it to Elora. �
�Hold on to this for me. I’ll need it quite soon.”
Both of Elora’s eyebrows crawled up.
Vectoring the thrust for a vertical takeoff, Solomon slowly pushed the thrust controller forward, and the shuttle rose into the air. In the windshield, he could see the pinnace a kilometer ahead and a thousand meters higher. In the departure angle camera, the estate looked deserted and forlorn, all alone in the wide red Martian desert.
“Shuttle Two, this is Shuttle One.” Giuseppe’s voice came out of the overhead speaker, and Solomon jumped a little.
“Shuttle Two.”
“Lucinda just wanted me to check that you had departed.”
“Roger that.” Solomon checked his ‘distance since takeoff’ on the digital display as the red landscape flashed five thousand meters below the small craft. “We’re reaching ten kilometers from the estate, so you might watch your monitor if you care to.” He turned to a wide-eyed Elora. “Please open the top and push the button, my dear.”
Her face may have been the color of chalk, but her hands were steady as she flipped open the security lid and pushed the button. The departure angle camera went white and zoomed back to display a growing mushroom cloud, all red-and-black fire. Solomon guessed the yield was somewhere in the low megaton range. A few moments later, the shuttle shook briefly as the blast front passed them.
“AI, time to rendezvous?” he asked the shuttle.
“Our speed is currently Mach 2.5,” the monotone voice said, “and inputting the location and speed given to me by Areto, rendezvous with the friendly forces should occur in forty-five minutes. Loading should take no more than five minutes if there are no delays. The first of the Terran warships will enter Mars orbit in fifty-five minutes. To prevent our destruction, we will have to go to a nearly vertical climb at maximum programmed velocity.”
“Shit, that’s close,” Solomon whispered.
“Indeed it is, sir. If it is your idea to alert the Terran fleet to your presence, your exit from the Martian atmosphere will stand out like a blazing flagpole.”
“It is my intention,” Solomon said stiffly.
The AI was silent.
Solomon watched the range-to-target indicator slowly tick down and started slightly when Elora touched his shoulder.
Her face was serious, her eyes sympathetic. “I was going through a recent data archive back on the estate when I came across this. I’m sure that Giuseppe knew and intended to tell you, but with all the confusion…” She handed him a single sheet of paper.
The headline on the article began: Boston detective killed in the line of duty!
Solomon closed his eyes at the sudden stab of pain and loss. Opening his tear-filled eyes, he read on.
“October 14, 2218 Boston Metropolitan Police Detective Addilyn Simms was killed in a firefight with drug dealers yesterday, along with her longtime partner Detective Edward Kerry. A Police spokesman reported that both detectives were wearing high-grade body armor, but that armor couldn’t stand up to the military-grade energy weapons the drug dealers were using. The investigation into the whereabouts of the drug dealers and perpetrators of this horrendous crime continues.”
Solomon carefully folded the paper and, without a word, handed it back to Elora. Her face was stricken. Her long association with Solomon had given her a deep understanding of how much he cared for Addy Simms and how much the news hurt him.
“Are you all right?” she asked in a low voice that barely carried over the rumble of the engines.
He took a deep breath before turning her way. “Hell no, I’m not all right. But if you mean am I going to do something stupid, then the answer is no.” He squeezed his eyes shut to hide his pain from the woman who sat beside him. “As you are so fond of pointing out, I’ve painted myself into a corner again, and the lives of a lot of people are depending on me.”
“Us!” Elora inserted firmly. “I’m sitting right here beside you, Solomon. They are counting on us.” She looked determined, and to her surprise Solomon nearly smiled in return.
“Excuse me, Captain,” the AI interrupted tactfully, “but sensors indicate the party we are to recover no more than five minutes ahead.”
Solomon blinked. “Already?” he asked the air.
“Actually, we are three minutes over our allotted time, Captain, but luckily, so are the Terrans.”
He shot Elora a sheepish look. “I guess I should concentrate on my driving, eh?”
She looked at her feet. “I shouldn’t have told you right now, but if I didn’t…”
“I’m glad you did,” he said softly as a targeting caret appeared on the red desert far below them, “for a number of reasons. Here we go.” He finished in a hard voice as he pulled back on the thrust. The drop shuttle fell like a brick. He was sure that the stubby delta wings had been added to the shuttle as an afterthought, just to break the unrelieved lines of the flying brick. Solomon rode the thrust gently, setting the shuttle down on the road directly before the speeding skimmer. The rear troop hatch banged open, sending a tremor through the entire vessel. “Get them in!” he snapped to Elora. “Quickly!”
Without a word, she was already running to the rear compartment. A few moments later Elora bounced into the copilot’s seat beside him. “Our dozen passengers are secure,” she announced, buckling up.
Solomon glanced to the timer on the tactical display. “That was quick.” He reached for the thrust control. “Only three minutes to buckle our passengers in.” He pushed the thrust controller forward, and the combat drop shuttle screamed for the sky. To his port and above, the pinnace matched his climb, trailing a long fiery tail as it burned through the thin Martian atmosphere. Muffled curses came from the passenger compartment.
“Oh, hell,” Elora muttered.
Solomon glanced up from his controls. On Elora’s tactical HUD, a dozen bright crimson dots were just coming over the wide curve of the planet.
He stared at the display. “I guess it’s time to dance, folks. Gibbs, would you please cut the stealth systems on the pinnace?” Solomon reached over and flipped a switch on his own console, disabling the shuttle’s stealth suite.
“Stealth systems inactive. Ready to initiate phase one.”
“Initiate.” Solomon watched the dozen blips on the tactical display alter their course to pursue the fleeing shuttles.
“One of the pursuing warships has launched a missile, Captain,” the shuttle’s AI said flatly.
The small dot flashed toward them as the tactical computer calculated the missile’s intended target, inserting a faint red line from the missile to the pinnace.
“Get ready to run, Gibbs,” Solomon grunted, glaring at the missile.
“It will not be necessary, Captain,” Gibbs replied in his infuriatingly calm voice, just as the missile seemed to stagger in the air and begin its long fall to the surface of Mars. “I didn’t think it had enough fuel to reach us. Now we know the range of their missiles.”
Solomon snorted. “And some crewman is probably getting his ass reamed for wasting a very expensive missile.”
“The Terran warships are accelerating,” Gibbs announced a moment later.
“Accelerate,” Solomon said, “but just a little slower than the Terran warships. Keep them interested, but just out of range. Head for the rendezvous.”
“This will probably be a long slow chase, Captain. The Terran ships are slugs.”
Solomon bit his lip as he watched, and cursed the very nature of space warfare. When he was younger and still an aviator in the marines, combat took place in minutes, or even seconds. In space warfare, the vast distances stretched combat to hours, or even days, while the lightspeed limitation made data collection less than real-time.
It was several hours later before Gibbs spoke again. “Captain, three of the Terran capital ships have turned back to Mars, probably to begin bombardment.”
Solomon frowned. “I suppose that we need to get and keep their interest then.” He stared at the approaching ships. What had s
tarted as a wave of ships had slowly turned into a long thin arrowhead, with one ship leading the pack, followed quickly by two others. “Gibbs, if we get close to you, can you launch a decoy to fool the Terrans? If you can do that I’ll reactivate the stealth systems and disable one or two of the lead ships.”
“I do have several decoys, Captain, but be very careful. The Terran ships are somewhat fragile, and a large missile will destroy the ship rather than simply disabling it. I recommend a seismic survey charge instead. The drop shuttle carries several.”
Solomon rolled his eyes as he turned the shuttle toward the pinnace. “I’m fighting a war with a bloody paintball gun.”
Elora gave him a long look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He thought about the question for a moment. “I suppose I am. I’m getting out some of my aggressions on the dumb unsuspecting Terrans. I really am glad you told me about Addy when you did, because I can use this Terran fleet as anger therapy.”
Elora giggled. “Poor Terrans.”
Solomon’s face turned grim. “Don’t you ever feel sorry for them, Elora. They are about to kill everyone on Mars because they are afraid of the dark, and for no other reason.” He glared at the console as the shuttle drifted closer to the pinnace.
The young woman gave Solomon a long speculative look and nodded slowly. “Spoken like a true Martian.”
“Ready to launch the decoy, Captain,” Gibbs murmured.
“Please do so,” Solomon replied, flipping on the stealth systems as a small football-sized object popped out of the pinnace’s hull, moving rapidly away on a more or less parallel course to the pinnace. “AI, please load three seismic charges into our missile tubes.”
The shuttle AI replied immediately. “Would you prefer the red, blue, or green charges?”
“What?” Solomon asked.
“The seismic charges, in addition to the chemical explosive, the charges contain a quantity of marking dye.”
Solomon started to laugh. “One of each, please. This is going to be fun, for me at least. Set a course for the three lead ships. Come up in back of them for a stern attack, perhaps fifteen degrees off directly astern. As you approach, study the configuration of the engines to determine exactly where our small charge would best disable the Terran engines.”
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