The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [109]
A cluster of ships had already launched from Theroc: Roamer vessels and even a single Manta, apparently one of Admiral Willis’s battle group. As she expected, Patrick was out there flying the Gypsy. Now that the Confederation reception committee had seen the threatening EDF ships, they increased acceleration.
Maureen responded to Pike with a cold smile. “Admiral, if you try to take me prisoner, I will create such a shitstorm of scandal your great-grandchildren will still be cringing from it. Cut your losses and go home. You don’t belong here.”
“Neither do you, ma’am. Unfortunately, the Chairman’s orders are clear.”
The two Mantas circled around before the Confederation ships could close the distance. The pilot looked to her frantically for instructions. Maureen assumed the EDF ships were going to use a tractor beam to seize her yacht, but instead the two Mantas pointed their bow weapons clusters at her. She saw their jazer banks powering up.
“He has my family hostage,” Pike said apologetically. “He has all of our families.”
Maureen opened her mouth in disbelief, and all words suddenly left her.
The Mantas opened fire.
* * *
76
Patrick Fitzpatrick III
The explosion flared on the Gypsy’s cockpit screens as he accelerated toward his grandmother’s ship. Though Patrick demanded all possible speed from his engines, he knew he would be too late.
For days now, he had been filled with optimism. King Peter had pressed him for details on his grandmother’s reaction to the invitation. “Is there any chance you misinterpreted her answer?”
“She’ll come. She knows the Chairman has to be stopped. She’ll be a strong advocate for the Confederation, and she’ll convince what’s left of the Hansa.” He looked forward to being on the same side with her; the Chairman wouldn’t stand a chance against their combined skills and determination.
But now his hopes vanished in a sparkling cloud of shrapnel, incandescent gases, and vented atmosphere. Somewhere among that wreckage, curling and drifting out in empty space, was all that remained of his grandmother, her crew, her companions.
“Damn you!” Patrick shouted into the comm system. “Murderers!” Before he knew what he was doing, he had accelerated violently toward Admiral Pike’s Mantas. He needed no more reason to hate the Hansa, hate the Chairman, and hate the dark and twisted abomination the EDF had become.
The pair of cruisers hung in space, their weapons ports still hot as the Gypsy rushed toward them. He simply could not let the EDF continue its atrocities with impunity.
In the copilot’s seat, Zhett was white with shock, yet sharp enough to realize the danger. “Fitzie, they’ll blow us out of the sky — just like they did to her.”
“They won’t,” Patrick growled, sounding more confident than he felt. But this was a fool’s response, and he knew it.
To his surprise, the rest of the Confederation reception committee followed him, also spoiling for a fight. Maybe all together they did have enough combined firepower.
Oddly, though, Admiral Pike’s heavily armored ships did not engage. The older man appeared on the comm screen, and he clearly recognized Patrick — probably because his face had been displayed so prominently on the Most Wanted boards.
“I’m sorry.” Pike sounded sincere. “Believe me, Mr. Fitzpatrick, I had no choice.”
Patrick took several potshots with the Gypsy’s minimal weapons, which were far too insignificant to cause harm to either Manta. Ignoring the provocation, the two EDF ships turned and accelerated away before any of the Confederation ships could catch up with them.
As soon as the Mantas were gone, Patrick felt the echoing emptiness of shock. He dug inside himself, found his hot anger again, and clung to it. She had come here because he had asked her to. She had been doing the right thing!
In dismay, he turned the space yacht around and headed back toward where his grandmother’s ship had been obliterated. With tears in her dark eyes, Zhett leaned close to touch him, but she found no words. Patrick sat back stiffly,