The Garden - Melissa Scott [90]
head instinctively against the rain of debris. It fell short, mercifully, and a moment later Renehan was in the ditch beside him.
"Nice shot," she said.
By the harvester Grayrose raised her phaser, fired twice, and a second drone exploded, its remains careening into a nearby field. The third drone turned to attack again, still wobbling from Grayrose's first shot, and Paris fired hastily. The drone seemed to stop in midair, as though it had run into a brick wall, and then exploded like the others.
"Come on," Grayrose called. "We have to get to the launch site."
Paris scrambled out of the ditch, feeling the bruises and wrenched muscles, and started back to the harvester, Renehan at his heels. In the distance, he saw a flash of light, and then the smoke and flare as yet another drone was destroyed, but one was still circling, bolts raining from its phasers, while the Kirse fired back ineffectually.
"Hurry," Grayrose cried again, and shoved the harvester into motion. Renehan swung herself aboard, and Paris was grateful for her hand as he dragged himself up after her. At least one of the Kirse had been hit, he thought, or at least he thought he saw a gray body huddled beneath the shuttle's wing, and he lifted his phaser.
Renehan caught his arm. "We're too far off. And if they're drones, you're not going to draw fire."
Paris nodded, knowing she was right, and braced himself against the harvester's head, leaning forward as though that could somehow urge the machine to go faster. Grayrose's wings were lifted, shivering with leashed tension, and glancing down Paris could see her fingers almost white on the controls, locking them at their maximums.
Then the final drone exploded, tumbling out of the sky to scatter its remains across the road. Grayrose swerved to avoid the smoking fragments, and pulled the harvester to a stop against the hillside, making sure not to block the cave mouth. Two of the Kirse lay sprawled on the ground beside the shuttle, unmistakably dead, and Paris winced at the sight.
"The shuttles?" Grayrose called, and the third Kirse rose from beside the bodies.
"Undamaged. But without copilots-"
Grayrose made a sound that had to be a curse. Paris, knowing he would regret it, said, "Are these like the one I was in?"
Grayrose looked at him curiously. "Similar enough."
Renehan was looking at him, too, but her expression was one of wry knowledge. "You're out of your mind, Tom."
"Got a better idea?"
"Not really." Renehan glanced over her shoulder, scanning the white sky for more drones, and Paris looked back at Grayrose.
"I know I can fly those shuttles. I saw you do it, I saw the controls, I can handle it."
Grayrose and the other Kirse exchanged looks, and then Grayrose said, "It's not pilots that are needed, but-copilots? Gunners and watchers."
"Watchers?" Renehan asked.
"The field, and the Andirrim counterscreens, they blind most of our sensors," the second Kirse answered. "It takes two to fly the shuttles, one actually to fly, the other to act as eyes. And of course for the guns."
"That's even easier," Paris said. "We can do it, Grayrose." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
Renehan nod in agreement, and gave her a quick smile.
"It-you would probably be safer here." Grayrose sounded reluctant to make the point, and Paris shook his head.
"I don't know, the drones might come back. Or the gardeners, like you said." She was wavering, he knew, and he pressed on. "And you said before, your people needed all their shuttles in the air to fight the Andirrim last time. We're wasting time."
The Kirse exchanged glances again, and then Gray-rose