The Garden - Melissa Scott [99]
Paris risked a glance at her, and saw her gesture, pointing to another shape in her screen.
"That one, the flagship. We're going for it."
"Right," Paris answered, and the shuttle seemed to fall away beneath him. Fire streaked overhead, dazzling him in the fractional instant before the dome darkened to compensate, and then they were past the Andirrim craft. To his surprise, there were no more blasts, and he swung his couch to look back along their path, to see it and the other Andirrim ships caught in a cloud of lights. Kirse shuttles and Andirrim fighters wove a net around each other and the Andirrim ships, fully engaged with each other; ahead, there was only the flagship and a pair of fighters.
"Good odds," he called, but Grayrose said nothing, her hands moving constantly on the banked controls.
The flagship fired, light blossoming beneath the point of its upper edge, but Grayrose swung the shuttle easily aside, and the bolt passed harmlessly. She evaded the next two with equal ease, but the third came close enough for the field corona to strike the shuttle's shields, and yellow lights flared across Paris's boards. Most of them flickered out again almost at once, but two remained, flashing slow but steady beneath the section of the controls that Grayrose had told him was reserved for the main computer.
"Trouble," he called, and Grayrose answered instantly.
"I see it. Nothing I can't handle."
I hope so, Paris thought, and shoved the words aside as the starscape spun outside the dome and suddenly they were alongside the flagship, close enough to see the protrusions and alien installations that covered its dulled surface. The firing stopped-either they were out of range, inside the system's limits, Paris thought, or they were clearing the way for their fighters. Or
both. He spun his couch again, scanning the stars and the flagship's side, and two blue dots popped into sight, spinning down over the flagship's upper edge. He slapped the tracking keys, felt the shuttle turn in response, and brought the phasers to bear, firing as the dots crossed the crosshairs. His first shot missed, and the shuttle rocked as the fighters' phasers slammed into the shields. They held, but one of the yellow lights began to flash more quickly.
"That one," Grayrose called. "That light. When it steadies, we have no more shields."
"Great," Paris said, and fired again. He hit the second fighter head-on, but it came on through the cloud of fire, possibly damaged, but still firing.
"I'm taking us to the stern," Grayrose went on. "The flagship's shields are weaker there-see."
Paris fired yet again, more to keep the fighters at bay than in any real hope of hitting them, and glanced sideways to see a patch of pale yellow light superimposed on the flagship's flank. It pulsed with the same ominous beat as the light on his own console, and Paris instantly swung the control yoke to fire at it. The light seemed to strengthen, but warning chimes sounded from behind him, and he swung back to fire wildly at the diving fighters. He missed, but spoiled their aim, and the shuttle rocked only from the impact of the bolt corona. He fired again, more carefully, as the second fighter dove past, and had the satisfaction of seeing something fly loose from its warty surface. It disappeared behind the flagship, but an instant later its symbol vanished from his display.
"Concentrate on the flagship," Grayrose cried. "We can stand the fighter. Break the shield and launch the torpedo."
Obediently, Paris swung his controls, centering the crosshairs on the weakened patch on the Andirrim's
shields. He fired, holding the stud down for what seemed an interminable time, and felt the shuttle rock under him. The yellow light