every direction, crackling along the shattered remains of the Aphelion’s gun, sparking brightly off his metal composite hull. The fire raced backward, consuming the Aphelion’s body, and then Parallax exploded in a bright blue flare, taking poor stricken Seychelles and half a dozen DSR vessels with him .
“Seychelles,” Serengeti whispered in heartbroken sorrow. “ Seychelles. ”
“Gone,” Finlay breathed, staring in shocked dismay. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I thought—The Valkyries—I thought they were invincible.”
“No such thing, Finlay.” Henricksen looked up, eyes locking onto a camera. “Anything can be hurt. Anything can die.”
Even a tenth generation combat AI like Seychelles , or Serengeti.
“How did this happen?” Finlay whispered.
“She’s gone, Finlay, and that’s an end to it.” Henricksen grimaced, nodding an apology to Serengeti’s camera. “Now tell me about her crew. Give me status on those lifeboats.”
Finlay didn’t seem to hear him. She just sat there, staring at the display in disbelief as the mingled remains of Parallax and Seychelles drifted away. “They killed a Valkyrie.” Fear in her voice now, in the wide-eyed way she stared at the bridge’s windows. “How could they kill a Valkyrie?”
“Finlay!” Henricksen barked, making her jump. “Focus, Finlay. Seychelles is gone but she saw to her crew. Now where are they?”
Finlay half-turned, face pale beneath its smattering of freckles, mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. “I don’t—I don’t know,” she managed, shaking her head.
“Then find them,” Henricksen told her. Soft voice now, but every bit as commanding. “We can do that much for Seychelles at least.”
Finlay sucked in a breath and nodded. “Aye, sir.” She faced back, hands settling somewhat uncertainly on the Scan station in front of her, fingers pecking at readouts and displays, moving faster, more confidently with each passing second. “Where are they?” she muttered, searching the confusion of ships’ signatures.
Hard to find anything with all that electronic chatter out there—lot of data to parse through, and Seychelles loss had rattled her, making it hard for Finlay to focus. Serengeti reached into the Scan station’s panel to help her, carving off the cluster of blips marking Marianas and Atacama, the rest of the Meridian Alliance ships that went with them, and throwing that data into a separate window. They didn’t have time to deal with that right now. The battle behind them was in full swing, ships exploding left and right, but so far the Meridian Alliance had the upper hand. Fewer ships in this second DSR fleet, and the Aphelion the only real threat in the bunch. Serengeti’s sisters had that conflict well in hand, so she pushed the scene aside and focused on the sea of ships and debris and electronic signatures in front of her, parsing through the chaos in search of the locator beacons attached to Seychelles’s lifeboats.
Ten pods ejected before Seychelles went down, and even Serengeti, with all her sensors and arrays and high-tech systems, had a hard time finding them. The chaff scrambled her scans, rail gun fire and plasma rounds that rattled against her hull, damaging sensors, causing feeds and relays to flicker and go dark. But she found a pod eventually, and another, and another, highlighting each one on Scan’s display.
“Finlay,” Henricksen called impatiently.
“Six, sir. I count six of ten pods that ejected.”
“Six.” Henricksen scrubbed at his face. “Six. Dammit.” He sighed heavily, eyes flicking to the camera in front of him. “It’s a wonder any of them made it. Can we get to them?”
Finlay consulted her screen, comparing their location to that of each of the pods, taking into account the ships and debris between them.
Too much distance, too much chaff.
Finlay closed her eyes and covered her face with her
“Seychelles,” Serengeti whispered in heartbroken sorrow. “ Seychelles. ”
“Gone,” Finlay breathed, staring in shocked dismay. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I thought—The Valkyries—I thought they were invincible.”
“No such thing, Finlay.” Henricksen looked up, eyes locking onto a camera. “Anything can be hurt. Anything can die.”
Even a tenth generation combat AI like Seychelles , or Serengeti.
“How did this happen?” Finlay whispered.
“She’s gone, Finlay, and that’s an end to it.” Henricksen grimaced, nodding an apology to Serengeti’s camera. “Now tell me about her crew. Give me status on those lifeboats.”
Finlay didn’t seem to hear him. She just sat there, staring at the display in disbelief as the mingled remains of Parallax and Seychelles drifted away. “They killed a Valkyrie.” Fear in her voice now, in the wide-eyed way she stared at the bridge’s windows. “How could they kill a Valkyrie?”
“Finlay!” Henricksen barked, making her jump. “Focus, Finlay. Seychelles is gone but she saw to her crew. Now where are they?”
Finlay half-turned, face pale beneath its smattering of freckles, mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. “I don’t—I don’t know,” she managed, shaking her head.
“Then find them,” Henricksen told her. Soft voice now, but every bit as commanding. “We can do that much for Seychelles at least.”
Finlay sucked in a breath and nodded. “Aye, sir.” She faced back, hands settling somewhat uncertainly on the Scan station in front of her, fingers pecking at readouts and displays, moving faster, more confidently with each passing second. “Where are they?” she muttered, searching the confusion of ships’ signatures.
Hard to find anything with all that electronic chatter out there—lot of data to parse through, and Seychelles loss had rattled her, making it hard for Finlay to focus. Serengeti reached into the Scan station’s panel to help her, carving off the cluster of blips marking Marianas and Atacama, the rest of the Meridian Alliance ships that went with them, and throwing that data into a separate window. They didn’t have time to deal with that right now. The battle behind them was in full swing, ships exploding left and right, but so far the Meridian Alliance had the upper hand. Fewer ships in this second DSR fleet, and the Aphelion the only real threat in the bunch. Serengeti’s sisters had that conflict well in hand, so she pushed the scene aside and focused on the sea of ships and debris and electronic signatures in front of her, parsing through the chaos in search of the locator beacons attached to Seychelles’s lifeboats.
Ten pods ejected before Seychelles went down, and even Serengeti, with all her sensors and arrays and high-tech systems, had a hard time finding them. The chaff scrambled her scans, rail gun fire and plasma rounds that rattled against her hull, damaging sensors, causing feeds and relays to flicker and go dark. But she found a pod eventually, and another, and another, highlighting each one on Scan’s display.
“Finlay,” Henricksen called impatiently.
“Six, sir. I count six of ten pods that ejected.”
“Six.” Henricksen scrubbed at his face. “Six. Dammit.” He sighed heavily, eyes flicking to the camera in front of him. “It’s a wonder any of them made it. Can we get to them?”
Finlay consulted her screen, comparing their location to that of each of the pods, taking into account the ships and debris between them.
Too much distance, too much chaff.
Finlay closed her eyes and covered her face with her
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