Crescent, her gillie reporting on the battle between the Linda Terry and the warpods, grappled a small asteroid with the taxi’s arms and zigzagged through the horde toward the station.
Her gillie spoke up. The asteroid at thirty degrees to starboard is a good one to get behind. You should have a visual of the station from there.
Crescent aimed for the asteroid, then stopped next to it. She eased the taxi forward until she could see the station. She also saw something remarkable. On the lower ring, there was someone outside in a pressure suit, and climbing out of the main hatch were three crowhoppers, identified by their black armor.
My former owner, the gillie said. On the station, lower ring.
Crescent’s mouth dropped open. “That’s Maria in the pressure suit?”
Yes. She is untethered. She should know better than that.
“Maybe she forgot it.” Crescent, not believing her luck, drove the taxi forward. The crowhoppers were slowly working their way down the ladder of the central core of the station. “We’ve got to hit the bridge with this rock first. Aim me, Gillie.”
Go five miles out. Suitable velocity of the asteroid must be attained for it to penetrate the bridge structure.
Crescent drove out five miles, then turned around. “Gillie, can you sync me with Maria’s suit comm?”
Of course. I already did. You may speak to her at any time. But first yaw five degrees to starboard, pitch eight degrees down. Then full throttle until I tell you to release.
Crescent pushed the taxi’s throttle forward. The station began to grow in size as she barreled down an invisible track.
Release, release, release!
Crescent released the big rock, then looped around to watch what happened. She just had a glimpse of startled faces in the viewports of the bridge before it struck. The bridge caved in at impact, its viewports shattered or popped out. The air inside rushed through them, the moisture inside turning into a gray sheet before disappearing.
As Crescent flew by, a body floated out of the bridge. It was wearing a coppery tunic. Then she saw another body in a black Legionnaire’s uniform. By its gold stripes, she recognized it as an officer. She flew the taxi down the length of the station, passing the three crowhoppers who had stopped on the ladder and were gawking at her. She reached the lower ring and slid up next to Maria Medaris. “Hop aboard,” she said. “The Lunar Rescue Company has arrived. Tips are appreciated.”