‘Norman!’ Tim yelled.
No response. Not even when a shower of fizzing shrapnel scored the ground all round him. He’d been right about the camera. Though the incoming fire was still well aimed, it no longer had the pinpoint accuracy of before. Already, the five weakened impact points had lost their angry red appearance, dropping back to a deeper orange as the shield regenerated. But the withering attack continued. He might have stopped them working at the weakened points, but the shield as a whole was still taking a tremendous pounding.
‘Norman!’
Tim looked round for support, but the others were focussed on Ludokrus sprinting up the gully. He must have heard what Norman said about the signpost because he lashed out with a foot as he passed by, shearing the partly rotted timber off at the base. It fell to the ground. Hope board flew into the air while Sanity was driven into the earth by the weight of the falling post. Ludokrus ran on.
Directly below the exit passage, Ludokrus took cover behind some boulders and studied the rock face above. The way up was rough, steep and stony. And very exposed. It was close to the attacking ship too. He could hear the whine of its thrusters and stabilisers, a constant roar beneath the intermittent sound of its guns. It would only take a single shot to finish him. Even if they missed, even if they just dislodged some of the loose rock above, he’d be done for. Still, it always had been a suicide mission. And it really was their only hope. He took a breath and continued on.
‘Oh my god, what’s he doing?’ Coral pressed her hands to her face.
Tim watched too, his fallen friend forgotten for a moment as Ludokrus sprang from cover, tripped and stumbled on a piece of the shattered signpost, then pounded up the scree almost directly beneath the Sentinels’ ship. It seemed impossible. There was no way he’d make it even halfway without being noticed.
A distraction, Tim thought. He needs a distraction.
With that he leapt from the ditch and sprinted for the hut.
‘Tim!’
* * *
‘Another one. Oh please!’
‘Concentrate. Work first, play later. Finish off the ship.’
* * *
Miraculously, incomprehensibly, the shot he’d been expecting never came, but Ludokrus didn’t pause to wonder at his luck and dived straight into the gloomy, glass-smooth exit passage. His momentum and the gentle incline carried him to the end where he was stopped abruptly by the mining laser’s tripod, now a permanent fixture, welded to the floor with lava.
His outstretched hand took most of the impact, but he still managed to crack his head on one of the legs. He got to his feet. A trickle of blood ran down his face. He brushed it aside and felt about in the dark. The laser cutter lay where he’d left it, propped on some stones. He grabbed it and hauled it to the exit, straining at the weight. Then he got a shoulder behind it and pushed for all he was worth.
* * *
Tim reached Norman’s sprawled form and threw himself flat as another barrage struck the Eltherian ship. A fragment of shrapnel fizzed through the air above him, practically parting his hair.
‘Oi!’ He shook Norman’s shoulder.
Norman groaned.
‘You’re alive then,’ Tim muttered, grabbing his ankles and dragging him back into the comparative shelter of what was left of the hut.
* * *
Ludokrus felt around the laser’s chassis and flicked on the power switch, knowing it would take twenty seconds to build the necessary charge. The steady whine began at once, rising slowly, and he counted off the seconds as he pushed towards the exit.
There was no time for proper positioning. He’d reached fifteen already by the time he got there, but the Sentinel ship was in sight, its squat shape hovering almost directly overhead. He paused, aiming the heavy instrument as best he could.
Sixteen ... seventeen ...
The charging whine, shrill now, faded. He aimed and zoomed the beam.
Eighteen ... nineteen ... twenty ...
Nothing. He thought he’d bumped the Off switch or damaged something in his haste to push it up the shaft.
... twenty-one ... twenty-two ...
Still nothing. A wave of despair ran through him. No! It couldn’t be ... Then he realised that in his excitement he’d been counting too quickly.
Phmmm.
The glassy walls flickered crimson. He snatched his fingers from the cooling fins and saw a faint red flash strike one corner of the Sentinel ship, making it shudder and dip as if caught by an unexpected gust of wind.
‘Ha!’ he muttered.
As he hoped, they hadn’t bothered with their own shields. Why would they, attacking a defenceless lifeboat? He imagined them scrambling with their controls, trying to work out what had happened. With a bit of luck he might get in one more shot before they spotted him.
* * *
‘Ooo, fireworks!’ Norman sat up dreamily as another volley struck the ship, scattering sparking fragments like a geyser.
‘Get down, you idiot,’ Tim yelled. ‘I think you’re concussed.’
‘I can what?’
‘You’ve had a whack on the head. We’ve got to get out of here. Can you stand? Can you run?’
‘Where to?’
‘Over there. The ditch.’
Norman staggered to his feet, saw Alkemy’s anxious face peering at them and waved. ‘Hey, Althingy!’
A white-hot fragment whizzed between them.
‘Norman, concentrate!’
‘Why?’
‘Because they’re shooting at us!’
‘Not doing a very good job. Look. Ha, ha, missed again.’
Tim felt like slapping him which, since he was already concussed, really wouldn’t help.
* * *
The guns started up again. Further down the valley, Ludokrus saw the deflection splashes from his ship’s shields. Its whole outline was now visible, glowing an ominous orange. It wouldn’t hold out much longer. Another minute, tops. He had to get this right.
Basic starship layout always followed certain principles, it didn’t matter who the builders were. Component placement was governed by physics and efficiency — at least in primitive craft like the one in front of him — but he couldn’t remember whether the stabiliser was the domed unit on the side or that boxy thing near the back.
‘Come on,’ he told himself, ‘you know this. You build many model when you are young.’
The mining laser was too heavy to hold, so he balled up his jacket as a support and set it in the mouth of the tunnel. Then he stretched out behind it, studying the target.
The domed unit. It was bigger and an easier shot.
Another portion of his brain counted the seconds between recharging. Slower this time.
Fifteen ... sixteen ...
He aligned the cross-hairs and hit the Lock button. Checked again, made sure his hands were clear of the cooling fins, reached nineteen, then heard the model-builder part of his brain shout, ‘No, it’s the boxy thing!’
He jammed the laser hard left, sighted down its side and released the lock button a fraction of a second before he felt the phmmm.
A puff of blue smoke was the only visible damage on the underside of the Sentinel ship.
Did he get it wrong after all?
Then the boxy unit started glowing as if lit from inside. Oily black smoke vented from the hole.
The Sentinel ship shuddered and swayed, rocking like a boat in a storm. A moment later it swivelled in his direction. They’d evidently been scanning for the source of the incoming fire.
Ludokrus didn’t hesitate. He locked the cutter’s targeting computer once more, vaulted over it, and sprinted down the scree, running diagonally, hoping to draw fire away from the tunnel. With a bit of luck, the laser cutter would get in one more shot.
The slope was steep. He stumbled, slipped, regained his footing and sprinted on as a barrage of shots vaporised the sheer face above, bringing down a thunderous avalanche of rock that roared towards him.