The Black Gate (The Messenger #11) - J.N. Chaney Page 0,19

done.”

Dash chuckled. “Sentinel, tell Benzel and Lomas about the change of plan. Leira’s going to be my wing for this. Leira, we launch in thirty seconds.”

“I’m ready to go when you are,” Leira replied.

The chrono ticked down, and Dash applied power, accelerating toward the Deeper ship on an intercepting trajectory. Leira emerged from her hidden spot in the Kuiper Belt and powered toward him on a converging course.

The threat board, which had been only acknowledging the approach of the alien ship, lit up with more urgent warnings.

“Looks like they’ve seen us already. Their sensors have gone active,” Dash said.

“Guess they’re not happy to see us,” Leira replied. “That would explain the umpteen missiles they just launched.”

Dash grunted assent and studied the tactical display. He’d gone active with the Archetype’s scanners. Thanks to their earlier encounter with the Deepers, Sentinel was able to fine-tune the system to resolve the picture and burn through the Deepers’ stealth more effectively. He could see Leira was right—a barrage of missiles had been loosed at them, and they were big bastards, like the one that had attacked Assembly Prime, not the smaller, far more nimble projectiles that had been used by the Golden, or that they employed themselves.

“Sentinel, how are we against x-rays? Similar to the kind that hit Bercale’s people?” Dash asked.

“Any sufficiently powerful energy input, delivered quickly enough, risks overwhelming the Archetype’s defenses. However, I’ve configured the shield to increase its opacity to x-rays, and I judge that our armor, and the protective hardening of the Archetype’s systems against EMP, are sufficient to keep us in the fight for a while.”

“A while? How long is a while?”

“It depends on too many factors to give a specific time, such as whatever clever tactics you might pull out of your excretory system.”

“My ass. The term is my ass. If you’re going to start being saucy, at least do it right.”

“I prefer my term. It makes the phrase uniquely mine. And the enemy missiles will be entering extreme weapons range in thirty seconds.”

“Got it.” Dash looked for Leira. She was about ten thousand klicks off, still on a converging course.

“Leira, those big missiles won’t maneuver well at all. Let’s not waste time and weapons punching every one of them out. We burn through and pass them as fast as we can, then get in close to the ship itself.”

“Snuggle in close, got it.”

“Not my chosen term, but sure, get close and be ready.” Dash grinned and checked his tactical display.

The enemy missiles seemed to be equipped with some AI tech—not dumb, but not fully autonomous, either. They’d configured themselves into a simple wall of oncoming projectiles, spread far enough apart that no matter how they tried to dodge, the swarm would be able to intercept. But something else caught his eye. The missiles weren’t just a wall, they were also staggered, some closer, some further back.

Of course.

“Leira, close up to ten klicks or so,” Dash said.

“When I said tight, I didn’t mean piggybacking our mechs. You sure?”

“Yeah. We’re going to angle away and up from the ecliptic, then change course at the last minute and dive right into the middle of that missile swarm.”

“Uh . . . okay. That doesn’t sound dangerous at all.”

“Trust me.”

Dash veered the Archetype upward from the ecliptic, at the same time angling slightly toward Leira’s track, letting her converge more quickly. Then he fired a salvo of missiles that streaked off toward the fringe of the oncoming missile swarm, following up with dark-lance shots at the same targets.

“Thought you said we’re going through the middle,” Leira said.

“We are. But we don’t want these assholes to know it until it’s too late.”

He and Leira both fired now, mostly missing, but landing a few hits and knocking down three of the enemy missiles with their hail of metal and beam weapons. Dash’s salvo raced in, their warheads detonating in the same part of the swarm, taking out four more. A huge gap had opened in the top edge of the Deeper missile salvo, as though something vast had taken a bite out of it.

“They’re awfully slow to deal with that hole in their line,” Leira noted.

Dash nodded. “Of course they are.”

The two mechs, now only a few klicks apart, raced past another Kuiper Belt object, a slab of rock the size of a mountain, then started their final approach toward the oncoming missiles.

“Okay, Sentinel,” Dash said. “In about . . . let’s say forty-five seconds, we’re going to be maneuvering hard. I want