Prophets

vibration stopped, but the acceleration continued.

“The engine’s going to burn until the computer thinks we’re clear,” she yelled above the sound of the engine. The acceleration wasn’t painful, two, maybe two and a half gees. But it kept going. And going.

God, how much delta-V does this lifeboat need?

She didn’t know the full specs on the Eclipse’s lifeboats, but it was very unlikely that they packed more than a few minutes’ worth of fuel. The job of the disposable engines on these things was to get the lifeboat clear of dangerous debris, and if possible maneuver the boat toward rescue . . .

Or a habitable planet.

The acceleration cut out, leaving them both in free fall again. Over the PA system a computer-generated voice said flatly, “Three hours until atmospheric insertion.”

“Atmospheric insertion?” Nickolai said. His voice was a little bubbly, blood massing at the corner of his mouth.

“The lifeboat’s going to try and land us,” Kugara said, undoing the straps holding her to the acceleration couch. “So much for Tsoravitch’s communications and landing protocols.”

She pulled herself over to the console by the door, hoping to get some feedback on the state of the Eclipse, how fast they were going, and the integrity of the lifeboat. The little display wasn’t that accommodating, giving her little more than the fact that inside was oxygen, outside was hard vacuum.

Not that she could have done anything if the lifeboat was damaged. The lifeboat was going to burn off its velocity hitting atmosphere until the boat was slowed enough for the drag chutes to deploy. If either the shielding or the chutes had been damaged, their reentry would be painful and short.

She looked up at Nickolai and realized that even if the lifeboat worked perfectly, his ride would still be painful and short. He’d been severely beaten by the two-G escape from the Eclipse. If this thing hit atmosphere, it was going to go in ass-first and pull a lot more than two Gs deceleration, and it was going to be a hell of a lot rougher.

“I’m going to have to get you into one of the crash couches.”

Nickolai laughed. “You should leave me here. I’m not going to fit in a human cradle.”

“Maybe if you were bound to the right wall.”

“Leave me here.” Nickolai spat, and an oblong glob of blood and saliva went on a tumbling slow-motion odyssey toward the nominal ceiling.

Kugara pulled herself down to one of the emergency panels under the folded-up cot and ejected the medkit. Probably going to need this when we land, if we survive. “Do that, and we reenter the atmosphere, if your skull isn’t turned to jelly slamming into the bulkhead, your internal organs are probably going to be perforated on the splinters that used to be the right side of your rib cage.”

“So? I betrayed you all. Why should you care what happens to me?”

“Your damned Angel has too much blood on her hands already to just let someone die out of spite.” She pulled out a cutter from the emergency medkit. It was designed to liberate victims from damaged environment suits or, in a pinch, more substantial wreckage. The shiny fifteen-centimeter crystalline blade was designed to vibrate through most inorganic materials and leave flesh intact.

She pulled herself up in front of the tiger and said, “Don’t make me regret this.”

She started with his legs, slicing through the sealant tape. The knife hummed in her hands as she traced the outlines of his thigh and his calf. The tape came free in small segments, which she plucked from the air and pressed to the wall. Fortunately for Nickolai, the sealant tape only bonded to synthetic material, so she didn’t pull free patches of fur with the tape. She worked her way up to his waist and for the first time found herself disconcerted by the fact that Nickolai didn’t wear any clothing.

His balls are as furry as the rest of him. She had to snort to keep herself from an uncharacteristic giggle.

“Are you all right?” Nickolai asked. His voice was still slurred from the blood pooling in his mouth.

You’re asking me? “I’m fine.”

She wondered if she should check the oxy levels in the lifeboat. Not that it mattered; either there was enough and the recycler was working or they were screwed. More things are getting to me than lack of air.