Surtr was apparently still processing what was taking place. “Those approaching objects are weapons?”
“Yeah.”
“If they hit us, they will cause us damage, perhaps destroy us?”
“That's generally the idea.”
“We must not let that happen. It's too dangerous; we have to stop them, or we have to leave.”
The entity's reaction confused her. No time to think about it now. “Yes, I know. That's what I'm telling you.”
Ondo said, “The nature of space is interesting here. It has to be relevant. It explains the presence of the tunnel, at least.”
She could have screamed. Neither of them appeared to have fully grasped the urgency of their situation. “That's your primary concern right now? The fascinating astrophysical conundrum of the metaspace tunnels rather than the noose of high-g missiles converging on us?”
“You're right, of course,” Ondo replied. “We need to escape, but what I can see suddenly makes a lot of sense.”
“Great. Tell me all about it later. If there is a later.”
She turned her attention to the choreography of starships and missiles. Instinctively, she reached out with her mind to interface with the ship, direct it onto the vectors she needed. It was a weirdly clumsy vessel, bulbous and massive, making it far less manoeuvrable than the Radiant Dragon, but, if she could accelerate it at even half the rate she was used to, there were trajectories that would give them a shot at escaping. Assuming they could translate into metaspace before reaching the halo of Cathedral craft.
A jolting boom thundered through the superstructure of the ship at that moment, sending Ondo sprawling to the floor of the platform.
Surtr stood motionless, apparently able to compensate immediately for the shock. “We have suffered damage.”
“Mines,” said Selene. Concordance must have seeded them round the gateway. Either Surtr hadn't known what they were, or else the devices had been fogged.
Another concussion rumbled through the ship, and this time Surtr staggered too, stepping backwards as if something had physically slammed into its body. Still it hadn't acted. Perhaps it had no idea what it should do. This had to be completely outside of its normal experience.
Selene reached out with her flecks in a desperate attempt to wrest control of the ship from the Aetheral. Once again, there was a moment when something responded, the flicker of a core intelligence like that of the Radiant Dragon opening up to her mind's eye. There was some sense in which the two vessels were related: as well as a sense of dizzying scale, of barely-glimpsed gulfs of computational capacity and gaping aeons of time, there was also a familiar wariness, a hiding-behind-walls. The impression disappeared immediately, shut off from her by barriers she couldn't breach.
She was reduced to shouting at Surtr. They had to take their chances with the mines. “Arc away from the cone, and keep accelerating! We have to jump into metaspace now.”
Surtr said, “Jump to where? Where do we go?” Was there a hint of alarm in its voice? An elevated pitch of anxiety? Perhaps it was only in her ears.
“Anywhere that's not here! Pick a star and aim for it. Pick a gap between the stars, but jump, now.” She pointed in the general direction of the optimal escape vector. “Steer us that way and translate as soon as you can.”
“I will try. We have suffered significant damage, and that cannot be allowed to happen.”
Surtr appeared to have finally come to the correct conclusion, at least. Their acceleration increased. A moment later, she felt a fluttering surge in her stomach, the familiar run-up to a translation. It cut out immediately. The fact was hopeful – it seemed the ship did possess some kind of metaspace drive – but also maddening. Surtr was not in full control of the ship. It couldn't have experimented with a jump even once in its long existence? If she were commanding the ship, they could already have escaped.
“Jump, Aetheral!” she ordered. “We're out of time.”
Another boom thundered through the ship as they struck a third mine. She heard, or perhaps felt, a scream of complaint from somewhere, as if the ship or Surtr were crying out in alarm. Avoiding further strikes was going to be a matter of luck. Meanwhile, the high-g missiles were converging upon them, zeroing in with malevolent determination. A wave of three would strike them first. She had no data on the state of the ship's energy hull – if it even had one – but if it was depleted, one strike could be enough to hole them, blast them to pieces. The effect of three simultaneous hits would surely be cataclysmic. They were moments away from the triple impact.
The fluttering surge filled her stomach again, stronger this time, like leaping from a tall building into the clear air. This time, mercifully, it didn't cut off. Instead, it grew stronger and stronger. She thought it was going to stop abruptly again, but, miraculously, mercifully, it continued.
There came the definite moment of translation, the peak of the rush, and they jumped from normal space in the welcoming safety of the grey void.
It was, also, a partial ghost translation – images of the three missiles, transparent and fading like sketches of the objects rather than the objects themselves, streaked through the ship, one of them passing directly over Selene where she stood. None of them impacted. A few more milliseconds, and ship and missiles would have occupied the same locations in reality. The weapons faded and were gone.
There was a moment of calm on the ship, during which no one spoke. She helped Ondo to his feet, giving him a questioning look to see if he was injured. He reassured her with a smile as he smoothed himself down and combed his hair into slightly-less-wild with his fingers.
Selene spoke first. “Where are you taking us, Aetheral?”
“I am unsure,”
