Free The Forever Hero by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

ships had been poised to destroy each other.
    As he wrestled with the implications, he continued to watch the representational screens, to listen to the comm bands and to wait as the Fordin began to slow in her approach to the nearer satellite.
    â€œPleutfiere, Empire sur transit Gyros…”
    â€œNew Jerusalem, Faust has struck. Michael has been cast down. EDI tracks indicate course shift…”
    â€œTrahison! Couvrey des plaques! Comprennez? Des plaques de Janus et de Gyros…”
    â€œâ€¦norstada nil…premiere…Gyros…”
    â€œCadet Gerswin, Chief Alvera. Specs for maximum surface damage on Gyros, centered on the landing traps and the linear accelerator.”
    â€œStet,” answered Alvera.
    Gerswin said nothing. He looked sideways at the tech, whose movements were slower now, not quick or jerky.
    â€œHellburner?”
    â€œNot much else. Not enough sealing power in a tachead. Probably take an above surface burst, about five kays. Maybe two. Depends on terrain and separation.”
    Gerswin opened his mouth to ask why, but remembered his earlier conversation with the major and shut his mouth without saying a word.
    â€œGood thought, Cadet,” murmured Alvera in a voice low enough not to be heard beyond their consoles. “Good thought.”
    Gerswin sighed silently and began to run the problem off on his own console. As he finished, he saw Alvera was waiting.
    â€œLet’s compare.”
    Gerswin shrugged and studied Alvera’s solution. Both had recommended two mid-class burners with a five kay separation and a three kay burst height.
    â€œLooks about the same,” he commented to Alvera.
    â€œAbout identical.” Alvera raised his head and touched the transmit stud.
    â€œCadet Gerswin, do you concur?”
    â€œMy solution is identical to the chief’s, Major.”
    â€œDo you concur?” There was an edge to the velvet voice.
    â€œYes, ser.”
    Gerswin and Alvera sat side by side, neither looking at the other nor talking, but silently viewing the screens and the symbols as they changed.
    Gerswin listened to the intermittent transmissions whispering from the comm link, like ghosts about to flee at morning light.
    The Fordin shuddered faintly, once, twice.
    â€œBurners away.”
    This time the representational screen showed nothing, nothing except the number two followed by a single symbol, both next to the disc labeled “Gyros.”
    Gerswin shifted his weight, beginning to feel stiff after nearly three hours hunched before a single console.
    â€œCadet Gerswin, prepare the specs for a similar interdiction pattern for Janus. Key seven for background. Chief Alvera will verify before you transmit.”
    â€œYes, ser.”
    Another set of hellburners? For what? Another dome and burrow mining and heavy industry settlement on an isolated satellite? For perhaps five thousand, ten thousand people?
    Despite his deliberate pace, the equations were easy. Three hellburners—there were two lines of steep hills separating the landing traps, the accelerator, and the comm complex—at a height of one point five kays.
    Alvera nodded.
    Gerswin transmitted.
    â€œDo you concur, Chief Alvera?”
    â€œYes, ser.”
    Gerswin listened as he waited for the Fordin to complete her creeping approach to Janus, or for his watch to end. But the comm bands were less active now, only a distant garbled whisper or so.
    â€œâ€¦got…Michael…out Gyros…”
    â€œâ€¦fiela…trahit…Demetros…”
    The blinking of a green blip caught his attention, and he concentrated on the representational screen. The blinking green was the Saladin . Had been the Saladin , Gerswin realized as the light flared red and white and vanished, to be replaced with a subscripted line at the bottom of the screen.
    â€œMajor said this one would be nasty,” muttered Alvera.
    Gerswin did not even shake his head. He