Free This Old Rock by G. David Nordley

is at stake. This situation is my responsibility, and I have chosen
to keep the Project on profile. On our friendship, please honor that choice.
    Wait—much longer, this time, than required for just the
light speed delay.
    I understand what is at stake. If it were my
responsibility, I would, I hope, have the courage to choose as you have. But we
will do everything we can short of affecting the project to get you out of
there. The net has been launched; it should arrive three hours before impact.
The planetoid will still be half as far away as the moon is from Earth. If
everything holds, it should get enough delta-v to just graze Martin’s
atmosphere. Roche forces will pull the planetoid apart, but the net may hold it
together for a while. We can’t tell whether it will be captured or not—too many
uncertainties.
    You’re giving me some hope, anyway. Between that and the
relief shuttle, I’m going to assume I’ll make it, Liz answered.
    Liz had kept walking as she talked. David’s helmet light
glowed softly, nearer and nearer.
    When she got there, that was all there was—the helmet light.
    Where’s David? she asked the robots.
    The one designated “Alpha” answered. We have a command
authority conflict .
    “Chaos!” Liz struggled to regain her temper.
    Cyan, could you reset the command authority override on
my robots? David has pulled another fast one on me.
    Wait, agonizingly long.
    Done. Use the prefix “Sunbeam” if you have any more
problems.
    Thanks.
    To the robots: Sunbeam. Where’s David?
    Mr. Levi is proceeding on foot to the lake. He apparently
has a trank antidote.
    No kidding! Keep him in sight. I’m following.
    Liz, Cyan. We can still boost the net a little more.
    Chaos, Liz thought. Why couldn’t they just let the decision
stand?
    No, Cyan. Thank you, but no. The whole thing’s chancy and
the last thing I’d want is to screw up the Project and get killed.
    Wait.
    Liz! Judi Lalande broke the quiet. In one hour, we
can no longer accelerate the net. Martin’s moon is getting in the way.
    Yes, Judi, Liz here. I understand. I may end up seeing
this explosion first hand. You know what? I’m not scared. It’s like letting go.
Liberating in a way. What will happen will happen. I accept that.
    Silence. It gave her a momentary chill. Would they respect
her wishes? She tried to contemplate her humiliation if they did not and the
Project got screwed up. Much better to die a martyr. She smiled to herself.
Risky behavior was nothing new to her, and here it was, the ultimate. Triumph
or die. No. Triumph and die. Glory.
    As if floating on air, Liz started running towards David.
There was still time to grab him and at least get away from Martin, she
thought. But if not, glory.
    She stopped bouncing and opened a radio channel to David.
    “David. What’s going to happen is going to happen. There’s
nothing more that anyone can physically do. The net is on its way; we should be
able to see the intercept. It may work. Meanwhile there’s a crewless shuttle on
its way to take us off. It may get here in time even if the net doesn’t work.
There’s no point in running from me anymore.”
    “I can’t believe you.”
    Liz looked up into the sky and asked for a reticular circle
where the net was. It floated in front of her eyes at infinity, a faint red
circle. There, in its center, was a tiny spider web. “David, believe your own
eyes then. Look up. In Ursa Major, a little left of Mizar and Alcor, there’s a
faint, tiny web.”
    It grew even as she watched. Liz touched the net. Forty
minutes until impact. Even without additional boost from the Project projectors,
the device was traveling at a hundred and thirty kilometers a second.
    Maybe too fast, she realized. She looked at the projections;
ninety percent of the net cords were predicted to fail on impact. Would the
remaining ten percent be enough? Things would stretch, of course.
    David materialized from the dark into the glow of her helmet
light. “You