Free Titan's Fall by Zachary Brown Page B

tensed, waiting for the jumpship to rip itself apart.
    â€œAmira?”
    â€œFuck, I know,” she said, sounding rattled. “I’m trying to line us up. I’m doing the best I can, but the software is struggling with all the damage and I’m not a pilot; I have no idea how much we can push this. So, we might not make it up. And there might not be anyone there when we get there. But I know I can get us back down to ground.”
    I was sure the rip in the hull near me had gotten wider. “We should ask on the common channel.”
    â€œOh, really, Lieutenant, it’s suddenly a democracy in here after all those orders you’ve given out of late?”
    â€œI gave everyone an option at the jumpships on the ground, and I notice you stayed. That was your choice,” I said.
    Amira grunted. “You two idiots would have killed yourselvesdown there without me. After all we’ve been through, you’re the closest thing I have to family.”
    â€œSergeant Singh, are you getting all sentimental on me?” I asked. One of the other squad leaders snorted and tried to smother it.
    â€œI’ve had to carry your asses so much, I feel like a mother duck,” Amira said. Then on the common channel: “Hey, everyone, I need you to make a choice: up or down.” She outlined the situation as she began to point the jumpship slightly up, gaining more altitude.
    There was silence for a while.
    â€œThat’s a hard call to make,” someone said.
    â€œYou have ten seconds to aye or nay it,” Amira said. “Then our launch window closes.”
    With a loud shriek, a panel ripped away from the top of the jumpship. I looked up toward the purple darkness of space above us. It looked like an electrical storm far overhead, with lightning dancing from spot to spot in the vacuum up there. It lit up gas clouds, like miniature nebula.
    Then one of the tiny dots lit up, the explosion slowly expanding. A ship exploding. I realized the clouds were debris, all backdropped by the massive bulk of Saturn looming over us all, making our life-or-death battles seem insignificant.
    â€œThree, two,” Amira said.
    â€œPunch it!” I shouted. “Go, go!”
    The jumpship tilted slightly higher and the Accordance-made engines kicked on hard. People clattered around the cabin as a whirlwind kicked up inside. Everything shook hard enough to blur vision. Some started repeating a phrase in a language I didn’t recognize, but I knew what they were doing: praying.
    After a few terrifying minutes of acceleration, the jumpshiprolled over onto its back. An engineer screamed and someone tried to grab at them, and then they were sucked clear out of a new gap in the ship’s frame. The yellow figure kicked and wiggled in the air as they fell away behind us.
    We were riding the skeleton of a ship to orbit.
    +  +  +  +
    The engines kicked out. Titan’s clouds passed far underneath us and the curve of the planet-like moon could be seen on the horizon.
    â€œWe’re still alive,” Min Zhao marveled.
    â€œAmira?”
    â€œShut up and don’t talk to me. Orbit mechanics suck .” The jumpship spun around and the engines fired up, nudging us back down toward the clouds a bit. Then it shifted again, pointing forward and firing. Amira was constantly changing orbit.
    Occasionally, Amira would swear.
    The entire horizon lit up, something white-hot blazing away. It started to move, gathering speed, and then faded off into the dark. Then another blinding spot did the same.
    â€œCarriers making a run for it,” Ken said.
    â€œHold on,” Amira said. “They’re coming for us.”
    â€œI don’t see anything.” I looked out the numerous holes in the jumpship around us.
    â€œThere we go,” Tony Chin said from closer to the front.
    Something slipped across the darkness between us and Saturn. Inky blackness slipped off its