Free Guardsmen of Tomorrow by Martin H. & Segriff Greenberg, Larry Segriff Page A

burning lance across the dark of space.
    The remaining five also changed formation. One took point and came straight for him; two moved to attack from the port side; two more from starboard.
    Archangel’s computer addressed him. The Via Dolorosa had accepted the encoded priority override. Archangel now controlled the ice-wagon, and the lumbering vessel was turning.
    “Get it the hell out of here!” Dawes muttered as much to himself as to his computer.
    He thought of the five thousand people whose lives depended on him, of Straf’s sleeping parents, all unaware of the danger unfolding.
    He drew a deep breath, and stroked a finger along Hookah’s back. “Okay, little fella,” he said, “it’s you and me.” And, he added silently, the finest ship ever designed. He resisted a laugh. For the first time in three years he felt alive!
    He raced toward the aliens’ point-ship. It fired on him, but from a distance beyond the effective range of its weaponry. On the Archangel’s instrument panel, an energy spike registered, then dropped off sharply. Archangel was untouched.
    “My turn.” He brought the Kleinowskis on-line and counted down ten seconds. Ever closer he drew to the alien point-ship. Then, “ Archangel , fire!”
    The Kleinowski planet-killers drew on the translight engines for their power. That had no effect on the vessel’s present velocity, however. Across space twin beams of searing light stabbed. The Kaxfen ship exploded in a titanic fireball. Archangel sailed through the heart of its vaporizing debris. Dawes watched it all in grim black-and-white.
    He placed his palm on the communications console. “Attention, Kaxfen ships,” he said with a calm he didn’t feel. “Break off your attack. The sublight vessel you came for is under my protection. Break off now!” He grinned suddenly as Hookah gave him an exploratory view of the in-side of his left ear. He took the creature in one hand and pointed it at the view screen.
    Archangel’s computer informed him-the four alien ships continued to close. One of them fired, still too far away to effectively harm him. He touched the communications console again.
    “Final warning,” he said. “Break off. Or I will seriously fuck you where it hurts the most.” He shrugged, wondering where that might be on alien anatomy.
    Though he kept the communications channel open, no response came from the Kaxfen ships. They plunged toward him, drawing their squeeze play tight. An energy beam lanced across the bow.
    A clean miss. However, Archangel estimated the aliens were now within weapons range to inflict damage.
    “Looks like they need another demonstration,” Dawes instructed the computer.
    “Target the vessel that just fired on us and destroy it.”
    A second time the Kleinowski planet-killers lanced outward. To starboard, a Kaxfen ship went nova in a horribly beautiful twinkling of disintegrating debris. But unlike the first time, the Archangel shuddered as its lasers fired.
    “What was that?” Dawes demanded. His vision reeled suddenly with rapid views of the console, the view screen, the back of the cabin, his own nervous face. Hookah squirmed in Dawes’ too-tight grip. He forced himself to relax; he returned Hookah to his shoulder and stroked the creature to calm it. “Sorry,” he apologized.
    Archangel was speaking. The planet-killers were offline-cause undetermined.
    Dawes slammed his fist down on the instrument console. At the same instant, another energy spike registered there. Laser beams danced just beyond the view screen as the
    Archangel took automatic evasive action. He couldn’t dodge them forever, though, he knew that.
    “Computer,” he called, “where’s the Via Dolorosa now?”
    Just exiting Burnham space, it answered.
    “And the pursuing alien ship?”
    Still in pursuit.
    “Try the planet-killers again!” he ordered. He cursed Straf and himself; so confident had they been in the big guns they hadn’t installed any secondary armaments.