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Ninety-nine percent of them were false, but our scanners were sophisticated
enough to show those up pretty well. Trouble was, there wouldn't be time to
shoot them all down, even as fast as Sam was. Moreover, our mortar rounds
don't follow a true trajectory--these came equipped with tiny gas vernier jets
to vector them into their chosen targets. That would increase Sam's "swing
around" time as he used up precious microseconds to process continually
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changing data.
But Carl was helping.
"Fifty-six real blips," Sam said. "That's it, Carl! Get 'em at the top of the
arc! Forty-two, forty-one . . ."
Carl was firing his magical weapon continually--doubtless it, too, was under
some sort of computerized control.
". . . eighteen, seventeen. . ."
Just then another piece of the bad roller broke off, wafted past the cab like
a gigantic snowflake, caught the slipstream and disappeared. The rig lunged to
the left and I fought to get it under control.
"Sorry, Sam!" I yelled.
"Keep moving! Three of 'em left!"
A shell exploded to our right. Shrapnel sponged off the hull.
"Dammit, one got through." Sam said. "Must have MIRVed off one of the ones I
registered as destroyed. Son of a bitch."
"Sean? You okay?"
"Right, Jake. We're still with you, but I'm afraid Ariadne's had a relapse.
We're losing power very quickly here."
"Have you lost fusion altogether?"
"No, l don't think. Wait a minute."
"Another salvo, Jake," Sam announced.
"Right. Sean, what about it?"
On the rearview screen, I could see the magenta roadster dropping back
precipitously.
"Absolutely right, Jake, we've lost it. We're working off a small
light-hydrogen combustion engine. Afraid we won't be keeping up with you very
well."
"Continue evasive action! Sam? How many this time?"
"About twice as many as before, it looks like."
Carl began firing again, a glowing green tube of energy bristling from the
roof of his car like a straight lightning bolt.
"Sam, I want to slow down. Got an idea."
"Do it now!"
I slowed until Sean's buggy was tailgating us. "Sean, listen to me. Do
exactly as I say. Sam, I want you to--"
"I know what you're up to. The door is open and the ramp is down."
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"Sean, do you see what I want?"
"Right, Jake. We'll try."
"Keep her steady, Jake," Sam warned. "Don't give me more numbers to crunch
than you have to."
The rearview showed Sean lining his buggy up for the impossible docking
procedure. He faded off, accelerated, drifted back again, all too tentatively.
"Sean! Shoot it in there! It's your only chance!"
He shot. I felt the trailer shift the slightest bit as the roadster dip out
of camera range. I switched feeds to the camera inside the trailer to make
sure they'd made it, then reached for the switch to take in the ramp. Then a
tremendous explosion raked us.
"Sam, did we take a hit?"
"Don't know. Rearview camera's out, though."
"Sean, can you read me? Sean? Liam?"
"Their signal won't punch through the hull, Jake."
"That shell sounded like it could have penetrated the trailer and gone off
inside it. Camera in the trailer's out too."
"Afraid you might be right. Damage sensors show a hull breach. Possible one,
anyway. No, that may be because the back door won't close and the ramp's
stuck. Getting all red lights back there."
"Jake? You gays okay?"
"We're all fine in the cab, Carl. Did you see us take a hit to the trailer?"
"I was looking back. You've got damage back there."
"Yeah. Can you see Sean or Liam?"
"No. The door's halfway down and the ramp's still dragging on the road."
"That's bad. They may have bought it. Carl, does that buggy of yours have any
missiles?"
"Sort of. You have to understand something. The weapons can this vehicle are
mainly defensive, except for the Tasmanian Devils. And I had to argue with 'em
over those."
"Argue with who?"
"The manufacturers. Never mind, can't go into it right now. Anyway, l can't
fire at a vehicle unless it's in line-of-sight and it's shooting at me."
"Hell. Maybe--"
"What I can do, though, is maybe screw their tracking radar momentarily."
"Huh? You can?"
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"Yeah, I think. I've never tried this gizmo before, but it should work."
"Christ, Carl! Why did you wait till now?"
"I just now figured out what the hell it was for. Jake, you've said that this
jalopy of mine puzzles the hell out of you. Well, it does me, too, sometimes.
They never fully explained how it's all supposed to work."
"Just what is this gizmo you're talking about?"
"I call it the Green Balloon. That's what it is. A big green sparkly bubble.
l launched one once and got out of the car to watch it. I felt itchy all over
and my hair stood on end, so I figured it was some kind of electrical
phenomenon."
"Sounds like it. Sam, reprogram the missiles for a ballistic trajectory. All
of 'em."
"Roger."
"Carl, can you keep that thing low to the ground so that the effect doesn't
extend very far up?"
"It doesn't float too far off the ground, Jake. But it might knock out your
radar . . . scanners, I mean."
"Just so it doesn't knock out the missiles' homing mechanisms."
"I can't promise that."
"We don't have much to lose by trying. Moore seems to have it over us in the
black box department. Unaided, our missiles'll never hit him. So, stand by to
fire that thing. Okay?"
"Will do."
"Sam?"
"Ready, Jake. All targeted."
"Fire away."
"Missiles off."
A series of loud whooshes came from the roof of the cab.
"Gimme the skyband again, and tell Carl to fire the Green Balloon when the
missiles reach the apex of their trajectories."
"Gotcha."
"Breaker, breaker. You still back there, Moore?"
"Indeed we are. What can I do for you?"
"You can take a look at your scanners and see death."
"Jake, those old firecrackers of yours don't worry us at all. We're just
waiting for that roller to go completely to pieces. Won't be long. You're
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leaving chunks of it all over the road."
"There's gonna be pieces of you all over the road, goodbuddy. Are you sure
you see those missiles?"
"Clear as day. And you didn't fool us any by giving them a ballistic curve
instead of cruising them. Actually, it doesn't make much difference--"
Suddenly, everything went out. The instrument lights flickered, went out,
came back on. The scanner screens went blank for a moment. The engine powered
down, groaned, sighed, and then came back to life.
"We just caught the edge of the effect zone," Sam said. "I zonked out there
for a second."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Missiles seem to be on course. Looks like our friends are trying to
take evasive action." Sam laughed wickedly. "Fat lot of good it'll do 'em.
They're blind, and it looks like their engines have quit on 'em too. They
won't be able to roll out of the zone in time. Unless . . ."
"What?"
"Damn."
"What, what?" I said.
"We were on a curve when Carl fired. I don't have an accurate fix on that
thing, though I'm painting some fuzzy stuff that might be it. It looks as
though it's drifting off. They may get out of the effect zone just in time."
"Oh, hell."
"We'll know in a few . . . Yeah, looks like they're back on full power, and
they're starting to fire. Five seconds to impact.
"Four . . . three . . . two . . . Huh?"
I shot a glance into the rearview parabolic, couldn't see anything. "What
happened, Sam?"
"Son of a brick. Those missiles detonated before impact. All of 'em, all at
once."
"That's impossible."
"Yeah? How come it happened? I'm not entirely sure they detonated, but they
all disappeared from the scope in a flash."
"Moore couldn't have done that," I said. "He would've got some of them, but
not all of them in one clean sweep."
"I think you're right. They were just about to be hit hard when it happened.
Two more seconds and we would've got 'em. Hell. There goes the fuel on the
drone. I'll have to recover it."
"Send up Number Two drone," I told him.
"Going up right now,"
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