The Trouble Dog’s avatar smiled. “We are the underdogs.”

I smiled back. I knew she was right. If we stayed out here, we’d be torn to shreds.

“Okay.” I struggled against the acceleration that seemed to be unhinging my lower jaw. “I’m turning strategic command over to you. Do what you have to.”

The Trouble Dog’s eyes glimmered. Her smile grew wider, displaying predatory teeth. “I’m off the leash?”

“Until I say otherwise.”

Delight filled her face. She clapped her hands. “Hot damn!”

* * *

The course changes were hard and violent, and almost too quick to follow. Given free rein, the Trouble Dog threw herself into the fight with such aggression that Laura and I found ourselves tossed around like rag dolls. I heard her moan in pain, but was too preoccupied with my own discomfort to inquire. Instead, I concentrated on the flickering chaos of the main screen: detonations flowered like lethal fireworks; strings of tracer hosed back and forth; the background stars jumped and whirled.

I couldn’t see the other Carnivore, but I knew she was out there in the darkness, her position implied by the white corkscrew tails of incoming ordnance. My hands gripped the rests on either side of my couch, and I hoped that on board the Fenrir, Captain Parris was suffering at least as much as we were.

“Come on, girl,” I urged, willing the Trouble Dog to survive this assault, to absorb the hellfire being thrown at her and, somehow, emerge triumphant.

A status window to the lower left of the forward wall showed an animated representation of the shuttle’s progress. I watched the little craft fall towards the planet’s etched surface. All we had to do was survive long enough for Clay, Childe and Preston to retrieve the injured with automated stretchers and secure them in the shuttle’s cargo bay. Unfortunately, they’d need hours to complete their mission, and I knew we’d only last minutes against Fenrir—let alone Adalwolf when he arrived. But at least if we inflicted damage before we were destroyed, the follow-up ships we’d called for would stand a chance of getting through—and maybe the shuttle could stay hidden until they arrived.

Three more torpedoes appeared, diving towards us, and the Trouble Dog rocked as she dispatched two of her own in reply.

A voice came from the shuttle.

“This is Clay. We’re seeing some activity on the surface, several kilometres from the wreck. Could be survivors. We’re going down for a look-see.”

“Roger that.”