One command of Heather’s thoughts, and the vessel shifted out of acceleration mode, so instead of triggering atomic reactions, the energy directly charged her own electromagnetic weapons. Then she dispersed some of the incoming energy by firing it at the distant weapons launched by NASA six months before, on their own intercept course. They were so far away, the camera eye of the ship couldn’t detect them, but Heather’s processor knew exactly where they would be in space and tagged them at the right spot to nudge them on their final course toward the battle. She really did have the most important role in the battle, Tom realized.

And then as they neared the Russo-Chinese shipyard, she shifted the pendulous weight of the vessel so they began to spiral toward the battle site, first large circles, then smaller ones, their momentum slowing down and down. Her sensors began to read the shipyard, began to detect the incoming automated weapons, and a retinue of Indian vessels began to cascade in to join the attack as well. The shipyard rolled into sight as the asteroid it was carved into rotated toward them.

This is when I do as much damage as possible before I become flack, she thought sourly to Tom, blasting with her weapons at the shipyard, maneuvering into the right position—and the first Russo-Chinese automated weapons came to life and targeted her. Heather had timed it right, though. As her ship was blasted apart, the debris became kinetic weapons of their own—spiraling out and crashing into the shipyard, missing the incoming American forces.

Tom was eager to see more, so as he was jolted back into his body, he tore straight back out of it, back into the Spire’s processor core, and followed the pipeline of signals currently lighting up the Pentagonal Spire’s systems, trying to find his way through the flashing data back into the battle. . . .

And then with a jolt, he found himself gazing through the sensors of Elliot Ramirez’s ship. Far away from the battle, still, and definitely too far to even pick anything up on his sensors.

We’re a bit slower than the others. . . . Elliot was explaining to Wyatt as they rotated in large, languid loops toward the shipyard.

Yeah. That was a way of putting it. How boring, being the rear.

To his alarm, Elliot thought, I’m sorry to bore you, Wyatt. It will be better once we’re fighting in the inner solar system.

Tom leaped out of Elliot’s ship swiftly, back into the processor core, and ventured into the storm of activity again.

This time, he found himself in Karl Marsters’s ship.

Explosions are pretty, Karl was thinking as he spliced through the reactor core of the Russo-Chinese shipyard. I like making stuff explode.

Tom thought about what an idiot Karl was.