“I see them,” Penae said. “Stay in pursuit. Scanners, get me a composition of the moon, please.”

“Yes Subaltern,” the scanner technician answered, directing his sensors ahead of them. “Nonbreathable atmosphere, high levels of sulfur, carbon, and various oxide composites. Volcanic, likely due to the proximity to the gas giant’s gravity field. Nothing out of the ordinary for a moon in this orbit, Subaltern.”

Penae waved off the report. He knew there was nothing out of the ordinary about the satellite, but that didn’t mean there was nothing problematic about it.

“If they get into that atmosphere, we’ll have a hard time scanning through the particles thrown up by the volcanic action,” he said aloud, “and if we lose them for any length of time, they’ll be able to bolt for deep space. Give them enough of a head start and our speed advantage won’t matter one jot.”

“Subaltern, the computer can’t effectively predict them. The pilot is clearly using an evasion protocol, and he’s getting better at it after every pulse,” Penae’s tactical officer offered up. “They’re running better software than we are.”

Penae nodded slowly, then made a decision. “Take manual control. You try to predict them.”

“Subaltern?” the officer asked, startled.

“You have my orders. Execute them.”

“As you say, Subaltern,” the anxious officer said, reaching for the console and taking the computer partially off weapons control.

At the ranges involved, there was no way he would be able to calculate and fire the beams effectively without computer aid, of course. However, he was going to pick the shots and then let the computer complete them. That meant trying to divine where in four-dimensional space the target would be at the point the laser intersected their range.

Not the simplest of tasks, but far from the most difficult the officer had ever been assigned. The difficulty lay in the lag period between when he registered the target course and speed and when the laser he fired would actually arrive on point. Within a short enough range, missing was effectively impossible. But the enemy craft had managed to carve out a significant lead, and making an accurate prediction was more an exercise in luck and frustration than true skill.

The officer took the controls with some trepidation, but firmed up his determination as he put in his first target, initiated the firing countdown, and then started entering more.

►►►

Shuttle Eagle One

► “We are approaching the moon rapidly,” Milla said, looking up from the radar intercept officer displays she was practically buried in.

“I see it,” Steph said as he adjusted the throttle and jigged slightly down relative to the shuttle. “Give me an entry vector. I’m never going to lose these bastards in the open black.”

“Adjust approach by three degrees, positive to the system plane,” she said. “We are going to be coming in, as you say, hot.”