Dust from the second detonation settled; Ishikawa frowned. “Let’s try Booker again.”

“Sir, I have bad news,” Reyes said. “The 1984 has been destroyed. We’re still assembling packets relayed by far-side satellites. But it looks like the Synod mother ship hit it with an energy weapon.”

Reyes was shocked at the transformation of his captain’s face, from amiable trickster to predatory calculator. “That means the USNE troops have no air support. And no central command. A frigate would have been nice, but two military shuttles are nothing to sniff at. We’ll take the nearest one and turn its guns on the other. We’ve got to hurry, while the dust we raised covers us from the Synod.

“Order all combat troops to the elevator. Tell them to grab their stuff and run. They can put on their helmets and so on during the ride.”

The huge elevator platform rose as soon as the last man stepped aboard. “Full speed,” Ishikawa ordered. “We’ll deal with the engine damage later.”

Overloaded engine shrieking, it rushed upward.