“Ten seconds!” Wilma yelled to the men in back, and everyone grabbed onto a railing, hands on helmets, heads ducked. Seconds before the sled touched down, Terra saw a series of flashes from behind the warehouses—thirty at least, maybe fifty. For just a second she didn’t know what it was, then her blood turned cold. The sled slammed into the ground and rocked to a halt.

“P-guns!” Terra screamed. “Over the side!”

The soldiers rolled over the gunwales and disappeared into the sled’s shadow. Terra slapped Wilma on the helmet.

“Get us out of here! Go-go-go!”

Wilma hit the thrusters and the sled leaped off the ground. The first parabola gun salvo burst even as she poured on speed, bright flashes followed by a whump and the whine of singing steel. Three shells exploded within fifty feet and shrapnel hit Terra’s PlastiGlass shield like shotgun blasts. Something pinged off her helmet and she heard screams behind her as the infantry took the full brunt of the barrage.

At least four sleds were hit by falling projectiles—the sleds were only armored on the bottom—and crashed onto the spaceport grounds where they skidded out of control or pinwheeled end for end. Wilma got them out from under the barrage; the sleds were moving too fast for the P-gunners to adjust. Now Terra had a clear shot as they streaked toward the hangars and repair shops, and she finally got her Twin Forties into action. She could see tracers from two 22mm guns and zeroed in on one as Wilma flew directly toward it. The rebel gunner was trying to track her sled and elevated his fire, but his shells bounced off the armored hull and exploded on the pavement; Terra’s .40 calibre rounds did not miss, and as Wilma banked away at the last minute, the gunner and two loaders were flung violently into the side of their emplacement. The gun barrel swung skyward and fell silent.

It wasn’t over yet. The night was now raging with sound; rapid-fire guns, exploding shells, whining sleds, shouting men—Terra hosed a second gun emplacement as they skimmed past and saw the sled ahead of her shoot up a third. Something exploded fifty feet in front of them and Wilma banked left to avoid it; acrid smoke stung Terra’s eyes for a few seconds before the wind whipped it away. Her long black ponytail streamed out behind her helmet and she looked back to see what damage they had done; more sleds were strafing the enemy gunners, but Terra saw flashes from behind the buildings again and realized the P-guns were still in operation.

She leaned over to Wilma.

“We’re going back!”

“What! Are you out of your mind?”

“Bank right and make a one-eighty. Get out of the traffic and go in behind the warehouses. Cut your power so they won’t hear us and come in as slow as you can.”

“Kristopher Krist, you’re going to get us killed!”

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