But perhaps the most traumatic change of all—the most exhilarating and at the same time the most terrifying aspect of the Mindlink—was the fact that in this world within his own mind he was no longer alone.

Bokamba was there, close by his illusory side, his thoughts and emotions and sensations swirling around and within Quinn's own. Quinn could sense his alertness and ordered thoughts as he settled into the role of tail man; could feel his quiet exultation in what was probably his last chance to fly a combat mission as a Copperhead; could also feel the tinge of private uncertainty as to whether he would be able to handle the job. There was uneasiness of another sort, as well: an uneasy concern about Quinn's own state of mind, triggered by Quinn's delay in going to Level X when Schweighofer had given the order, and underlined by his knowledge of why Quinn had left the Copperheads in the first place. Clipper and the other Copperheads of the Omicron Four unit were there, too, a level below the experiential peak where he and Bokamba stood; spread out a level beneath that were the Copperheads of Samurai's Kappa Two and Dreamer's Sigma Five. And a level below that were Schweighofer and the other non-Copperhead signals from the Trafalgar—

Human Peacekeepers, we welcome you. Displayed as images and sensations in his mind, it took Quinn a fraction of a second to realize the words coming in along the Trafalgar's comm feed had been spoken in Yycroman. Your assistance is most desperately needed.

Our target is number three, Clipper's voice came in Quinn's mind. One of the Zhirrzh ships, edging from green to yellow now as the Copperheads approached it, flashed briefly red as Clipper marked it for them. For another instant it was superimposed by an overview of Clipper's proposed attack plan: a split-wedge thrust, with Quinn and Shrike veering to starboard into an over/under scissor, Paladin and Harlequin doing the mirror to port, while Clipper did a straight-in run. Go for laser ports, Clipper continued. Try to knock them out so the line ships' missiles can get through. Tails, watch for any signs of hull damage or weakness they can exploit.

Bokamba and the other three tails acknowledged. The target had shaded from yellow to red now; and as Quinn began easing toward starboard in preparation for the split, he saw one edge of the ship brighten and the opposite edge dim, the pitches of the sound coming from those edges similarly rising and falling. He's swinging around toward us, Bokamba confirmed. A group of orange diamonds appeared on the edges of the hexagons—Laser ports, Bokamba identified them—which the Zhirrzh were obviously trying to bring into range.

We're glad we're in time to help. That was Commodore Montgomery, talking to the Yycromae. What can you tell us about the enemy?

Clipper's signal sparked; and with a wrenching move that momentarily staggered his imaginary combat stance as the gee forces drained some of the blood away from his brain, Quinn threw the Corvine into a ninety-degree turn to starboard. One of the orange diamonds Bokamba had marked flared suddenly; reflexively, he ducked, the Corvine twitching simultaneously, as the white vector line of a laser blast shot past him. There was a flicker of warmth on his left arm, but the taste of cinnamon remained steady. An orange cross appeared on the laser port as Bokamba got a targeting lock on it, and even as he twisted the Corvine into his scissor, Quinn threw a left-handed punch from his imaginary stance, sending a burst of 55 mm cannon shells directly into the port. The Corvine scissored beneath the hexagon before he could see what if any damage he'd inflicted.

There was another flicker from the hull above him, and another laser pulse flashed past. Again it missed, but not by nearly as great a margin. A sudden warmth ran across his right shin, and for a second the cinnamon taste in his mouth was mixed with oregano as the ionized gases in the laser's wake momentarily scrambled the Corvine's aft-starboard sensors. The oregano faded as Bokamba reconfigured the pathways and connections and brought the sensors back on-line—

And then, at the back of Quinn's consciousness, two images abruptly winked out. One of Samurai's Corvines had been hit, the two Copperheads aboard killed. For them warrior's luck had run out.

You took out the laser lens with that last shot, Bokamba informed him.

With another dizzying turn Quinn swung the Corvine back around again. What's the opening's size? The last image of the laser port as they'd swung beneath the ship appeared in front of him, the details scrubbed and measurements marked. Yes: it was just the right size. Is the laser itself still functional?

We won't know until and unless it fires again, Bokamba said dryly.

Which meant that what Quinn was planning was going to be a huge gamble. But definitely a worthwhile one. If the laser had been put out of commission, the opening was just big enough to drop one of their four Vejovis missiles into, bypassing the whole problem of the invulnerable hull and depositing a warhead directly into the interior of the Zhirrzh ship.

If the laser hadn't been put out of commission, on the other hand, he was about to give the Zhirrzh the easiest shot they would ever have.

He had the Corvine almost in position now, swinging around in a tight arc ready to come into line with the laser port and drive down its throat. A green targeting cross flicked into place in front of Quinn's eyes, Bokamba's confirmation that the Vejovis missiles were ready to launch. Quinn turned his head slightly, moving the cross onto the port—

Maestro: signal from Schweighofer, Clipper's voice came in his mind. The Cascadia has gotten snarled in the Wolf Pack. You and Shrike break off and go help shoot them loose.

Not now, Quinn told him. A quick status update flicked between them—

Acknowledged, Clipper agreed. One melded-consciousness level below, Quinn could sense his giving the order to Harlequin instead as he brought the Corvine up almost into line—

And again twitched away as a laser pulse shot past him.

Still active, Bokamba reported, as if Quinn needed to be told. But I see now that without the lens there's a 0.74-second optic precursor.

A replay of the laser shot flicked into view, along with a graph of the intensity from the light-leakage precursor Bokamba had identified. Three quarters of a second wasn't a lot of warning, but it would have to do. Watch it closely. Here we go.

He swung up toward the laser port; and as he did so, the mental sensations that were Harlequin and his tail, Savile, flashed and vanished. Another Corvine, this time one from his own unit, had run out of warrior's luck.

Later, he knew, he would be able to feel the pain and loss of these deaths of his comrades. But not yet. For the moment the Mindlink connection rode supreme, suppressing all emotion and all thought except what was necessary for survival and the completion of his job.

He was in line with the laser port now, the green targeting cross dead center on the hole. In his imaginary stance he prepared a right-hand punch....

Concentrating on the target, he completely missed the brief flare from the next laser port to starboard. Bokamba's warning flicked into his mind; firing the missile, he threw the Corvine into a flat dive. The laser beam flashed over his head—

And suddenly the whole of his lower back flared with heat, the sharp tang of pineapple and the stench of burned toast flooding in on him as the Corvine bucked violently. The dorsal stabilizer and engine had been hit, and hit badly.

He fought to bring the fighter back under control, feeling Bokamba in the back of his mind as the other worked furiously to reroute the electronics and create a compensation profile for the remaining engines. The Vejovis missile was nearly to the target port now, he saw, burning with the single-mindedness of its scorpion namesake toward its target. Almost there—