"No. I need you up here to watch the screens. And..."

"What?"

"I'm going to ask Gage to take the other gun."

"What makes you think he can?"

"That's an order, Jordan."

He sat down and rebuckled his harness.

And Annie raced down the stairs to the passenger compartment.

Straight to Gage.

McGowan touched her as she passed.

"What's going on? Why the hell are we slowing down?"

The sleepy miner's voice was commanding now, booming in the compartment.

But Annie didn't stop.

Until she stood beside the man they had rescued.

"Can you operate a turret gun?"

Gage looked at her, but only for a moment. Then he nodded.

"It's aft. Jordan's on the forward guns. Stay in contact with him."

Gage got up and started down the aisle to the back of the SRV.

And only then did Annie turn to the passengers.

All eyes on her.

"The storm particles have damaged our heat deflectors. Not sure how much. The monitors are out. But the engines can't run without 'em."

"What are you going to do?" Nahara asked. He sounded more defeated than scared.

Annie hesitated.

False confidence? Or the truth?

"I don't know. I-"

She heard the snap of a seat harness being undone.

McGowan grumbled as he stood up.

"Mr. McGowan. You need to sit down. I can't predict what we may have to do-"

But McGowan, burly, filling the center aisle, walked toward her.

And faced Annie.

"You ain't sure what to do, is that it?" he asked "I know what I have to do-I'm just not sure-"

"If you had your vehicle back at a way station, in a service bay, you could do the repairs no sweat, right?"

A curt nod from Annie. She couldn't stop wondering how long before the bugs decided they were moving slow enough and removed her vehicle from the Road, piece by piece.

"Only one thing we can do," McGowan said, his eyes steely, boring into her.

She knew what he was going to say.

"Someone's gotta clean them damn ion deflectors before the bugs get to us."

"And how, exactly, can we-"

"Someone's gotta EVA." A pause. "If you'll excuse me, I'll get on my mining rig and go out. We don't have much time just to stand around gabbin'."

Annie thought. But only for a second. Then another quick nod.

A bit of hope.

The old miner in his suit ... out there? Removing ion particles from the deflectors? That's close to a suicide mission.

But it just might work. Like he said: Back on good ole terra firma? No problem.

Out here?

Not so much.

The big question was: Can the suit stand up to the steady blast of ionized particles?

And with the bugs already here ... what else could McGowan do?

All pointless questions when McGowan's offer was the only option they had.

"I ain't a flight jockey," McGowan said, "so you'll have to talk me through it."

"I'll be in your ear."

McGowan nodded and grinned at that.

Then Annie stood aside. But before McGowan started to the rear of the cabin, Sinjira nabbed him by the crook of the elbow.

"Wanna be famous?" Her eyes were bright when she asked.

"What are you asking?"

"Chip up. Record it. It'd make a helluva chip."

Annie watched as she held out a small recording device with two adhesive nodes.

"For posterity? Think about it. The brave rescue attempt."

"Emphasis on the word 'attempt.'"

We don't have time for this, Annie thought, watching as McGowan took a breath.

"What the hell..."

He took the chip recorder and pasted the two electrodes to his left temple just below the hairline. Then he slid the recording device into his jumpsuit pocket.

"Let's go," Annie said, and she followed McGowan to the back of the SRV where she opened the utility hatch, and stepped aside so he could climb down into the hold.

"I'll help you suit up."

She wondered if her voice betrayed her doubts. He looked like he didn't care one way or another.

Just doing what he had to do.

Ivan settled into the gun turret, letting his fingers slide over the dull metal and worn plastic of the controls.

Like coming home.

The hissing sound of particles hitting the exposed ship was much louder here. It dulled when he slipped on the headset.

"You there, Jordan?"

Ivan adjusted the volume.

"You know what you're looking at back there?"

Not the same type of gun Ivan was used to, but he could figure it out soon enough. He studied the targeting grip, an old-school item that had to be fun to operate.

Like something right out of the movies ...

He noticed a screen at the bottom showing the cockpit. Jordan was watching him. Like a hawk.

"I'm all good here," Ivan said.

"Targeting tends to drift to the right. Some of the old bearings in the turret mechanism need replacing. Just-when they come-make every shot count. Each miss will cost us."

"Got it."

Ivan paused. Took a breath.

It would be up to the two of them to keep the bugs away while the captain did what she had to do.

As to how she'd do it, he didn't have a clue.

And if Annie Scott didn't do it fast, sitting here with this killer of a gun would be useless.

McGowan moved fast, efficiently, unstrapping the metal casing for the suit quickly and undoing the neoprene clasps that held it tightly in place.

For such a big man, he eased into the suit as if sliding his feet into a pair of well-worn slippers.

"Battery's on reserve, but it's powered to max."

He pulled on the two special "gloves," more like metal pincer claws with other attached tools that he could activate if needed.

The gloves twisted around before they locked into place with loud clicking sounds. When McGowan opened and closed them a few times, they looked like lobster claws, snapping together. Only much stronger.

"Not really built for fine work," he said.

He bent over and picked up the helmet with the pincers. He grunted as he raised it over his head and then lowered it to the metal ring of the collar.

A few quick snaps, and it, too, locked into place.

In seconds, he was encased, waiting for the suit to fully pressurize.

He nodded at Annie "Jordan, you hear me?" she asked.

Her gunner had to be watching this.

A delay ... then: "Yes."

"We're all set for the EVA. Everything quiet up there?"

"No problems yet. The bugs are still tracking us."

"They any closer?"

"Still holding back ... like they don't know what to make of us."

"Good."

Maybe, she thought, the bugs were being held in check by the storm. Or maybe ... they were only seconds away from scrambling out onto the Road.