Collingdale let his head fall back. He wondered whether one could achieve impact with a cloud.

Ava watched the time, and her lips were moving, counting down the seconds.

“They’re in,” she said. Someone’s hand touched his shoulder. Gripped it. Good luck.

Riley adjusted his harness.

Collingdale, knowing his foster parents would have been proud, muttered a prayer.

“They’ve gone off.” Alexandra’s voice. “Too soon.”

There were a few glimmerings along the surface of the cloud. But he saw no sign of disruption.

“It might take a while before we can really see anything,” said Riley, hopefully.

The hand on his shoulder let go.

“You’re right,” said one of the others. “I mean, the cloud is so big.”

“The bombs had to do some damage. How could they not?”

“Maybe just screw up the steering mechanism. Hell, that would be enough.”

The glimmering got brighter. Collingdale thought he saw an explosion. Yes, there was no doubt of it. And there. Over there was a second eruption of some kind. They watched several patches grow more incandescent. Watched the cloud pass overhead. Watched it begin to sink toward the rim of the world.

The explosive patches darkened.

On a second orbit, they were still visible, smoldering scars on the otherwise pacific surface of the omega.

“I don’t think it’s going to work,” said the pilot.

ON THE THIRD orbit, they rendezvoused with the Quagmor, the vessel that had transported them to the system. The mood on the ship was dark, and everybody was making comments about having made a good effort. Just so much we can do.

Alexandra reported that the omega was still on course for Moonlight. “We didn’t get much penetration. There’s still a chance we might have done some damage that just doesn’t show. I mean, if we blew up the internal skunk works, how would we know? So don’t give up, Doc.”