Jam heard, just dimly, surging engines. “Are there planes nearby?”
A staccato sound accompanied the roar, a sound she recognized. “Cannons!”
A dozen holes appeared in the fuselage of the capsule, and shouts of alarm went up. Jam couldn’t tell if anyone was seriously injured.
Ping grunted. “Ow. They’re shooting at us.” She ran to the hatch, threw open the door, and unhitched her Big Gun.
Jam’s eyes widened in alarm. “Ping, you shoot that thing from here, the backblast will kill everyone.”
Ping growled as she set the gun, still folded up, on the deck. “I know, I know.” She whipped off her batpack, wrenched open a zipper, and started pulling stuff out.
Jam shook her head. “Rope? You brought rope?”
“Aside from duct tape and WD-40, what else is more useful in emergencies?” Ping whipped t
