Soon, he promised the voices. The bridge hatch was tough, but cutting through it would be just a matter of time. Soon.
Something clattered behind him. He turned just in time to see a canister, a second canister, flying through the air and striking one of his men a fearsome blow. The victim shrugged it off, of course—the gods had granted them all the strength they needed to defeat their enemies—but it was still painful. And the canisters were hissing . . .
. . . and then a third object rattled through the air and hit the ground. There was a spark . . .
Matt had taken cover, but he still felt the wave of heat from the explosion. Super-compressed oxygen, pure oxygen—the blast had been strikingly powerful. He remembered the safety lectures he’d received and shivered. Singh had been trying to spark an explosion, something Matt had been warned not to do. But there hadn’t been any choice.
The fire might have caused the cutters to explode too, he thought. It would have been very hot indeed.
“Now,” Singh snapped, “move!”
He jumped out of cover and ran towards the hatch. Bodies lay everywhere, some clearly dead; others were moaning in pain as they tried to roll over and suppress the fire. Matt recoiled at the stench of burning flesh, trying hard not to gag as Singh moved from fanatic to fanatic. A handful of them were immediately put out of their misery. They’d been so badly burned that recovery was unlikely, at least without prompt medical care. He forced himself to look away as Singh crushed a skull, eyeing what remained of the bulkheads. They’d been scorched by the heat, paint dripping down onto the deck. The metal behind the paint looked blackened as well.
They’ll probably try to take it out of my salary, he thought numbly. He stumbled, leaning against the bulkhead. His entire body felt tired, as though he could no longer go on. Or make me clean up the mess myself.
“There’ll be others on the way,” Singh warned. “Get ready to face them.”
Matt barely heard him. Fatigue dominated his universe now. He slumped, landing on the deck with no clear memory of how he’d gotten there. The pistol clattered to the deck beside him. He was too tired to think, too tired to care . . . he knew, deep inside, that he was being drained, but it was impossible to feel any concern.
“Get up,” Singh ordered. He kicked Matt in the leg, hard enough to jerk him awake. “We might have to make a last stand.”
“Fuck you,” Matt managed. He reached for the pistol. His vision was darkening, making it harder to see. The voices were growing louder and louder. “I . . .”
“Your girlfriend is going to be fucked if you don’t,” Singh snapped. “Get up!”
Matt forced himself to kneel, then stand as he heard the sound of running footsteps. The rest of the fanatics were on their way. If they’d brought more cutting tools, the bridge would fall . . . if they didn’t manage to hold them off. He stumbled into cover, bracing himself for one last stand. Definitely the last. The pistol suddenly felt too heavy to lift . . .
He gritted his teeth, biting his cheek to keep from collapsing. The pain didn’t keep him focused for long. He held the pistol at the ready, bracing himself. One way or the other, it would all be over soon.
I’m sorry, he thought. But this is the end.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Charge detonated, sir,” Tidal said.
Paul turned to Rani. “Hit it!”
“Flash-waking the drive now,” Rani said. Her voice rose as a quiver ran through the giant ship. “Overriding automated safeties . . . power surge in ten seconds.”
“The antimatter explosion is already draining,” Tidal said. Supreme shuddered again, violently. “They’re switching their attention back to us.”
“Flash the drive,” Paul ordered sharply. The aliens knew what they were doing. Even if they hadn’t caught on earlier, they’d sense the vortex forming. If he didn’t react quickly, they were doomed. “Open the vortex!”
“Aye, sir,” Rani said. “Vortex in five . . . four . . .”
Supreme shook, again and again. Paul gritted his teeth. The sensors were almost completely offline. What remained wasn’t enough to tell him if Supreme had been struck by the shockwave, or if the vortex was spinning out of control, or if the aliens were doing something to prevent them from escaping. He’d hoped to have observation teams in position along the promenade, but that plan had gone out the airlock. He honestly wasn’t sure just how many crewmembers remained alive.
The gravity field twisted, just for a second. “Vortex opening,” Rani snapped. Supreme lurched as if she’d been slapped by an angry god. “Power drain increasing . . . vortex destabilizing!”
“Take us forward,” Paul ordered. They’d configured the vortex to produce a gravity well, but it was clear that the field wasn’t strong enough to yank Supreme into the maelstrom. “Trigger all maneuvering jets!”
“Aye, Captain,” Rani said. The ship bucked again. “Gravity field is failing . . .”
“Strap in,” Paul said. If the compensators failed too, they were dead. There would be no hope of survival. “Take us into the vortex.”
Supreme quaked. He looked up just in time to see lightning flickering over the overhead porthole. The edge of the vortex looked odd, as if it were unable to focus properly. Light, sickly green light, was bending out of shape, turning into long fingers . . . he told himself, firmly, that he was seeing things.
Jeanette swore. “Emergency alerts, decks . . .”
“Leave it,” Paul ordered. The hull was creaking loudly, strange sounds echoing through the ship. He had the sudden impression that Supreme was about to be caught between an irresistible force and an immovable object. He’d never heard of a starship bent out of shape, let alone shattered, by gravitational force, but there was always a first time. “Concentrate on getting out.”
“The vortex is failing,” Rani reported. Paul could hear a hint of panic in her words. “I can’t hold it!”
“Shunt all remaining power to the vortex generator,” Paul ordered. “Take us through!”
His stomach clenched as Supreme plunged into the vortex. They were going . . . going somewhere. He dry-retched helplessly, silently praying that Rani would remain unaffected until they reached the other side of the vortex. His wristcom bleeped, a babble of voices reporting blown power linkages and expended power cells. He ignored them, even as the shaking grew stronger and stronger. They would either make it out or die in the lobster pot . . .
And then the hand of God reached out and slapped his ship.
“Hang on to something,” Joan screamed. “Hurry.”
Angela barely heard her over the creaking running through the entire ship. The noise was deafening, terrifying her. And yet, it wasn’t what truly terrified her. She was staring at Nancy. Her sister looked . . .
“You will not escape,” Nancy said. “You will . . .”
The girl threw back her head and started to scream, then crumbled onto the deck. Angela crawled forward, ignoring Joan’s warnings, and wrapped her arms around her trembling sister. Nancy struggled frantically, but there was no strength in her body. She suddenly felt thin, helpless.
“It’ll be all right,” Angela said, although she had no idea if that was true. “I’ve got you.”
She forced herself to keep hold of Nancy as her wails grew louder. The racket was terrifying, the shrieks blurring together into a single discordant howl. The shaking was growing worse . . . she thought she saw the bulkheads start to cave in on them before they stopped. Her head was spinning . . . she was no longer sure if there was a banging noise echoing through the ship or if her head was pounding like a drum. The gravity seemed to be changing rapidly, shifting upward and downward at random. She prayed, desperately, that it would end soon, for all of their sakes.
I’m sorry, she thought. She wasn’t sure, in truth, what she was apologizing for. Did the universe hate her? Or had it set out to teach her a lesson? Or had she merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, a victim of random chance? Cold logic told he
r that the latter was the most likely explanation, but she didn’t really believe it. I’m so sorry.
The shaking grew worse and worse. The remaining lights snapped off, leaving them in utter darkness. Angela held Nancy tightly, wondering what had happened to their parents. Where were they? They should be with their daughters, shouldn’t they? But . . . she swallowed hard, cursing herself. She wanted to go back to her birth and start again. She knew that was impossible . . .
And then, something changed.
Matt held on for dear life as the fanatics charged, screaming their incoherent battle cry. He lifted his pistol, promising himself that he would make every shot count, though he could barely hold the gun steady. The tiredness . . . and the shaking . . . made it impossible to aim . . .
And then the fanatics tumbled forward and hit the deck, like puppets whose strings had been cut. Matt stared in disbelief, exchanging a quick glance with Singh. The constable looked equally surprised, and suspicious, as the fanatics started to scream and whimper like children. The overwhelming sense of threat was gone . . .
. . . and so too were the voices.
Paul jerked up in his command chair as the universe seemed to shatter around him, then reform. He felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as though a pane of dirty glass that had been blurring his view was gone. And the voices . . . the voices were gone.
“Flash-wake Fusion One and Three,” he ordered. The other two fusion cores would require careful inspection before he risked trying to reactivate them. He wasn’t too sure about the first set of cores, but without power they were doomed anyway. “Bring sensors online as soon as you can.”
“Aye, Captain,” Rani said.
Paul looked up. Darkness greeted him, darkness broken by pinpricks of light. He smiled in utter joy and relief. They were back in realspace . . . somewhere in realspace. And that meant . . . they were safe. He had no idea where they were—that would have to wait until they booted up the navigation computers—but at least they were out of the lobster pot. He felt . . . alive.
“Fusion One is warming up now,” Tidal reported.
Jeanette looked up from her wristcom. “I’m getting reports from all decks,” she said. “The . . . ah . . . mutineers have collapsed. I’ve got security teams trying to take advantage of it now to secure them.”
Paul rubbed his forehead. Sorting out the good from the bad was going to be a nightmare. It was a point of law that no one could be held accountable for anything they did if they’d been mind-controlled, but . . . how did one determine what counted as mind control? The flickers hadn’t used subversion implants or forced conditioning. They’d seduced people who were already tired, already prone to making mistakes. God alone knew what the courts would make of the incident.
“The vortex went . . . odd, at the end,” Rani said. “I—”
Alarms howled. Paul jumped. “Report!”
“Shit,” Rani said.
“I said report,” Paul snapped. “What’s happening?”
“Captain, we’re heading right for a planet,” Rani said. “We’ll hit the upper atmosphere in five minutes!”
Paul blanched. There was no way that could be random chance. The flickers had managed to get one last kick in after all. He had no idea how they’d done it, but they’d done it . . . if that was a Commonwealth world, Supreme was about to be blown out of space. They wouldn’t have a choice. Something the size of a cruise liner hitting a planet at speed would slaughter millions of innocent people.
“Reverse the drives,” he snapped. Supreme might just have a chance. “Get us into a stable orbit!”
“I can’t,” Rani said. “The drive control system is fucked! We’re going down!”
“Trigger the emergency beacon,” Paul ordered. He glared at his console. Half the sensors were still offline. He didn’t have the slightest idea if anything was out there. And if the planet was heavily defended, he doubted the defenders had any time to organize a rescue mission. They’d open fire before it was too late to save their world. “And ramp up the antigravity systems.”
“Sir . . . half the antigravity pods are down,” Tidal yelled. “I’m trying to boot them up now!”
“Do it,” Paul snapped. “We’re about to hit a planet!”
He forced himself to think. Supreme might make it down to the planet’s surface reasonably intact. There would be no hope of getting the hulk back into space, of course, but he was past caring. And if they didn’t . . . he cursed the flickers, savagely. Their parting gesture had been one of utter contempt for matter-based life.
The display brightened, updating rapidly as more and more systems came online. Paul silently thanked God for the multiple redundancies built into the ship, even though they’d been utterly useless in the lobster pot. Now, with power flowing into the distribution network again, the datanet was hastily reconfiguring itself to reroute around failed or cannibalized components. It would have given him hope, if he hadn’t been all too aware that they were heading straight for the ground. If there was a city underneath, they were going to kill millions of innocent people.
No one has blown us out of space, he thought as Supreme hit the upper edge of the atmosphere. The shock nearly threw him out of his command chair. The planet might be uninhabited.
“Going down, sir,” Rani said. “We’re slowing our fall . . .”
Paul nodded. Supreme was just too large to hover like an aircar. The best they could do was slow their fall enough to prevent a major impact. He briefly considered triggering the self-destruct, but it was already too late. An explosion in the upper atmosphere would be very bad for the planet . . .
“Impact in thirty seconds,” Rani reported. “All systems are straining . . .”
“Reroute all power to the antigravity pods,” Paul ordered. The creaking grew louder, sending shivers down his spine. Supreme was tough, but her hull had taken a beating. “And I mean everything.”
“Aye, sir,” Rani said. “We’re going down!”
Paul glanced at Jeanette. “Alert the passengers,” he ordered. “Tell them to take up brace positions.”
“Aye, sir,” Jeanette said. “If they’ll listen . . .”
“Do it,” Paul said. Most of the passengers probably hadn’t bothered to read the safety procedures. The instructions had initially been very short until Corporate’s lawyers had gotten their hands on the text and insisted on major revisions. Now the instructions were multiple pages long and used ten words where one would do. “And then brace yourself.”
“Aye, Captain,” Jeanette said.
Matt forced himself to remain steady as the entire ship shook violently, the bulkheads shaking like a shuttle passing through particularly bad turbulence. He didn’t know what it meant, let alone how to deal with it. Were they being sucked back into hell? Or had they run into another problem? He checked the fanatics one by one, confiscating their weapons. It looked as though they were no longer dangerous, but he took care anyway. He wouldn’t turn his back on anyone for a long time.
“You might want to see this,” Singh said. He was standing by the hatch, peering down the corridor towards the promenade. “Look!”
Matt walked up to him . . . and stared. Just for a second, his mind refused to accept what he was seeing. The giant windows should have shown the inky darkness of space . . . or the sickly light of the lobster pot. Instead . . . he saw blue sky and white clouds, rushing by at terrifying speed. The ship bucked and twisted again, shaking violently . . .
We’re going to crash, Matt thought in horror. We’ve come out in a planetary atmosphere!
“Brace yourself,” he snapped. The gravity field was twisting below his feet, growing stronger . . . they had to be about to hit the ground. “Get ready for—”
The deck came up and hit him. Matt found himself lying on the hard surface, unable to move. For a chilling moment, he thought he’d been paralyzed. A terrible crashing noise echoed through the air, pieces of debris hitting the ground. And then, somehow
, he managed to force himself to stand and peer down at the windows. They were gone. Warm air was drifting into the ship.
He swallowed hard. He had no idea where they were, but . . . there might be something dangerous in the air. Or . . . he was breathing it. There was no point in worrying any longer. The windows might have looked fragile, but he knew how strong they were. If they’d broken, chances were that the entire ship was open to the atmosphere. They were already breathing the alien air.
“Shit,” Singh said quietly.
Matt forced himself to walk down to the promenade. The deck was covered in pieces of transparent metal, just waiting for him to stumble. He picked his way between them as he walked up to what had once been a window. Careful to keep his distance from the jagged edges, he looked out onto a whole new world. Supreme had come down hard. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of tree trunks lay shattered on the ground. Beyond them, in the distance, he could see blue mountains rising into the sky.
“No sign of life,” Singh said. Matt hadn’t even heard the man following him. “No helicopters, no aircars . . .”
Matt looked at him. “Where are we?”
“God knows,” Singh grunted. “But we might want to get used to it. We might be staying here a long time.”
“Fuck,” Matt said. A thought struck him. “Angela!”
He turned and ran back into the ship.
Angela picked herself off the deck, carefully. Nancy was lying next to her, tired and wan. Joan was bending over Marie, injecting her with some kind of stimulant. Some of the medical equipment seemed to be coming back online, lights flickering on darkened consoles as they rebooted. Carla groaned loudly as she sat upright. She didn’t look pleased.
“All of the equipment will need to be tested,” Joan said. The doctor seemed pissed. “I don’t know how much can be trusted after . . . after everything.”
Carla nodded. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Joan said. “But the gravity feels odd.”
Angela agreed. The gravity field felt a little heavier than she recalled. Or maybe she was just imagining it. She’d been outside a gravity field only a couple of times, both for zero-g sex. Everywhere else, the gravity field had been one-g.
The Hyperspace Trap Page 36
