by Paul Collins
Anneke calmed herself. ‘Enjoy it while you can, Brown. Your days are numbered. The universe will not suffer a creature like you for long.’
‘Spare me the melodramatics. The coordinates. Please.’
For all the good they will do you,’ Anneke said, giving him the code to unlock a server on the planet below. Within minutes, he had uploaded the entire set and verified their authenticity.
‘I don’t suppose you have any clues as to where the third set might be found?’
Anneke gave him an injured look.
‘No, of course not. Maybe I’ll go find young Josh, wherever he’s hiding. I think he’d make a fine addition to my research team.’
The Envoy returned.
‘Destroy it,’ Black ordered, getting to his feet. Anneke stared at him. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What do you think I’m doing, Anneke? I need a demonstration of power. And I need every single plankton containing the lost coordinates code to be forever destroyed. Which is what they used to call, I think, killing two birds with one stone.’ He moved to the door, stopping for a moment to turn back. ‘Oh, and I’ll be self-destructing this vessel, too, since you were churlish enough to ruin its drive.’
The Envoy stepped back from the controls. Pulling out a blaster, he vaporised the board. ‘It is done. The weapon must charge, but it can not now be stopped.’ Black nodded. To Anneke he said, ‘Well, I guess that’s it. I’ll be seeing you. Oh, that’s right. I won’t be seeing you. What a delightful thought. I’ll leave you alive for a short time to contemplate the error of your ways.’
He exited, whisding.
The Envoy did not follow immediately but paused, eyeing Anneke. ‘I will set the self-destruct for twenty minutes.’
He stared at her a moment longer then departed. Anneke started work on her shackles immediately. First, she bit down hard on a tooth at the back of her mouth, mixed the contents with saliva, and then dribbled it onto the shackle lock. Moments after mixing with air, it started to smoke, having become a molecular acid. Within two minutes, she was free.
Frantically, she set about stopping the weapon from firing, but realised she could do nothing from there. After an examination of the captain’s console she knew that the weapon was not directional. She could not save Kanto by changing the direction the ship pointed, even if she had not already thoroughly wrecked the ship’s drive.
‘Come on, think!’
The captain’s console lit up and a deep slow vibration trembled the floor and walls of the bridge. Anneke felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand erect as vast ancient energies built up.
‘No, no, don’t let this happen!’ she cried, staring wild-eyed at the destroyed consol. Suddenly, she heard a high-pitched whine. She looked up, staring at the forward screen in which Kanto hung like a bauble.
Then it was gone, winking into an incandescence so blindingly bright, it seared her optic nerves, leaving an after-image that lingered for minutes.
When she could see again, there was nothing, just a chaotic sea of plasma through which distant stars were shining.
Blinking back tears, she slumped in Black’s chair. She had failed. And millions upon millions of people had died.
She might have died, too, if the ship’s klaxons had not blared their warnings. ‘Self-destruct in five minutes and counting,’ intoned a pleasant disembodied voice.
Anneke forced herself up and out of the chair. She broke into a run, reached a drop tube and plummeted down a dozen levels, then sprinted for the jump-gate chamber. In her heart, she suspected Black would have disabled it.
But he had slipped up once already this day.
‘Two minutes and counting,’ said the ship’s AI
VOICe.
She put on a burst of speed, tore down a long passageway, slammed round the bend at the end into another, then a left, another left, then a right.
She burst, breathlessly, into the jump-gate chamber.
Marvel of marvels, it was still there, still energised.
‘Twenty seconds and counting,’ said the voice. Damn. There was no time to dial a destination, even if she knew one by heart. She would be sent through to the destination used by the previous traveller. What the hell, that had to be better than being vaporised. Providing of course the last destination hadn’t been Kanto ...
Anneke leaned over the control board, punched the SEND button, and heard the gate hum as it searched for and found the default destination. The gate dilated like an inky grey curtain of faintly cascading water.
‘Five seconds and counting.’
That’s when Anneke saw the blaster on an adjacent seat, probably left by an absent-minded techie. But there was no time. No time to go for it ...
She had no idea, however, where she was going or into what trouble she might be thrown.
Oh, dammit. As the final countdown sounded she leapt for the blaster, snatched it up and dived for the portal.
As she heard the ship’s AI say- ‘One second and counting’ - she slid clumsily through the gate and into an explosion of light and noise.
