by Rob Boffard
“Not a problem,” Seema says.
“No.” Volkova’s shirt has come untucked, strands of hair frizzing out from her tight bun. “Not on my ship,” she says, hissing the words through gritted teeth. “That man is a prisoner of war. We talk to him, but we do not hurt him.”
“He’s one of them,” Seema says. “He’s Colony. He was on that ship. And we’re not at war, by the way.”
“Plus,” says Jack. “They didn’t exactly follow the rules of engagement when they torched Sigma. Why should we play nice?”
Hannah takes a deep breath. Her heart feels like it’s gained an irregular rhythm, thudding off her ribcage. “Captain’s right. We’re going to do this properly. We’re going to question him together, and we’re not—”
“Did you see what he just did?” Brendan says.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“No.” Seema is deathly quiet. “Uh-uh.”
Volkova puts a finger on Seema’s chest. “And what are you going to do, exactly?” she says. “You cut him, he’ll just make up nonsense so you stop.”
“Yeah,” Brendan says. “But if we don’t, he won’t tell us anything.”
“Oh, he’ll tell us,” Seema says. As Hannah watches, she starts flicking the blade of her knife with her thumb.
Up until now, Jack has been the person Hannah has been really worried about – the one she thought would cause the most problems. She thought she had Brendan and Seema figured out. Seema might have been anxious, her bewildered anger at being separated from her son making her lash out, but it never went anywhere. Brendan always calmed her down, even if his cheerful exterior was starting to show cracks.
Not any more. There’s a look in both their eyes now: focused, determined. Like they both know what has to be done.
Seema turns to Jack. “Still think they’re being straight with you?”
Jack returns Seema’s gaze. He looks as if he’s thinking hard, turning something over in his mind.
“We’re not going to hurt him.” Volkova folds her arms. “It’s not up for discussion.”
Jack laughs – a sound with no humour in it. “You know,” he says, leaning against the edge of a line of plastic chairs, “I don’t know about you, but we—” he gestures to Brendan and Seema “—are getting pretty sick of this. Time you told us exactly what’s going on here.”
“You’re crazy, too.” Volkova twists her face into a disgusted grimace.
“No,” Jack says. “You know what’s crazy? One little tour ship surviving an attack unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. That Colony ship destroying its escape route. Doesn’t the whole thing strike you as a little strange?” He nods to Seema, who has an expression of grim satisfaction on her face. “She had it right from the start. I thought it was nuts, but maybe she’s got a point. Something else is going on here, and I am tired of being out of the loop.”
“Out of the loop?” Volkova says the words like they’re rotten in her mouth.
Hannah has started to sweat, her forehead hot and clammy, like she’s bitten down on a chilli. “Just listen to yourself,” she says.
Jack ignores her. “And then we actually get ahold of someone from that ship—” he pushes himself off the hard plastic, levelling a finger at Volkova “—and you tell us we can’t get answers out of him. After everything that’s happened.”
He points to Seema. “So, yeah, I might not have believed her at first. I thought it really was luck that we survived. I was willing to admit there was no conspiracy or game or whatever the hell it is.” His voice drops, turning low and dark. “But I’d say all of this puts it squarely back on the fucking table.”
The main deck falls silent. Volkova is looking at Jack like he’s just told her he can breathe in space without a suit. Behind Hannah, Corey mutters something inaudible.
“No,” Hannah says, quiet, firm. “No. It’s not back on the table. There is no table.”
“Oh come—”
“There is no table.” It sounds ridiculous, and she doesn’t care. “We just saw ten thousand people on a single station get blown to pieces.” She points a finger at Lorinda. “She risks her life to save us. You. The captain gets us out of danger not once, but twice, and—”
“That’s another thing, actually,” Brendan says, every trace of cheerfulness gone. “Explain to me how a tour ship pilot manages to steer us clear of those sphere weapons, twice in a row, in a ship like this. It’s a little hard to believe, yes?”
He raises his chin at Volkova. “Who are you, exactly? Because you’re not just a regular pilot.”
Hannah opens her mouth to tell Brendan that Volkova is former navy, but the captain beats her to it. She squares her shoulders, locking eyes with Brendan.
“Who am I?” she says. “I am Captain Jana Magdalena Volkova. Squadron Leader, 28th Scorpion Battalion, Frontier Navy.” She looks at Jack, then at Seema. “During my service, I logged twenty thousand hours flight time, eighteen combat missions, and this is my ship, and you’re not going to speak to me any more.”
“Exactly,” Hannah says. “Thank you.”
This time, Jack’s laugh is louder. “Please. A Frontier pilot with that much time on the clock, working way the fuck out here?”
“Oh, like you’d know,” Hannah spits at him.
He spreads his arms. “Her story stinks. Pilot with that much experience … I mean, that’s some major league hours. She should be at an academy, or doing civilian trips through a wormhole, or anything else. What’s a Frontier combat pilot doing on a shitbucket like this one? You think they’d allow that?”
He smiles at Hannah. “Or did you two not get around to discussing it?”
Hannah is about to argue the point when she stops. Did Volkova ever explain why she was doing this particular job? Hannah can’t remember. Her mind is a mess. But surely …
Volkova’s shoulders aren’t squared any more. She’s not looking at any of them, and as Hannah watches she turns and starts marching towards the cockpit.
“Hey!” Seema shouts. “We’re not done here.”
Volkova keeps walking. Seema springs after her, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. Before she can get there, Volkova spins around, bellowing into Seema’s face.
“You want to know why?” she roars. Seema stops dead, hand still hovering in the air. “Because I am a dishonourable discharge. I made a bad decision, and I got my wingmen killed.” Her voice drops, just a fraction. “Marikit Santos. Lieutenant. John Smythe, Lieutenant Junior Grade. We made a run for a Colony frigate at Bellatrix under my command. I survived. They did not.”
Behind her, Corey says, “Holy shit.” His mom doesn’t bother to tell him not to swear.
“You ask me why I worked at Sigma?” Volkova is looking at Jack now, and now her voice is quiet, so quiet that Hannah has to strain to hear it over the engines. “It was the only job I could get. If the war was on, then maybe – maybe – they would bring me back to the Frontier Navy. But the war finished. So I fly the Red Panda, and I keep you alive. All of you.”
Nobody says anything. Brendan and Seema exchange a meaningful glance, but stay silent. Even Jack has gone quiet.
Volkova’s eyes find Hannah’s. She, too, says nothing.
Hannah’s mouth falls open. That was what nagged at her, when Volkova first told her the story about the Battle of Bellatrix. The Frontier lost – narrowly, and without too many casualties, but they still had to retreat. The Xi Jinping, the frigate Volkova said that she and her wingmen disabled, was still in service. Not only that: it was taken by the Frontier Navy as part of the Belarus Treaty. They talked about it in one of her seminars, back in college.
She remembers how easily Volkova told the story – how vivid she made it, how she put Hannah right in the cockpit of the fighter next to her. Like she was in a sim.
How long has Volkova been telling herself that story? Running it over and over in her head? Painting an alternative history, even as she spent her days shuttling tourists around Sigma
Station? Hannah wants to be angry at her – but how can she? What did Volkova have to gain by telling her the truth about what happened?
“Now you can question the prisoner. That is fine,” Volkova says to them. “But if you hurt him, I will put you in the airlock.”
Without another word, she turns and walks back to the cockpit.
Chapter 31
“He hasn’t said anything,” Everett tells Hannah, as she drops the last few feet into astronautics. “Hasn’t moved, either. Hey, what was going on up there? I heard shouting.”
Hannah opens her mouth to tell him, and gives up. She is way, way too tired. Above her, Jack is just starting to lower himself through the trapdoor; Brendan waiting above him to follow.
The prisoner is sitting against the wall. He’s been cuffed to a pipe, running horizontally along the wall. The pipe is high up his back, and it pulls his cuffed hands up behind him. As she approaches, Hannah gets an overwhelming urge to talk to her sister. Right now. She would give anything, absolutely anything, to have Callista put a hand on her shoulder, gently move her aside. Callie would know exactly what to do. She’d have this dialled.
But Callie isn’t here. It’s just her.
Hannah lowers herself to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the prisoner. Every movement she makes feels premeditated, loaded with meaning. She folds her hands in her lap, making herself meet those cold blue eyes.
“Come on,” says Seema from behind her. She and her husband are standing alongside Jack, packing the small space. She still sounds furious. “You know he isn’t going to say anything if we ask like this. Why would he?”
“Got that right,” says Jack.
Hannah ignores them. “My name is Hannah Elliott,” she tells the man. “I’m the tour guide on this ship. Or was. We were on a tour round Sigma Station when you …”
She stops, unsure how to say it. When you destroyed it all? When you killed everyone? The man’s face gives back nothing. She might as well be talking to a statue.
“What’s your name?” she says.
No answer.
“She asked you a question, brother,” says Brendan.
Hannah flashes him a warning look. Behind him, Anita is just making her way down the ladder. The space is getting crowded, and it’s not helping.
“OK, well,” she says, pushing ahead. “If you don’t want to tell me your name, that’s fine. But maybe you can tell me why you … well, why you did what you did. This isn’t a law court, we’re not judging guilt or innocence here—”
“Are you serious?” Jack says.
Hannah looks over her shoulder at him. “Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” She can’t believe her anger. Maybe what Volkova said got to her, or maybe it’s just because she is sick to death of Jack’s shit. She points at him, then at Brendan and Seema. “All of you. Get out. I’ll handle this.”
“We’re not leaving,” Brendan says. “What if he gets loose? You planning on taking him down by yourself, then?”
“This is bullshit,” Jack mutters.
“No,” says Hannah. “What’s bullshit is you acting like you’re going to torture him. That’s not going to happen.”
Seema’s eyes flash, but she says nothing.
“No, Hannah’s right,” Everett says. They all turn to look at him. “We should at least try to talk to him like a human being, and we should do it without all of us crowding him in like this.”
“You’re acting like he’s a wounded animal,” Seema says, jabbing a finger at the prisoner. “He and his crew murdered about ten thousand people with—”
“Leave it.” Brendan puts a hand on Seema’s shoulder. He sounds exhausted. “Let ’em try, if they want. Won’t make any difference in the long run.”
He shrugs her off, but doesn’t look back at Hannah. Instead, he and Seema make their way up the ladder. Jack lingers the longest, looking like he wants to say more. Then he, too, climbs back up the ladder, vanishing onto the main deck.
“I’d like to stay, if that’s all right,” Anita says.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I do. I work for the Frontier, remember? I might be able to help.”
Hannah looks over at Everett, leaning against the wall. “I’m staying too,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’m not getting involved. And ’Nita’s right – she should be here.”
Anita gives him a surprised smile.
Hannah turns back to the prisoner. No change. She looks over his spacesuit, hoping to spot a name tag, even a serial number. Nothing. Just that weird patch with the daggers. Maybe they should try and take it off him, see if he’s wearing a uniform underneath …
He’s still staring at her. “I’m just trying to understand,” she says. “We were doing a tour of the station, so we … we saw what your ship did. Maybe you can tell me why.”
Still nothing. His expression doesn’t change. Of course, it’s entirely possible that he doesn’t speak English. It might be the most common language, but that doesn’t necessarily mean much. There are, what, five hundred-odd languages across Frontier and Colony? And on the Panda, they’ve got English, Russian, and … well, that’s it. No, wait, she’s sure she heard Lorinda speaking Spanish a couple of times. A whole three languages. Joy. If he’d just say something …
“What about the gate?” she says. “Why destroy it? Surely you needed to escape, too?”
Behind her, Everett shifts, as if getting ready to say something. He doesn’t. Astronautics is cold – not as cold as the bar, but still chilly – and Hannah shivers, the bare skin on her arms prickling.
She tries another tack. “I know it feels like you’ve got nothing to lose right now,” she says. “But we’re not going to hurt you. All anyone we want to do is get home, so I’m just trying to understand how your ship planned to get out.”
“If I could jump in here?” Anita says.
She doesn’t wait for Hannah to OK it. “Hi. I’m Anita Livingstone. I’m a lobbying consultant for the Frontier. I work for Senator Daniels? Tom Daniels?”
Nothing.
“Maybe you don’t know that name – I hear the feeds in the Colonies are censored sometimes. He’s helping renegotiate the Belarus Treaty with your government. Ring any bells?”
Anita pauses for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. Hannah glances at Everett, who gives a helpless shrug.
“What I’m trying to understand,” Anita goes on, “is why the Colony would attack now. They’re reaching an accord on the treaty. I mean, I know you’re probably going to have to give over control of a couple of outposts to the Frontier, but surely that’s not bad enough to start another war over, is it? So why attack us?”
For the first time, the prisoner reacts. He raises his chin to Anita, and gives her a quick, amused smile. It vanishes as fast as it arrives.
“Look,” Anita says. “If you talk to us, I can get you a deal with the Frontier. You could defect. You—”
“Let me explain how this is going to go,” the prisoner says.
Anita stops, startled. The man’s voice is monotone, gravelly, his tone lazy and languorous. Hannah can’t place his accent – it’s American, which isn’t unheard of in the Colonies, but there are traces of other nationalities there, too, from multiple planets, flitting in and out at the edges. At least he speaks English. There’s still a chance they could –
“The only reason I’m in these cuffs,” he continues, “is because you got lucky. You outnumbered me, I was still in my suit, and I was suffering from oxygen depletion.”
He turns to Anita, his eyes drilling into hers. When he speaks again, he sounds almost bored. “You’re going to keep trying to get me to give you information. I’m going to keep ignoring you. We both know you won’t torture me, thanks to the little display with your friends.”
He jerks his chin up towards the hatch. “Besides, you don’t have the stomach for it. None of you do. And, sooner or later, you’re goin
g to make a mistake. One of you is going to mess up, and I’m going to get free. I should be in better shape by then, because you’re going to give me food and water, and let me sleep. Which means everything that happens next is a foregone conclusion. It’d be quicker for you if you just let me go now.”
“So you’re just going to kill everyone?” Hannah’s voice is shaking. “We’ve got kids on board.”
“And what does it matter?” says Everett. He sounds calm, but he’s clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides. “Even if you … if you killed us all, you’d still be stuck out—”
He stops dead, his eyes going wide.
“Ev?” Anita says.
“He thinks he’s going to be rescued.”
“But there’s—”
“Don’t you get it?” He points at the prisoner. “He must have backup or something. Another ship out here. A station we don’t know about. Maybe even another jump gate.”
“We would have seen them,” Hannah says. She’s trying to process what Everett is saying, aware that they’re doing this in front of the prisoner, who is watching her with a faintly amused look on his face. “They would have found us, or the captain would have picked them up on radar or something. It doesn’t make sense.”
“None of this makes sense.” Everett bellows the words, causing Anita to jerk like she’s touched a live wire. “Find me another reason why he’s trying to kill—”
“You want to talk about killing?” The prisoner’s voice is quiet, cold as space itself. “You just killed eleven of the finest soldiers I’ve ever served with. I don’t know how, but you pulled it off. Congratulations. Now tell me: did you ever consider that maybe I’m not interested in being rescued any more?”
In the silence that follows, Hannah has to almost physically will herself to speak. “You killed thousands of people,” she says.
He shrugs. He actually shrugs. “Did you know all those thousands of people?” He looks from her to Everett, his expression unchanged. “How about you? No? Well, here’s the difference, and this one you get for free. No torture necessary. I knew every one of those eleven soldiers. Every single one.”
