by Rob Boffard
Corey gapes. What would it mean if you could jump anywhere, instantly, without having to rely on the jump gate network?
“How?” he says. “How do you keep the wormhole stable? Where do you get the energy?”
“I just help fly the ship, kid.”
“But is there like a limit? To how far you can jump? And what about size – like, does the ship have to be below a certain length or weight class? Or could you take a really big ship, an Antares or something, and—”
But Roman is already shaking his head. “Sorry. Deal’s a deal. No more questions.”
A thin crackle of pain sneaks up Corey’s leg, but he ignores it. “If it were me, I’d … I dunno, go places where we haven’t put gates yet. Places where we’ve never been, like the Crab Nebula. Or all the way out by the Orion Arm. I’d go to other galaxies. I wouldn’t go blow up one of my own stations, unless there was a really, really good reason to— Wait, how much are you being paid?”
“What?”
“Someone paid you a lot of money to take out the station. That’s why you did it.” It all makes sense now. It’d have to be a lot of money, but Corey can see it. Kind of. Maybe. “They gave you that ship, paid you half up front, and said you’d get the rest when the job was done. That’s how it works, right?”
A very scary look comes onto Roman’s face – a look that stops Corey cold.
“I didn’t,” the soldier says slowly, “do it for money.”
“So you did it for free?” The words are out before he can stop them. Then again, what’s Roman going to do? He can look as scary as he wants, but he can’t hurt Corey, not tied up like he is.
Roman’s voice is very quiet, and very dark. “You don’t know a single thing about what we did.”
“Then tell me!” This time, Corey forgets to keep his voice down. “If it wasn’t money, and there wasn’t a virus you had to wipe out or something, then why? It must have been worth the risk, because it’s super-illegal. Did you have a plan for when you got back? Like, stash the ship somewhere, and—”
In response, Roman looks over to Malik. “Hey.”
Malik jolts, springing to his feet, almost dropping the holocam. He looks between Corey and the soldier, eyes huge.
“You should tell your little brother not to talk to strangers,” Roman says.
“What?”
Corey doesn’t hear Roman’s response. Right then, his leg sends up another jolt of pain, and this one is much, much worse. He squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, trying to ride it out. Trying not to scream.
Chapter 49
Roman hadn’t meant to get angry. He’d actually been … well, maybe not enjoying the conversation, but tolerating it, at least. And then, the kid had gone and started accusing him of taking money. Which had slammed the conversation shut like a book.
It had reminded him of who these people were. They were pampered, sheltered. Protected by men like him. They didn’t know a single thing about honour, or sacrifice. He’d allowed himself to think that the kid was different, but he wasn’t. He was exactly the same.
In the world of problem, solution, action, these people had no place.
The kid thinks there’s money involved – that Roman would just sell his services for profit, like a common merc. Fine. If that’s the case, let him wonder. He, Roman, doesn’t owe these people a goddamn thing – least of all the reasons why they were out in this useless, nowhere quadrant in the first place.
He tries to calm his thoughts, focusing on the solution, and then the action. Get free, and await extraction.
But, despite himself, he marvels at how Corey refuses to quit. Even as his brother gets between them, the kid is still asking questions. Why’d he do it? Who else was on his ship? Were they planning on warping out? He’s in pain, his face contorted with the effort, his brother fumbling with a pack of meds, looking back at Corey in puzzlement, but he’s still going.
Before, he thought the kid hadn’t told the others about which side he was on because he wanted to establish trust. Maybe it’s more than that. Maybe the kid just wanted to know as much as possible, before anybody else. He probably didn’t even realise he was doing it.
And as he considers this, another, more unsettling thought slides through his mind.
What was it the kid had said? Did you have a plan for when you got back? There was a plan – they’d discussed it in the hangar where they built the ships. Every part of the mission, from inception to order of operations to debrief to fallout – had been discussed in detail.
The problem is: he doesn’t trust Hayes.
The man who sent him out here – him, and the rest of his crew – had promised them revenge for what was done to them. Promised it, and given them the tools to carry it out.
Roman had wanted it too badly – while he’d known it was a possibility that Hayes would betray them, he’d pushed it aside. He’d spent ten years waiting for payback, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way.
Maybe that was a mistake, because how difficult would it be, really, for Hayes to eliminate them after the mission was over? The jump drives were unstable, and who’s to say that Hayes couldn’t engineer –
No. Don’t do that. Hayes wouldn’t dare. Not to his own men. He’s second-guessing himself, losing his focus. He let the kid get to him, and now he’s concocting fantasies based on … what, exactly? A hunch?
He’s known from the start that Hayes had his own reasons for sending them out here – reasons that had nothing to do with revenge. It bothered him a lot less than he thought – after all, as long as he got what he wanted, then he couldn’t give a shit about Hayes’ payoff. But now, he’s starting to wonder …
He has no time to dwell on this, because here comes mommy dearest. Striding down the line of seats towards them, a look of grim determination on her face. Strands of loose hair are plastered across her forehead, and in one hand she’s holding a jagged piece of glass.
So.
“Malik,” she says, coming to a halt. “When did Corey last have a pill?”
The kid almost drops the pack of nanomeds. “Um. A while ago. We—”
“Give him one more. Then I need you and him—” she gestures behind her to the man with the busted nose, trailing in her wake “—to take him down to the bar.”
“What?” Corey says. “No. I’m fine.”
His brother’s eyes land on the shard of glass. “Uh …”
“Malik. Do as I say. And when you get to the bar, you stay there until we come get you.”
“Mom.” Corey is up on his elbows, staring at her in horror. “Mom, no. Where’s Dad? Dad!”
They don’t get him to take a pain pill – he pushes them away, angry now, yelling at his mom to stop – but they manage to get him upright, holding him under his arms, keeping his legs off the ground. Mom sits down in front of Roman, holding the piece of glass in two hands, like a protective talisman.
He almost laughs. They might cut him, a little, but he’s withstood far worse. Interrogation training, back in the advanced ops course, was one of the worst things he’d ever been through, especially when they started working on his fingernails. They could push that part of the programme further than they used to, thanks to advanced nanomeds to heal the damage.
If this bitch with her little piece of glass thinks she can break him, she’s sorely mistaken. She’ll get five minutes in, then realise she doesn’t have the stomach for it.
“You’re going to tell me why you did it, and how,” she says, her voice only shaking a little.
He smiles at her.
“Mom! Don’t!”
“Quit it, Cor.” But his brother looks terrified, eyes flicking between his sibling and his mother.
“Last chance,” she says.
She’s going to do it, he realises. She’s scared shitless, but she’s going to do it. He braces himself, slowing his breathing, readying his body for the pain. Likely, she’ll start at the face. Cheek, maybe. Nothing he can’t handl
e.
“Stop it!” Corey wrenches free of the two people holding him, collapsing to the deck, howling in agony. His mom whips her head around, exploding off the seat and skidding to her knees by his side.
“His name’s Roman!” Corey’s voice is ragged, breathless, terrified. “His name’s Roman. He’s a Frontier soldier, he’s on our side.”
Chapter 50
“Is it this one?” Everett says.
He’s squashed in next to Hannah in the cockpit. She’s perched on the edge of the chair – she can’t bring herself to fully sit down on it yet. The two of them are tapping through the various menus on the console screens: every time they have to make a decision, there’s a moment of awkward, silent hesitation, as if they don’t want to contradict each other.
Hannah peers at the option Everett is pointing to: Nitrogen PO+8. “Maybe. Could we—”
Which is when Corey’s yelling reaches them.
She and Everett exchange a split-second glance, then both bolt for the door, nearly getting in each other’s way, almost getting stuck in the narrow passage. When they burst onto the main deck, Corey is still shouting.
Everett sprints across, dropping to his knees by his son’s side. Hannah feels a guilty twinge of relief. Whatever’s happening out here, at least it means she doesn’t have to be in the cockpit. Hunting for a way to kill them.
It takes a minute for Corey to calm down – and to start explaining. Anita makes him take another nanomed first, which he swallows, grimacing as it goes down. As he tells them about the ion thrusters he saw on the footage, Hannah frowns. She and Everett exchange a blank look.
“OK,” Anita says slowly, when he’s finished. She’s trembling a little, still holding the piece of glass she was planning to use on Roman. “But, Corey, are you sure—”
Corey talks over her. “The thrusters are Frontier tech. He told me I was right.” He points at the prisoner, who still hasn’t moved. His expression is blank.
“Bullshit,” says Jack.
“It’s not bullshit!” Corey says.
“Of course it is.” Jack reaches up to touch his nose, thinks better of it. “He’s lying to you.”
“Roman isn’t lying! He said—”
“Is that actually your name?” Lorinda says. “Your real one?”
The man shrugs.
“No, no, no,” Everett says. “Don’t just … don’t just ignore her. Yes or no, is that your name?”
“Yes.” The man – Roman – sounds mildly exasperated.
Everett rubs the bridge of his nose. Jack, who is looking right at him, winces. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” he asks his son.
For the first time, Corey seems unsure. He looks down at the floor, as if trying to collect his thoughts. It makes him look even younger than he is.
“Wait, hang on,” Hannah says, trying to collect her thoughts. “This can’t be right. Why would the Frontier do something like this? The whole station was … it was a mining outpost!”
“Oh my God,” Anita says.
Everyone turns to look at her.
“I couldn’t understand why the Colonies would attack a Frontier station,” she says. “I kept thinking about it, but it didn’t make any sense. Not when they’re about to finalise a treaty renegotiation that would keep them out of war for a while.”
She looks over at Roman. “The only thing …” She swallows, the noise way too loud on the silent deck. “The only thing that would dissolve the treaty completely is if one side attacked the other.”
“But that’s insane,” Hannah says. “Why would the Frontier want to—”
“Because they’d get it all,” says Everett. He turns to his wife, horror dawning on his face. “Isn’t that right? They wouldn’t just get a few outposts.”
“But they wouldn’t do that,” Lorinda says. “They wouldn’t just kill thousands of their own people!”
“Exactly.” Jack wipes a speck of blood off his top lip. “They could just assassinate a Frontier official, or something. Wouldn’t that be easier? Pretend the Colonies did it?”
Anita looks like she wants to pass out. She closes her eyes, speaking slowly, as if she wants to be absolutely sure of her words.
“Because this is way more effective,” she says.
Hannah blinks. “Oh, come on.”
“It is. So you kill a Frontier senator – which isn’t a walk in the park, by the way – and then what? The Colonies would just deny it. It might make the Senate dissolve the treaty, or it might not. And it’s way too risky. But if you could take out a whole station … there’s no way the Colony could claim an entire ship with a whole crew and advanced tech went rogue.”
“Of course they could!”
“And could you see anyone believing them?” She shakes her head. “The Senate would have to declare war. They’d have no choice.”
She takes a long, shaky breath. “Someone decided to take a shortcut. Start the whole war up again, without waiting for negotiations or legislation.” She’s shaking her head, staring at Roman with barely disguised fury. “Make out like the Colonies attacked first. That way, the Senate would authorise emergency action. Dissolve the treaty, go in, wipe out the Colony forces.”
“Whoa,” Corey says. He looks annoyed, like he wishes he’d thought of this first.
“But how did they get close, without clearance codes?” Hannah asks.
“They had clearance codes,” Anita says. “They’re one of ours. That’s why the station defences didn’t activate until it was too late.”
“Son of a bitch.” Jack takes a step towards Roman, who looks completely unperturbed.
“So it was someone in the Navy?” Hannah says. “A general, something like that? Someone who gets it into their head to tip the scales in the Senate.”
Malik clears his throat. “Can I just ask a question? If we … if they were going to blow us all up, and pretend they were Colony, then wouldn’t they need people to know about it?”
Corey jumps in. “They wouldn’t have to. The Frontier probably sent a bunch of probes through, right? They could destroy as many as they wanted, and then when they were ready, just let one travel back. It’d show there was a Colony ship here.”
“Hang on,” Jack says, not bothering to contain his frustration. “If they destroyed the gate, then how were they planning to get home?”
“Special forces tech,” Corey says.
“What?”
Corey takes a deep, pained breath. “Their ship can jump without using a gate.”
The main deck is silent for exactly three seconds. Then everybody starts shouting at once.
Malik is telling Corey not to be stupid, Everett saying there’s no way, that it isn’t physically possible, Jack saying it’s bullshit, all complete bullshit, that humans would never be able to make the jump, and anyway –
“Enough!” Hannah yells.
She’s a little startled when everybody does shut up, looking at her expectantly. Roman’s expression, she notices, has changed. There’s a note of amusement on his stone face now, a slight crinkling of the eyes. It makes her want to punch him.
“It can’t be true,” she says. “That’s the whole point of having jump gates. Humans need them to go through wormholes, right?”
“They figured it out.” Corey points at Roman. “I know it sounds weird, but can you think of anything else that makes sense?”
“Even if he told you this, what makes you think he’s telling the truth? Wouldn’t we know if someone invented a way for ships to jump without using gates? Wouldn’t they … I don’t know, publish it or something?”
“We’d never seen those metal balls before,” Corey says. “Or the ion thrusters. If they really did build a gate that a single ship could carry, do you think they’d just tell everybody straight away? ’Cos I wouldn’t. I’d keep it a secret until I needed it.”
“Jesus.” Everett has gone grey. “If there really was …” He looks around at them. “It’d be a game changer. You wouldn�
��t have to depend on existing wormholes. You could go anywhere.”
“But they came to the station normally,” Malik says.
Hannah frowns. “Normally?”
“Like normal ships do. They flew in. If they could just use their own wormhole, then why—”
“Maybe. But it’d be safer to do it somewhere else, then fly in.” Everett actually laughs. “That way, they could keep it a secret, even if someone did escape. Like we did. And we only did that because the captain knew what she was doing.”
Lorinda shakes her head, hugging herself tighter under the blanket. “I don’t buy it.”
“They blew up the gate,” Corey says. “Why do that if they couldn’t get out of here themselves?”
“But why Sigma?”
Anita gives a short, bitter laugh. “They could have picked anywhere. Plenty of outlying stations – could have been a research station, or a mining colony. We were just unlucky.”
“Wouldn’t it damage the economy?” Lorinda sounds indignant. “Mining’s important, you know.”
“Not really,” Anita says, having the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “Or, at least, not as much as it used to be. If they’d hit one of the big Kuiper outposts, or Proxima, then maybe. But something Sigma’s size? They’d absorb the hit. The Senate would think they’d been attacked by the Colonies. It wouldn’t take much to push them into war.”
The silence that falls this time is worse than before. Hannah can’t process what she’s feeling. There’s anger, sure, anger at how Roman and his superiors used everyone on Sigma Station as pawns. But there’s also fear – no, dread. It’s the dread of walking on the edge of a very big, very dark hole, knowing that one breath of wind, a single false step, could send you plummeting into the darkness. The idea that someone in the Frontier could do this … kill all those people …
