Adrift

by Rob Boffard

  It’s not even that hard to see who would benefit. The soldiers who would suddenly have jobs again. The companies who would scoop up the profits. Like the leisure companies and tourist conglomerates, sweeping in to build new luxury resorts in reclaimed territory. As with Sigma, it would happen fast.

  And, of course, the Frontier itself: all that new territory, all those resources. Assuming they won. Assuming the return to war didn’t kill millions.

  Then she realises something else. Something that makes her stomach feel like it’s being slowly filled with ice water.

  Hannah makes her way over, squats down in front of Roman. She half expects him to lash out, even finds herself tensing, waiting for it. Instead, all he does is lock those cold, blue eyes on hers.

  “What happens when you don’t come back from your mission?” she says. Behind her, the others are deathly quiet. “What happens then?”

  “Wait, what?” Jack says.

  Roman says nothing.

  Malik sucks in a horrified breath behind Hannah – he must have realised where she’s going. She leans forward, pushing back the fear, staring right into Roman’s face.

  “Your ship,” she says. “Is it the only one that can jump?”

  “Oh,” Corey says, his voice very, very small.

  The pieces are locking into place in Hannah’s mind. Roman told them before that when he got free he’d kill them. At the time, they assumed it was about revenge, that he’d do it because he thought he had nothing left to lose. What if they got that wrong? What if it wasn’t about revenge … but rescue? What if Roman knew that if his ship didn’t return from its mission, someone would come looking for him? Coming to find out what went wrong, and, if necessary, bring the soldiers in the first ship home?

  “You’re saying there’re more of those things?” says Malik.

  “How many more?” Hannah leans in closer, not even caring if Roman does lunge at her. She has to know. “Roman. How many?”

  He still doesn’t say anything. But slowly, like oil spreading through water, a dull smile creeps onto his face.

  Chapter 51

  Hannah rocks back on her heels like she’s been punched. The dream floods back into her head: the metal sphere, detonating, the fire engulfing her parents, her house, everything, while she’s stuck in the cab, powerless to stop it.

  “How are we supposed to fight off another one of those ships?” Malik looks stunned. “Or more than one?”

  “No way there’s more than one,” says Jack.

  “What if there is?”

  In her mind, Hannah sees not two or three attack ships, but a whole fleet of them – and an ocean of spheres, all of them heading right towards the Panda.

  Jack crosses over to them, stands over Roman, flexing his torn fingers as if he can’t decide whether or not to hit him. Hannah barely notices. Get away. We have to get away.

  She stumbles across the main deck, feeling as if her knees are about to let go. The last time she felt like this was at the going-away party she had with some old college friends, a few nights before she climbed aboard the shuttle to Sigma. It was one of the few times she’d drunk enough to have a hangover the next day.

  They’d gone to a sports bar, a rowdy place with frozen margaritas and really bad nachos, and at some point she’d got up to go to the bathroom, still saying something to her friend Alex, and found that she could barely walk. The three margaritas and two vodkas she’d had had taken away her legs and replaced them with planks of rotten wood. She’d been drunk plenty of times before, but never like that.

  And then she’s in the cockpit, not remembering her walk through the passage. She drops into the pilot’s chair, forgetting how it made her feel before. It’s pushed way back from the control panel, far away enough for her to extend her legs completely.

  They’ve wasted so much time, fighting each other while another one of those ships was coming. Are they here already? Would they jump in close to the destroyed gate? The station? Somewhere else? How long did the original ship have before it was to report back? Before whoever sent it – the people who wanted the treaty with the Colonies gone – decides they’ve waited long enough?

  She pulls the chair forward, but it won’t budge. She tries again, grunting in frustration, then scoots out of her chair and onto the floor, hands running along the back and sides of the chair. She finds the catch almost immediately, although she nearly cuts her fingers in it as she slides it up.

  In seconds, she’s up against the cockpit controls, reaching back to lock the chair into place. Her legs fit comfortably in the gap now, although the edge of the seat digs into her thighs.

  As she looks up, she sees the craziest thing: the Reptar toy. It’s made it up from the bar, and is now perched on the edge of the control console. She has no idea who put it there, or when, but it makes the whole situation even more surreal than it is.

  Moving the stick has no effect. It sets off the panic again, digging claws into her abdomen. Her hands are too sweaty, slipping on the slick plastic. She makes herself take a deep breath, then another, forcing herself to look away from the viewport.

  “Hannah?” Jack’s voice comes from the doorway.

  “Not now.”

  How are they going to pilot this thing? Volkova made it look easy, piloting the Panda like an extension of her body. Hannah can’t even grasp how much skill she had. She’ll never figure this out, not in a million years, even when she gets the ship onto manual mode, however the hell she makes that happen …

  Jack is silent for a few seconds. “If there’s another ship,” he says quietly. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Run?”

  The Panda is drifting, very slowly. The remains of Roman’s ship are visible now, a corona of debris spreading out from the wreck.

  Hannah looks up at Jack, and, suddenly, doesn’t care enough to pretend. “If another ship does come, it’s over. We’re over. We can’t outrun it. Not like the captain did.”

  But he isn’t looking at her. He’s looking out of the viewport, leaning over with his hands braced on the control panel, the strangest expression on his face. Staring up at what’s left of Roman’s ship.

  He mutters something, more to himself than to her.

  “What?” she says.

  He turns to her. “Maybe we don’t have to.”

  Chapter 52

  Jack doesn’t wait around to explain. He turns and bolts, leaving behind a startled Hannah and sprinting back onto the main deck, the idea burning bright in his mind. If he can make this work –

  His left knee tags the edge of a plastic seat, and he almost trips. With what feels like every ounce of will he has, he manages to keep himself upright. In front of him, Everett and Lorinda are standing over Roman like twin judges, Malik and Anita are sitting next to Corey, she with her arm wrapped around her younger son.

  Jack lurches forwards, pushing past a startled Everett, coming to a stop in front of Roman. He’s aware of how he must look: his shirt caked with dried blood, his hair sticking up in weird directions. But he knows he’s right. He has to be.

  “The other ship,” he says. “It’s coming the same way, right? It’s jumping in by itself?”

  “What do you mean, we don’t have to?” Hannah shouts from the cockpit passage.

  Lorinda puts a hand on his shoulder, but Jack shakes it off. “No, just listen to me, all right, what if—”

  “Cool it,” Everett says dangerously.

  “No, just listen. All I want him to do is—”

  “Who cares, man?” says Malik. He can’t keep the despondency out of his voice. “They’ll just shoot the second they see us.”

  Jack ignores him, finding Roman’s eyes. Dimly, he’s aware of how much they all stink, their body odour feeling like it’s caking on his skin. A few hours ago, it would have rankled, become one of the many hornets buzzing around his mind. Now he barely notices it.

  “I don’t know who you are,” he says to Roman. “None of us do.
But if you can—”

  Everett’s hand is on his shoulder. Jack tries to buck it off, but this time Everett holds on, pulling Jack to his feet. Jack wrenches himself away, almost toppling onto Corey. He pulls himself back just in time, holding up a hand, trying to calm them down.

  An image comes to him. Sitting in the office in DC, rewriting copy, mind not really on the task. Hum from the spaceport dulled by the closed windows, the crappy aircon buzzing. Thinking about that weekend, about Hector. About São Paulo.

  About the Portuguese lessons he’s been taking, the job boards he’s been sneaking peeks at. The apartment listings he’s spent a few evenings poring over. Then the call, coming up from an unknown number in his lens, the one that turned out to be Hec’s boss. The one moment in his life where he thought everything had fallen into place, and the one moment where it all went wrong.

  Except that’s not true. No point kidding himself any more. Nothing has happened since then that he couldn’t fix – not the drinking, not the job, not the fallout with Hector, none of it. He could have climbed back anytime, if he’d just put his mind to it.

  No, where it really went wrong was when he allowed Brendan and Seema to murder Jana Volkova. That’s not something that can be undone with a little willpower. But he’s got to start somewhere, and this is it. It has to be.

  He wipes at his nose, clearing away a thick, gummy clot of blood. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything.”

  Part of him wants to stop there, sure that it’ll be enough, but he knows it won’t be. “I know you don’t have any reason to listen to a word I’m saying. But I’m asking you, just … hear me out. If you don’t like what I have to say, that’s fine, but please. Just listen.”

  He expects them to protest. Maybe even to stop him before he’s finished speaking. They don’t.

  A moment passes. Then another. Hannah glances at Anita and Everett, at Lorinda. Then she clears her throat, gives a tight nod.

  Jack takes a second, arranging the words in his head. “If there’s another ship coming, that means we have a ticket out of here.”

  Anita lets out a sarcastic half-laugh, shaking her head. Jack has to work very hard not to raise his voice. “I know it sounds crazy. There’s no reason for them to do it. But if we can—”

  “Aren’t you forgetting?” Hannah says. “We have two spacesuits. And …” she looks around. “Eight people. Nine, counting Brendan. How were you planning on getting across?”

  “We could ferry each other. Two people go across, one de-suits, the other one brings the suit back, then—”

  “Oh, right. And the crew of Frontier soldiers who want to kill us will just wave us all on board. Sounds like a solid plan.”

  “Let’s say we do take the ship from them.” Anita sounds exhausted. “We’d have to make the jump. Us. Do you even know how?”

  “Could you do it?” Everett says to Lorinda.

  From behind him, Jack hears Malik mutter “Seriously?” like he can’t believe his dad could be so dumb.

  Lorinda is kinder, but not by much. “It’s not mining equipment. You want a rock drill recalibrated, I’m your girl. This is a little above my pay grade.”

  “But if you could just try …”

  “No, you don’t get it,” Jack says, pointing, cocking his finger so it’s aimed over Hannah’s shoulder at Roman. This whole thing might have started with him, but he’s been silent the whole time. “He knows the ship. He knows the system. We get him to help us.”

  Roman actually laughs. It’s not a pleasant sound.

  “He tried to kill us,” Hannah says. “You think he’ll just switch to our side because, why, exactly?”

  “It’s worth a shot,” Everett says. “We’re dead anyway. Might as well give it a try.”

  “Ev,” Anita says. “The boys, they … you shouldn’t talk like that when they’re with us.”

  He turns to her. “I know.”

  “Then why are you—”

  “Because that’s what’s happening! Right now!”

  The words are a bellow. His voice cracks on the last word. The outburst is so loud that Jack expects Anita to cower. Instead, she bristles, her eyes narrowing. “They don’t need to hear this,” she shouts back.

  “We are way past that. We—”

  “Both of you, shut up.” Lorinda’s voice is loud, but it fails to make a dent. And then Hannah is shouting, and Jack tries to intervene, and Everett shoves him away, and that sets everyone off. The main deck of the Panda explodes with angry voices.

  “Stop it!”

  There’s so much pain in Corey’s high-pitched voice, so much fury, that it shuts everyone up.

  Malik stares at his brother with something like awe. Even Roman looks surprised. Jack has a hand on Everett’s arm, gripping it hard, and he has to tell himself to let go.

  “You’re always fighting,” Corey says. There are tears pouring down his face, his cheeks red and puffy. He speaks slowly, taking each word like a boulder he has to climb over, shimmying up the face of it. “This whole time. We can’t go more than five seconds without someone starting a fight.”

  “Corey.” Anita tries to make her voice soft, but it’s drained of energy. “Honey.”

  “No, Mom,” he says. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend it isn’t true. Everybody just fights. Even you and Dad.”

  Everett steps in. “Corey, we’re not.”

  “Yes, you are!” He shifts his leg, actually has to lift it up with his hands to do it, grimacing, like he’s moving a heavy plank of wood. “And you’re gonna – hghh – you’re gonna get divorced. You always were.”

  “That’s not true.” Everett sounds confident, but Jack can’t help but notice his quick glance at his wife.

  “Of course it’s true,” Corey says, his voice bitter. “That’s what adults do. They fight. And not … not pretend fighting like me and Mal sometimes. Real fighting.” More tears come, tracking down his reddened cheeks. “And then nothing gets done, and …”

  “Cor,” Malik says quietly.

  “And then you just …” Corey finally stops, lowering his head, his shoulders hitching.

  Anita takes an unsteady step forward. Then another. Then she’s down on her knees, pulling Corey into an embrace, reaching out for Malik. Everett comes in, too, holding his family close.

  Jack finds Hannah’s eyes, then Lorinda’s. He can’t hold either for more than a few seconds. The certainty he felt before has faded. Corey’s right. All they’ve done is fight among themselves, like – he corrects himself – not like children, because right now the kids on this goddamn ship are the only ones doing anything right.

  As if picking up on his thoughts, Corey’s voice comes out of the huddle, muffled by his mother’s shoulder. “Everybody go somewhere. I’ll talk to Roman.”

  “Corey,” Hannah says slowly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Corey’s voice is still thick. He lifts his face from Anita’s shoulder. “You heard my dad. We’re dead anyway. What difference does it make?”

  Everett looks embarrassed. “I wasn’t … I mean …”

  “No, Dad, you were right. But I’m the only one who’s actually tried to talk to him like a person. No one else has. So just give me five minutes. He’s not going to get free, I promise.”

  Anita tries to protest, crying openly now. But Corey reaches out, his hand finding hers, and she nods. She and Everett get to their feet, and Everett gestures to Malik to follow him.

  Corey shakes his head. “Mal stays.”

  “Why?” Malik says, frowning.

  Corey doesn’t answer immediately, just looks back at his dad. Anita tugs on her husband’s shoulder, pulling him gently away.

  Jack takes one last look at Roman. The soldier returns his gaze, cool and even, and a swirl of emotions coalesce in Jack’s chest. He wants to grab Roman and smash his head against the ground. He wants to run screaming. He wants to rage, punch the walls. But more than anything, he realises, h
e wants to sleep. He wants it all to go away.

  Quietly, he, Hannah and the others trudge to the far side of the main deck. As they do so, Jack raises his head to see the Horsehead Nebula above them, shining, silent. The only thing in this whole mess that hasn’t changed at all.

  Chapter 53

  Corey waits until the others are out of earshot before turning to his brother. “Mal. Help me sit up.”

  Malik has his hands resting on his knees, eyes down, like a student not wanting to be called on by a teacher. His holocam is still tucked under his arm. Belatedly, Corey realises just how scared his brother must be of hurting him, and he forces a smile onto his face. “It’s OK. Just help me.”

  “You sure?”

  Corey responds by pushing himself up so his hands are splayed out on the seat behind him. He starts to swing his legs off the plastic, so Malik has no choice but to help.

  Together, with a lot grunting, they manage to get Corey upright. Malik has to use his own body to prop his brother up, Corey leaning against his shoulder. The pain has retreated again, pushed back by the last pill he took.

  He doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to say, but he knows that he’s the only one who can talk to Roman. The others’ll just mess things up, start shouting again. Problem is, he doesn’t know how. Not yet. This isn’t like before, when he told Roman about the thrusters. This is different.

  And if he can’t figure out how to convince Roman to help them, then it really will be over. He cannot get Roman angry with him again – not like last time. He has to be careful.

  “This is Malik, by the way,” he says. “He’s five years older than me.”

  Roman turns his glare on Malik. After a few seconds, he gives the briefest of nods.

  Corey continues. “He was the one who filmed your ship destroying the station. Do you want to see?” He nods to his brother. “Show him, Mal.”

  For a moment, Malik looks like he wants to run. Then he pulls the cam out and turns it on with the practised flick of a finger. He opens his movie app, scrolling through the footage, face blank with concentration.