by Gary Gibson
Light flashed from beyond the opening, sparkling on Martinez’s shoulder and burning a dark circle into the fabric of his suit.
Corso yelled and dropped down through the roof of the car, as Martinez staggered backwards. Corso squeezed into the tight space and managed to fire off a couple of blind shots through the half-open door.
He heard a muffled thump, then silence.
‘That was stupid of me,’ gasped Martinez, who had fallen back, one gloved hand pressed against his shoulder.
Corso smelled burning flesh, and forced a surge of bile back down his throat. ‘Shit, I think I might actually have got him,’ he said, listening carefully.
He moved forward cautiously, turning sideways to squeeze between the two buckled doors and peer through the rank, oily smoke.
The lights inside the centrifuge ring were much brighter than throughout the rest of the ship. Corso edged forward until he almost stumbled across the body of a young woman slumped forward on the gently curving deck. One side of her face was burned and blackened, and her weapon lay nearby. Headshots from a pulse-rifle such as his own were invariably fatal.
He stood up and pulled his glove back on, but found to his surprise that his hands were shaking so hard it took a couple of attempts. He drew in a couple of deep breaths, and ignored the welter of regret and shame floating just under his thoughts. They still had to get to the bridge.
Hearing a grunt from behind, he turned to see Lamoureaux helping Martinez out through the elevator doors. Martinez spared the dead girl only a brief glance, but Lamoureaux stared at her corpse in open-mouthed horror.
‘Let’s get moving,’ said Martinez, stepping on past the body.
Corso put a hand on his chest. ‘Wait a second, you’re not going anywhere. You’ve just been shot—’
Martinez met his gaze. ‘Right now our priority is to get to the bridge. Soon as we’re in control there, I can go to the med-bay. But not before.’
The Mjollnir felt deserted without its full complement of crew. Like a ghost ship, Ty thought, as he and Olivarri moved along echoing passageways and down connecting shafts made eerie by silence and shadows.
They passed storage bays filled with towering steel racks that had clearly been newly installed while he had still been held inside the Senate Residency. He saw new computer equipment, and observed that dozens of medboxes had been slotted into some of the racks. Many more were piled on giant pallets that filled up much of the remaining space within the bay.
They moved on, soon reaching the laboratory complex, which was sealed off from the rest of the ship by its own airlock system. The labs were designed primarily for assessing planetary biospheres, and Ty was not surprised to find that they too had been overhauled and upgraded since he had last been there.
‘Why all the precautions?’ asked Leo, casting a wary eye around him. There were new cryogenic facilities that could be used for storing biological specimens, as well as for incubation and dissection. There were also airtight isolation booths for storing live samples, their interiors visible in a bank of monitors set into one bulkhead directly above the main interface.
Ty took a seat next to a console and pulled off his suit’s gloves to log on. ‘Remember the Mjollnir was primarily used as a colony ship,’ he said without looking up. ‘These labs were built so they could analyse alien flora and fauna. That means keeping them in strict isolation in case of any potential biohazards.’ He nodded over his shoulder at the main airlock. ‘You don’t want to take the chance of the rest of the ship getting contaminated, if something nasty gets loose.’
‘But a lot of this looks brand new.’
‘Just like in those bays we passed,’ Ty agreed. ‘Hang on . . .’
A screen took up most of the wall directly above the console. A grid of images now appeared on it, each showing identical views of metal-grey rooms. All but one of these was empty.
‘What are they?’
‘Those are the isolation booths for storing larger samples,’ Ty explained. ‘The body I brought back is held in one of them.’
He looked around suddenly. ‘What’s that?’
‘What?’ said Olivarri.
‘That noise.’
‘I don’t hear anything.’
‘It sounds like . . . I don’t know. Almost like singing.’
Olivarri just looked dumbfounded. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Singing wasn’t the right word for it, exactly. That would imply there was something pleasant about it, when in fact it was horribly abrasive. It was more like static, he decided, but barely at the edge of perception. After a moment it began to fade.
‘You really didn’t hear that?’ Ty said, after it had passed.
Olivarri shrugged and shook his head. ‘I really didn’t hear anything. Maybe a problem with the comms?’
‘Maybe.’ Ty tapped at the interface once more and the empty booths disappeared, all except for the one containing the Atn’s remains, which now expanded to fill the screen.
‘That’s it.’ He turned to Olivarri. ‘That’s the reason we’re here.’
Leo let out an incredulous laugh. ‘You’re fucking kidding me. That’s what we’ve been fighting for? It looks like a pile of junk.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’
A pile of junk was a fair description, Ty realized. But inside it might just be found the one thing that could bring down an entire civilization.
Corso and Lamoureaux supported the wounded Commander and helped him along the passage. As they walked, they passed archways leading aside into mess halls and recreational areas, all of them now deserted. Thick, lush vegetation grew from pots placed at every metre or so, all tended by small, delicate-looking machines that climbed in between branches or vines.
They kept their weapons at the ready, but met no further resistance. Before very long they reached the door leading into the bridge itself and found that it was, of course, sealed.
Martinez let go of them and slid down against one side of the passageway.
‘Lucas,’ he instructed, his face pale and slick with sweat, ‘radio the others now. Don’t worry about breaking silence. We just need to know if they’re in position yet.’
Corso established contact with Nancy Schiller and she delivered a brief report. He then asked her to send Ray Willis to join them.
‘They had a clear run all the way around the far side of the wheel,’ he told Martinez and Lamoureaux. ‘The bridge is sealed around the other side as well.’
‘Why do we need Willis here?’ asked a puzzled Lamoureaux.
‘In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re one man down,’ Corso explained. ‘Otherwise I’d be the only one on this side who’s both armed and uninjured. There’s three of them around the far side of the bridge, so they can easily spare Ray.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ said Martinez with effort, ‘I’m beginning to think there’s a lot fewer people on board than we thought.’
‘Maybe,’ Lamoureaux suggested, ‘they’ve got other people scattered throughout the rest of the ship. There’s plenty of room to hide.’
‘No, I think everyone left is on the other side of that door,’ Martinez grunted, pushing himself a little more upright. He looked increasingly pale and frail. ‘I’m going to try and persuade them to let us in.’
Martinez opened a command frequency to the bridge. As he spoke, his voice took on a deeper, solider timbre.
‘This is Commander Eduard Martinez hailing whoever is currently on the bridge of the Mjollnir. Please respond.’
An unfamiliar voice burst out over their shared comms. ‘I hear you, Mister Martinez. This is Luis Simenon, acting commander, addressing the boarders. You are committing an act of piracy and I demand you surrender your weapons.’
‘Luis, I need you to open up the door. You’re outnumbered, and you’re already one woman down.’
‘The last I heard, sir, you were under arrest for sedition. That means you don’t have the authority any more to—’
Simenon didn’t respond for at least another thirty seconds, and when he came back he sounded cold but subdued, even apologetic. ‘My orders come directly from the Senate security services, Commander, just as they did when I relieved you of command. There are fast-response teams on their way here, so I suggest you and your men surrender your weapons now, or suffer the consequences.’
‘He’s cut comms,’ Martinez said a moment later.
‘Is he telling the truth?’ asked Corso.
‘About the reinforcements? Sure. There’s a couple of orbital platforms that can launch police boats in a hurry, plus there are tactical teams on permanent standby on the ground.’ He nodded towards a screen flush with the door’s surface. ‘Help me over there and let’s see if I can get us through that entrance.’
Corso got an arm under Martinez’s shoulder and helped him over to the door just as Ray Willis arrived, his rifle slung over one shoulder. He was panting heavily, having just run the entire way around the centrifuge from the opposite side of the bridge.
‘I saw a body,’ Willis gasped. ‘Was there any . . . ?’ He stopped when he saw Martinez.
‘We ran into some trouble,’ said Corso.
Willis nodded, his chest still heaving. ‘Door’s locked round the other way as well,’ he said, ‘though we didn’t run into anyone. Nancy’s ready to blow it open on your signal.’
Corso nodded and checked his pulse-rifle. Its battery was at half capacity. Weapons such as these were only good for about a dozen shots before their batteries were completely drained, but they were cheap and easy to manufacture.
He nodded to Willis, who moved to one side of the bridge entrance, his back to the wall and his rifle held close to his chest.
‘Visors down, everyone,’ said Corso, taking up position opposite Willis. ‘Ted, get the Commander safe to one side as soon as he’s done.’
Martinez finished entering his code into the screen, but didn’t activate the door. Corso warned Nancy to be ready, then waited until Martinez was out of harm’s way before leaning over to touch a panel on the screen that read CONFIRM.
The door slid open a moment later, to the sound of shouting from inside.
‘Now,’ Corso barked into his comms.
Willis twisted at the waist, aimed the barrel of his rifle through the open door and fired off several shots. Almost at the same moment there was an enormous thump from somewhere inside, followed by more yelling and scuffling.
Willis ran inside, Corso following a moment later.
The first thing Corso noticed was the buckled remains of the door on the far side of the bridge. One of the Mjollnir’s crew lay facedown near the interface chair positioned at the bridge’s centre, a pulse-rifle just beyond his outstretched hand.
Willis was barking orders at a uniformed man and woman who had sheltered behind a comms console. They stood up uncertainly and dropped their weapons, clearly shaken.
The noise and confusion was tremendous, as black smoke rose up to collect under the smooth dark dome of the bridge’s ceiling.
Nancy kept her rifle levelled at an unarmed man, dressed in the clothes of an orbital dock-worker, who was hiding behind another console, while Perez had his aimed at a man in the uniform of a deck officer, his shoulder and one side blackened from a pulse-rifle shot. The officer was sitting next to a console, a pistol gripped in one hand, but pointed at the deck as if momentarily forgotten.
Simenon, Corso guessed. He looked dazed, as if he wasn’t sure where he was.
Corso trained his own weapon on Simenon’s head, while Perez inched forward, barking at him to drop his pistol and get down on the deck. Instead Simenon seemed to remember where he was and took a two-handed grip on the pistol, but without raising it.
‘Drop the fucking gun!’ Perez screamed.
Simenon breathed hard through his nostrils and shook his head emphatically, even though Corso could see he was completely terrified. ‘You won’t stand a chance when the response teams get here,’ he replied, his voice cracking.
‘It’s over, Luis,’ Perez yelled. ‘Drop the gun, and you can take these people back down. Do you understand? Drop the fucking gun now or—’
Simenon shook his head emphatically, the motion almost like a tic, and he brought his pistol up quickly to aim at Perez.
Corso fired off a single shot that hit Simenon square in the side of the head. There was a distinct crack as his brain boiled, the pressure fracturing his skull.
He tumbled to the deck, his legs folding under him as if a puppet’s strings had been cut.
Corso put his rifle down and pulled off his helmet. The air now smelled a lot worse than when wearing it.
‘You okay?’ asked Schiller, eyeing him. She’d herded the dock-worker over to join the rest.
‘You know what Simenon just did?’ Corso replied. ‘He killed himself.’
Schiller looked confused.
‘With all due respect, Senator,’ said Perez, ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’
‘He was put in charge of a major military asset, and lost it,’ Corso explained. ‘He’s probably got family, and they’d have been left with nothing if he’d just surrendered.’
Perez shrugged. ‘So?’
So it’s wrong. So it’s completely, utterly fucked up, Corso wanted to yell. But Perez was still a Freeholder born and bred, so he just shook his head and dropped the subject.
Corso went over to the three survivors, now lying face-down on the deck, guarded by Schiller and Willis. Perez activated the bridge’s comms console, and a moment later Martinez and Lamoureaux entered and surveyed the scene.
‘You,’ Corso demanded, nudging the prisoner in overalls with one booted foot. ‘What’s your name?’
The man in overalls twisted his head around slightly to face Corso.
‘Inéz Randall,’ he muttered. ‘I’m an engineer,’ he explained, ‘for the—’
‘Listen up, Inéz,’ Corso instructed him. ‘Take your two friends here, head for Launch Bay Five, take one of the shuttles there, and get off this ship as fast as you can. Don’t do anything stupid or heroic, because you’ll only wind up dead, do you understand me?’
Randall nodded.
‘All right,’ said Corso. ‘Get up, all three of you. Move.’
They stood hesitantly and Corso finally got a good look at them. These were nothing more than raw junior officers who had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had obviously been brought on to the frigate to run the final checks on the ship’s primary systems.
‘Is there anybody else on board?’ Corso asked them.
They exchanged nervous glances. ‘Just us,’ said Randall.
Corso studied the man and decided he was telling the truth. ‘Then get moving.’ He waved the barrel of his rifle towards the blown-open entrance. ‘Now.’
Once they were gone, Corso sat down heavily in a chair and pulled off his glove to run one hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He watched as Schiller and Willis carried the two corpses out of the bridge, dumping them on the deck just beyond the undamaged entrance. Lamoureaux meanwhile helped Martinez on to a low couch set against one wall, then himself stepped over to the interface chair.
‘Ted,’ he began. Lamoureaux glanced over at Corso, as the chair’s petals folded down to allow him access. ‘Keep an eye on those three, and make sure they head straight for the shuttles. Also get in touch with Leo, and check if he made it to the labs okay.’
Lamoureaux nodded, peeling his suit off and dropping it to the deck before taking his position. Corso pulled his own suit off and draped it over a console.
&nbs
p; ‘There’s an evac order going through the maintenance bays around the frigate,’ Perez reported from the comms console. ‘I heard from Leo already: everything is right where it should be, according to Driscoll.’
Corso nodded and turned to Martinez. ‘Okay, Commander,’ he said, taking the other man’s arm. ‘Med-bay for you. Nancy, will you help him there?’
Nancy Schiller nodded and helped Martinez slowly out of the bridge.
‘There are some fast boats moving into orbit,’ Lamoureaux reported. Corso glanced over and noticed how he’d left the chair’s petals unfolded, and was now staring at somewhere far away. ‘I don’t know if we can manage to break orbit before they get within range. Maybe I can ... oh shit.’
Corso stood up, alarmed. ‘What is it?’
Lamoureaux licked his lips, drumming his fingers on the armrests of the interface chair. ‘It’s Dakota . . . or her ship, at least. It just showed up out of nowhere, coming in fast. She’s . . . hang on.’
Corso waited, suddenly tense. ‘I just heard from her,’ Lamoureaux continued. ‘She’ll be on board in the next couple of minutes.’
‘That doesn’t solve the problem of those boats coming our way,’ said Perez. ‘Those things have some serious fucking firepower, Senator, and we haven’t even had a chance to break orbit.’
‘Ted—’ Corso began.
‘I already initiated a hard burn,’ Lamoureaux replied, ‘but it takes time to get a ship this size moving.’
‘Just how long?’
Lamoureaux leaned back against the headrest, his eyes squeezed shut. ‘The drive-spines are currently only at half-charge. That means it’s going to be at least a couple of hours before we’ll be able to jump out of this system. Ah shit, that’s no . . . hang on.’
He leaned forward suddenly, shook his head and blinked his eyes wide. ‘We’ve got two armed corvettes approaching on an intercept course,’ he said. ‘They must have already been in orbit.’
It hit Corso like a punch in the stomach that, without Dakota’s help, they were going to die. Lamoureaux couldn’t save them but, with the aid of her ship, Dakota could. Suddenly their hastily assembled plan to hijack the Mjollnir looked as precarious as a house of cards in an earthquake.
