"Acknowledged. There will be no further communications until our return. Over and out."
Kirrik turned the comms off and flicked the controls to automatic. He had to twist around uncomfortably in the confined space to grasp the ladder to climb out of the cockpit. Pulling himself up and out he went aft to check on the accommodation.
The Viper was designed to carry ten passengers, but this meant more that the life support was capable of handling them rather than there was enough space. GalCop didn't really mind cramming their prisoners into close proximity. Narrow bunks allowed six of them to sleep at any time, the rest had a small patch of floor to sit on. There was a separate room for the pilot, but this was not much better. An uncomfortable, narrow bed and very basic washing facilities, but at least it was private. Designed as a short-range "hunter-killer" it was rarely necessary to spend more than two or three days in it.
Kirrik was not surprised to see that Marchero was not in the communal section, and resigned himself to her complaints when he tried to kick her out of the private cabin. She had locked the door, but the ship's computers had been programmed to give him complete access and the lock was easily overridden.
Marchero was sat on the bed rummaging through a bag she had brought on board. She looked up when Kirrik entered, clearly unsurprised to see him.
"Right, now you're going to try to order me out of here, eh?" she said sarcastically.
"Yes."
"Well, I think I'll stay. I've had enough of being bossed around by you lot."
"Hah," Kirrik snorted. "What did you expect with your attitude?"
"You haven't exactly shown much gratitude for my assistance, have you?" She turned her back on him and went back to searching the bag.
Kirrik started to gesture behind her back, but thought better of it. He walked round the bed until he was in front of her and hauled her to her feet. "The way you act I wouldn't be grateful for anything you did," he snarled into her face.
"Let go," she shouted at him. She tried to push his arms away but he was much stronger than her.
"When you've listened to me, and hopefully for once you'll pay attention." Marchero stopped struggling and stared at him with a look bordering on hatred.
"This is going to be a long trip. It's eight days there and eight back. There isn't much room in this ship to avoid each other. It's almost certainly going to be a dangerous trip, too. If we make it there alive it's going to get worse. Being bloody-minded and confrontational will get us killed. Have the cabin, but in return remember that I'm in charge. If you haven't anything worth saying, shut up." He shoved her back down on the bed, and started to walk out of the room.
At the door her turned back, and grabbed Marchero's bag.
"Give it back!" she yelled at him. "What's in there is none of your business!"
"That's what I want to be certain about."
Marchero jumped up to snatch back her back, but Kirrik leapt through the door and had hit the close panel before she could reach him. He locked the door under his codes, and ignoring the hammering on the door and the yelling coming from behind it he emptied the bag's contents onto one of the bunks in the communal area.
The contents consisted of a change of clothes, some washing gear and two information pads. Kirrik eyed them suspiciously but upon examining their contents saw that they contained nothing but a couple of novels, and a surprisingly good taste in literature considering his general opinion of Marchero. As a precaution he hooked the pads up to the Viper's computer to search them more thoroughly for hidden files, but they were clean. He flung everything back in the bag.
Quickly opening the door, he threw the bag through. "Here," he called into the cabin, and closed the door before Marchero had time to react.
For the next few days they did their best to avoid each other completely. Kirrik spent most of his waking time on the bridge, Marchero in the cabin. They had spoken only briefly, whilst Marchero told Kirrik the frequency prediction formula for the nav beacon. The tense atmosphere was still there, though, and now the engines had shut down and the ship was coasting the silence exaggerated it.
It was, however, the boredom of the situation that eventually made them speak again. Unlike Marchero Kirrik had not had the foresight to bring with him anything with which to pass the time. Not surprisingly for a commandeered police vessel the Viper's computers contained very little in the way of entertainment. A little music he didn't like, a film he had already seen and some old police reports to read.
Tensing himself for another confrontation he knocked on the door. There was quite a delay before it was opened. Marchero stood looking at him suspiciously.
Kirrik didn't say anything for a few seconds, but eventually blurted out "Look, can I borrow a book?"
Marchero's expression was one of incredulity for a moment, but then she laughed. "Yeah, OK. If you must." She bent and picked one of the information pads off the floor where they had been lying untidily. "You owe me a favour now," she told him, tossing the pad to Kirrik.
"I doubt that. Thanks any-" he began, but suddenly an alarm erupted through the ship. "Stay here!" he shouted at her as he ducked through the doorway and almost jumped down into the bridge.
The monitor was blank except for stars. The scanner showed nothing. But by his right hand another display was flashing a warning message.
"What's up?" called Marchero from above his head.
"The stealth device is playing up. I've no idea if we're visible to anything."
"How far away are we?" she called back down to him.
"About seven and a half AUs. Nearly time to start slowing down, but if we turn on the engines now I'm fairly sure we'll be detected."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Don't know yet, the diagnostics haven't come through."
There was a nervous minute as the computer attempted to ascertain the damage. Eventually a message scrolled up below the warning.
Stealth shield interface burnout. Scanner interface offline it informed. Kirrik told Marchero the news.
"Any more details?" she asked.
"No, the computer interface to it is down. If we're lucky that's all it will be." He hauled himself up out of the bridge.
A panel in the back wall of the communal area opened into a crawlway heading into the ship's heart. Kirrik disappeared into it.
He emerged with a very worried expression on his face.
"Bad?" Marchero asked him.
"The shield interface has completely had it."
"So we're visible?"
"At seven and half AUs? Not unless they've very long range active scanners. They'll see us when we turn the engines on, though." He lay down on the bunk he had been using, seeming thoroughly despondent.
"You're giving up?" Marchero exclaimed.
"No," he sat up and replied. "I'm trying to think." He lay back down whilst Marchero paced the room nervously.
"Right," he announced all of a sudden. Marchero jumped. "The scanner interface looks fine. I think it was just confused by the demise of the shield one, but I can reset it. The interface isn't down, after all. It's just the wires that had burned through."
"And your plan?"
"Hook the scanner interface to the shields as well. We'll just have to hope it can take the strain. The software has backups in the main computer, so it shouldn't be a problem to re-program it. We'll have to loose active scanning, though. It won't be up to modulating that on top of everything else."
"Any other bad news?" Marchero said. There was a hint of nervousness in her voice.
"Yes. It probably won't work as efficiently. I'll start braking as soon as I've hooked up the interface, but even at a slower braking rate we may still be seen. We've no way of testing it now."