There was no way to override the cycle once it had started, so all she could do was wait until he had exited on to the hull, and the external hatch had swung closed again.
As soon as the safety light blinked on, and the airlock disengaged its safety locks, Dakota yanked the door open and climbed inside, initiating another cycle. By the time the outer hatch slid open once more, her filmsuit had spread out fully beneath her clothes.
She pulled herself out on to the hull but couldn't see Whitecloud. For one freezing moment she thought she had lost him, but then spotted him making his way rapidly through the forest of drive-spines, heading for the stern, his bag bouncing around as he moved.
Ty? Trader? Can you hear me? I'm right behind you.
Whitecloud stopped just long enough to glance back at her. He turned away again, and began to move more quickly.
She pushed herself along parallel to the hull. It was a risky manoeuvre to move this fast without the benefit of a lanyard to keep her attached to the hull itself. One misjudgement could send her spinning away into the darkness of space.
Trader, I know you're behind this.
To her surprise, he answered her.
‹Greetings, Dakota. I hope you are well.›
The words sounded wrong, issuing from Whitecloud's throat. She found herself unexpectedly recalling the ghost stories of her youth, those tales of spirits and possessions. Hearing Trader speak through a human being was more than a little disquieting.
I know everything, Trader, You killed Olivarri and Willis and now you're using Whitecloud to bring the Mos Hadroch to you. But you can't get to the cache without firepower to back you up, so why are you doing this?
‹You betrayed me, Dakota. Is that reason enough?›
What?
‹You lied when you told me Moss was dead. I have received reports that he is very much alive. What did he give you, I wonder, to persuade you not to put an end to him?›
Whitecloud disappeared momentarily behind the wide blade of a heat-exchange nacelle. Dakota kept pulling herself along one of the main plasma conduits, slowly gaining on him. But another fifty metres and the conduits would terminate; after that, she would be passing over the exterior of the main hold.
Fine, I admit it. I didn't kill him. Stop now, Trader, or I'll take over your yacht.
‹You don't have the means.›
You asked me what Moss gave me. He gave me the command structure for your ship. Stop now, or I'll never let you get inside it.
‹Make any such attempt, and Whitecloud will throw the artefact away from the ship. Your chances of recovering it will then be very low indeed, given that a large number of Emissary scouts are now approaching.›
She came to a halt at the nacelle, and worked her way carefully around it. Once she was on the other side, she saw Whitecloud making his way toward an airlock leading directly into a series of access tunnels that surrounded the main hold.
She saw him falter for a moment, standing there unmoving with one hand resting on the external hatch's manual release. She wondered if Trader's control over him was finally slipping.
She pushed towards him with renewed energy.
Ted, Whitecloud's entering the hold through a service lock.
‹Roger that. It looks like some of those Emissary scouts just jumped into our very near vicinity to check us out. You need to get back inside, Dakota. Now.›
I hear you.
She kept pushing herself towards Whitecloud. He seemed to have recovered now, quickly releasing the manual switch. She saw red light illuminating the front of his suit as the airlock hatch slowly slid to one side.
Trader! This is crazy. The Emissaries will blow you out of the sky if you try to go to the cache on your own.
‹How is it, Dakota, that the approaching scouts knew to track us here to these coordinates, out of all the vastness of the Perseus Arm?›
Before Dakota could answer, Whitecloud disappeared through the open hatch.
The hull sailed past, only millimetres beneath her. Light had already begun to sparkle along the top of the nearest drive-spines, and she realized the Mjollnir was only seconds from jumping. If she didn't get back inside the ship soon, she risked being vaporized by the energy flow.
Something sailed past the frigate, moving so fast it was gone by the time she discerned its passage. She reached out for a rung next to the hatch…
The field-generators came to life, even as the first pulse-beams lanced towards the Mjollnir.
The world went white for several seconds, but she still had hold of the rung. The light faded quickly, and she activated the lock system, watching the door slide into its recess.
More dark shapes shot past, so quickly they barely registered. She pulled herself inside.
Trader? I don't know how they could have found us. Why don't you tell me?
The hatch slid back into place above her, lightning playing across the hull outside.
‹You, of all people, know the inconceivable chances against simply stumbling across this frigate in all the depths of interstellar space. The only reasonable conclusion, therefore, is that they have the means to track us.›
The airlock finished its cycle, and Dakota passed on into a network of cramped service tunnels. She briefly dipped into the data-space until she had an idea which way to go.
Following the passageway to a heavy door, she passed through it and into a large control module overlooking the interior of the hold, designed for use by traffic controllers overseeing the movement of ships and cargo. As she entered it, she saw that the module was several metres across, with a wide window at the far end which revealed the looming shape of Trader's yacht, now free from its cradle and floating just beyond the glass. It was close enough, in fact, that its drive-spines risked shattering it.
Ty crouched beneath the window, next to a console, still gripping the bag containing the Mos Hadroch tight against his chest. He'd already taken his helmet off.
'You shouldn't have followed me,' Ty rasped in what sounded more like his own voice.
As she stepped closer, he pulled a knife out of the bag, its blade still stained with Willis's blood.
'You can't hurt me with that,' she said. 'Believe me.'
She started to move closer to him – and the yacht moved towards the window with startling suddenness. A drive-spine pierced the glass, sending dozens of fragments spinning through the air. Dakota grabbed hold of a metal shelf bolted to the wall, before the venting atmosphere could suck her out of the module and into the hold.
But the explosive decompression ripped her hands away from the shelf, and she collided with the bulkhead nearest the window. She then managed to grab hold of the console for just long enough to let the force of decompression finally relent after a few moments.
The next time she looked, Whitecloud was gone. The strap of his bag, however, had become caught on a piece of twisted metal to one side of the window-frame.
Dakota pushed herself towards it, hands outstretched.
She was not aware of any kind of explosion, or of being hit by any form of missile. Only later did she recall having a momentary glimpse of a ball of white light expanding through the shattered window towards her. She was initially only aware of now being on the opposite side of the room. The metal shelves were twisted out of shape where her body had rammed into them with sickening force.
The filmsuit had protected her, but the impact had nearly drained it of power. She might have as little as a few minutes left before it would begin to fail.
Trader swam in through the ruined window, moving towards the bag until the sphere of water enveloping him had surrounded it. The tentacles dangling from his underbelly untangled the strap from the obstruction and drew it close to his body.