“What do you want?” Kalkuz’s voice trembled. He got to his feet with obvious reluctance.
“You’ll find out.”
Mitchell stepped forward and pulled out his stunner. He pointed it at Kalkuz and stunshot him in the chest. Kalkuz dropped to the deck in a twitching, moaning heap. Michael stunshot him again. He stopped moving.
“Let’s go,” Michael said. He waved Mitchell and Akuna to pick the man up.
Dragging Kalkuz between them, the marines followed Michael. He threaded his way along corridors and down ladders until the group reached one of the midships airlocks. Shinoda was waiting for them; she opened the inner door. “Dump him in there,” she said. She looked at Michael. “Let me do this, sir.”
Michael turned away and opened an emergency locker to pull out a skinsuit. “We’ve had that discussion,” he replied. “It’s my screwup, so I’ll fix it.”
Shinoda put her mouth to Michael’s ear. “Fuck that,” she whispered. “I won’t let you do this on your own.” She leaned past him to pull out a second skinsuit. “And don’t argue with me … sir.”
Michael was too demoralized to try. “Okay, okay,” he muttered. A minute later, he was suited up. “All set?”
Shinoda nodded. “All set,” she said.
Michael commed Horda as the two of them stepped into the airlock. The door shut behind them with a soft hiss. “We’re ready.”
“Roger … External door interlocks released.”
Sick to his soul, Michael started the scavenge pump. In seconds the air in the lock had turned to white mist as the pressure dropped. To Michael’s horror, Kalkuz’s eyes opened; they were wild with fear and stared up at him until anoxia closed them forever. He knew those eyes would come back to haunt him. A lifetime later, the red light over the external door turned to green. Michael froze. He could not finish what his stupidity had started.
“Let me, sir,” Shinoda muttered. She pushed Michael aside and punched the controls to open the outer airlock.
Shamed into action, Michael reached down to take hold of Kalkuz. Together he and Shinoda dragged the man’s awkward mass to the door.
“On three,” Shinoda said. “Stand by … one, two, three!”
Kalkuz’s body vanished into the gray mist of pinchspace. Michael threw up.
Saturday, June 26, 2404, UD
New Varanasi nearspace
“All set?” Michael asked.
“All set,” Captain Horda replied.
“Let’s do it.”
Horda nodded. Fingers flew, and he initiated the drop. Michael’s world turned itself inside out. A moment later, the navigation plot stabilized.
“Aha,” Captain Horda said. He pointed at the string of digits displaying the ship’s position. “Read that, spacer boy, and weep. We’ve jumped a quadrillion kilometers, give or take a few, and we’re less than a hundred klicks from the datum.”
“Now that is very impressive,” Michael said. And he meant it. For a beat-up old mership, it was extraordinary.
Horda shrugged. “Thank a great AI. And it helps that we’ve done the Scobie’s-to-Varanasi route more times than I can remember. I swear we know every last ripple and bump in pinchspace. Anyway, that’s enough self-congratulation. Let’s get the sob story on its way, and then we can piss off.”
“Do it,” Michael said.
“Varanasi Nearspace Control,” Horda said. “This is Scobie’s World mership Matrix Starlight.”
“Matrix Starlight, Varanasi,” the voice of the duty controller said. “Go channel 42. Out.”
“And good morning to you too,” Horda muttered as he changed channels. “Varanasi, Matrix Starlight on four-two.”
“Matrix Starlight, we do not hold a valid flight plan for your arrival, and you have dropped outside the designated drop zone.”
“Sorry about that, Varanasi. We have major problems with one of our pinchspace nodes.”
“Tell that to the inspectors, Starlight. You are in breach of Varanasi nearspace navigation regulations. Reverse vector to-”
“Negative, Varanasi.”
“What do you mean ‘negative’, Starlight?” The controller sounded angry.
Michael smiled. The woman should sound angry. Ships did not make a habit of refusing to do as they were told. Her instructions had the force of law, and captains who ignored them always paid heavily.
“Regret we are unable to comply with your instructions, Varanasi,” Horda said. “Have malfunction on main engines, so cannot maneuver. Am transmitting revised flight plan to you for our transit to Commitment.”
“Be advised, Starlight. Commitment nearspace is closed.”
“I can’t help that. It’s the only place we can get to. If we try for anywhere else, we’re screwed.”
“We’ll pass on the flight plan, Starlight, but I repeat: Commitment nearspace is closed, and any unauthorized incursion risks the use of deadly force.”
“Not much choice, Varanasi. Adjusting vector for Commitment now. Wish us luck.”
“You’ll need it, Starlight. And I’m still citing you for breaches of Varanasi navigation regulations. Varanasi Nearspace Control, out.”
“Arrogant pricks,” Horda muttered. “Right, then,” he went on. “We’ll jump as soon as we’re on vector for Commitment. We’ll be there in nineteen hours. Make the most of them. We need to get this right.”
“I know,” Michael replied, grim-faced. He did not need any reminders. “I’ll be down in the cargo bay if you want me.”
“Good luck, Michael,” Horda said. “Even after what you’ve done to me, it’s been good knowing you. I hope we can meet again someday.”
“You and me both,” Michael replied with some feeling. “You’ve got the holovid recordings? Believe me, if those Hammer sons of bitches even think something’s not right, they’ll make you pay.”
“Don’t worry,” Horda said. He patted a pocket in his shipsuit. “They’re safe and sound.”
“I’m sorry about Kalkuz.”
“Hah!” Horda snorted. “Don’t be. That bastard would have screwed us; no doubt about it.”
“I think he would have, but I’m still sorry the way it turned out.”
“He had other choices. Anyway, you should go. If I’m to drop you where I’m supposed to, then I need to pay attention.”
“See you.”
Michael made his way to his lifepod. He put his head through the hatch. “Room for one more?” he asked.
“Not really,” Akuna said.
“I’m coming in anyway,” Michael said. He found his seat and strapped in alongside Spassky, Akuna, and Mitchell. This is absolute fucking madness, he thought, looking at the bulky drop shells to which they were about to entrust their lives.
He put his head back to sit out the last few minutes before they dropped. He wanted to go now. He’d had enough of the waiting, of the uncertainty, of not knowing whether Anna was still alive. He glanced at the three marines, who were anonymous behind the closed faceplates of their skinsuits, and prayed that they would all make it through.
Then it was time.
“Stand by,” Horda said. “In three … dropping, now!”
In a blaze of ultraviolet radiation, the universe turned itself inside out, and Starlight emerged into normalspace. The Hammer response was immediate, a barrage of invective with a simple message: Jump back into pinchspace now or your ship will be blown to plasma. Michael ignored it. He was far more interested to know whether Horda had been able to do what he had promised.
Relief flooded Michael’s body. Horda had done it. They were close to the drop datum.
“Downloading updated position and vector data,” Horda said. “Stand by to launch pods … launching.”
At that point a great deal happened in a very short span of time.
With a series of whumps, explosive charges blasted four of Starlight’s lifepods clear of the ship, pushing them out at right angles to the ship’s track and away from the planet below, radiating preprogrammed bleats for help across all the international distress frequencies, their presence advertised by blazing double-pulsed orange strobes. There was a heart-stopping pause while Starlight’s ponderous bulk rolled into position, then more whumps to punch the two lifepods holding Michael and his marines into the ship’s wake, back the way she had come.