by Rob Boffard
He makes himself look again. Volkova is face-down, head at an ugly angle, eclipsing a thick puddle of blood. Jack spots the handle of Seema’s penknife, and the waterspout rises up his throat again.
He strips off his jacket, lays it over the top half of Volkova’s body. The back of the jacket is pristine, and it’s big enough to cover the blood completely. There. He’s fine. No problem.
Seema comes thundering back up the stairs, vanishing into the cockpit. A second later, the lights to the main deck blink back on, flickering to life. Jack looks over his shoulder, stunned to see just how much of a mess the main deck has become. The streaks of blood don’t extend beyond the nearest seats, but there’s trash everywhere, soychip packets and empty soda cans.
“Bathroom,” Seema says, striding out from the cockpit. She takes a big, gulping breath. “Locked her in.”
“Seema,” Brendan says, not looking at her.
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start, she says. Might I remind you that the contract was nearly complete? We just needed to have a chat with our man down below, and we might still have got out of here. You’ve proper fucked us.”
Contract? Jack stares at them, stunned. Distantly, he thinks: Honeymoon. They said they were on honeymoon.
Brendan is still speaking. “It’s Centauri all over again—”
“You’re going to bring that up now?”
He rockets to his feet, looming over Seema. “You’re fucking right I am,” he roars. “That’s the whole reason we were on Sigma, ’stead of packing our shit onto a shuttle and heading to Titan like we planned. Do you understand what’ll happen to Marcus if we don’t make it back? What they’ll fucking do to him? You ever think about that?”
“Every single day.” Seema’s eyes are shining with hot, furious tears.
“Then why’d you do it?” Brendan points at the captain’s body. “You know what? No. Just go downstairs. I’ll fix it. I’ll clean up your mess, like bloody always.”
Seema looks like she wants to do to him what she did to Volkova. Instead, she turns on her heel, heading for the bar.
“It’s up to us now, boyo,” Brendan says quietly.
Jack blinks at him. “What?”
When Brendan speaks again, the fury is still there. But it’s as if he’s tamped it down, forcefully pushed it back, as if he understands that the only way he’s going to make this work is if he gets control. “I know things got a little out of hand,” he says, “but you’ve gotta believe me: this wasn’t supposed to happen. Seema … overreacted, I suppose.”
“Overreacted.” Jack finds himself nodding, as if in agreement.
“Yep. It makes things harder, I’ll grant you. A lot harder. But what’s done is done. Our mission – you and me, right now, no Seema – is to convince the chaps down there that we don’t mean them harm. The captain was an accident—”
“Accident.” It’s all he seems able to do: just repeat what’s being said to him.
“Yes.” Brendan leans forward, eyes on Jack’s, as if desperate to make him understand. “It was a bad mistake, that’s all. Heat of the moment. Now we’re all on the same side, we’re all trying to get home, and we can still do it. We just need to think logically. Make a plan.”
He raps on the trapdoor. “If we’re going to get out of here, if we’re going to have any chance at all, we need to find out what that man knows. I’ve seen his type before. He’s not going to respond to civilised bloody questioning. Believe me, I’d rather we didn’t have to cut him, but you’d be amazed at what people spill once you get started. So: we talk to our folks down below. We make them understand what’s at stake.”
“What if they don’t?”
The words come before he can stop them, and they’re followed by blackout terror. He tenses, as if Brendan is going to lunge for him, wrap metal fingers around his throat and crush his windpipe. He can’t stop seeing Seema’s hand flash upwards. She moved so fast. Not just fast: easily. Practised. Like she’d done it before.
Who the hell are these people?
Brendan doesn’t kill him. Instead, he smiles. “They will. It was dark, the captain attacked Seema first. And, if they still don’t get on board, well … let’s just say I have a little experience in persuading people what their best interests are. Then we do like we were going to. Have a little chat with our man in the handcuffs.”
He peers at Jack. “You understanding me? You get what I’m putting down?”
Jack gets another burst of that tinnitus and he pulls his gaze away, wincing, trying to ride it out. He goes back to the trapdoor – it’s all he can think to do. This time, he succeeds in getting it a full two inches up before whoever is holding it pulls it back down.
Jack yanks his fingers away, only just managing to avoid getting them crushed. He digs his fingers back into the gap. Whoever’s holding it – Everett, maybe? Hannah? – is bound to get tired sometime, and then they can –
There’s a loud clunk from the underside. This time, when Jack tries to pull, there’s zero give.
“Shit,” says Brendan, thumping his hand against the trapdoor. “All right. Just because they’ve locked it doesn’t mean there isn’t a way in. Any ideas?”
“Uh …”
Brendan’s eyes flash, and it’s enough to force the words out of Jack’s mouth. “We could … I mean, I guess there might be a way to override the lock. Or maybe there’s a way through the bar. A door we missed or something.” He knows there isn’t, but doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself talking. He keeps seeing the handle of Seema’s knife, bent at an acute angle by the floor.
Brendan nods. “Good thinking,” he says, glancing at Volkova. “Go check out the cockpit. Go through the system, see if we missed something. I’ll try talk to them from up here – see if I can get them to let us inside.”
In a daze, Jack starts to make his way across the main deck, the tinnitus rising and falling like waves crashing on a shore. It’s been less than fifteen minutes since he first got up, since he first woke up Brendan and Seema to see if they’d back him up. It feels like it happened to someone else, a lifetime ago: someone who had a plan and who knew exactly how they were going to carry it out.
None of this was supposed to happen. The captain wasn’t even supposed to be there. And even if she was, she was never supposed to … to …
He takes one last look back. Volkova is largely hidden from view, but Jack can just see one foot, sticking out from behind a seat.
Chapter 36
Hannah leans against the wall, head down, trying very hard not to throw up.
After they dosed Corey with nanomeds, and the bleeding had slowed a little, there was a moment where she thought she was OK. It lasted less than five seconds, and left her stumbling away from the others, leaving Anita and Everett with their son. She needs to think. Just for a little bit.
The water in Volkova’s coffee cup, turned black from a dozen cigarette butts. The captain chain-smoking, stubbing the dead cig out in the –
She rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands, a half groan, half sob forcing its way out of her. What happened to Volkova shouldn’t affect her this badly. In the past day, thousands – no, tens of thousands – have died. Frontier and Colony, and most of them went without having the faintest idea why. Why should Jana Volkova be any different?
Because she was the first one to die on board this ship. Because she got killed trying to protect someone. Because she was the only person here you could talk to and the only way we were ever going to get out of here, and now –
Hannah grinds the heels of her hands into her eyes so hard that the darkness behind the lids is filled with a thousand prickling lights.
“First things first,” she mutters. Only: what are those first things? What are they supposed to be doing? Finding a way out of here, maybe, but then they’ll still have to deal with Brendan and Seema, and Jack. And if they stay down here?
“You all right?”
Everett. He’s sta
nding over her, arms at his sides. Before she can respond, he says, “We need something stronger than those nanomeds.”
“I know, but—”
“They’ll help with the pain.” He looks sick. “Keep him stable. But even if we keep him on them, they’re not going to be able to fix his leg.”
“Ev, I’m sorry.” Hannah gestures around the engine compartment. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Figure something out.”
He all but snarls the words, the blister pack vanishing into a clenched fist.
“What do you want me to do?” she says, feeling more helpless than ever. “That pack’s all we have left.”
He slumps. “Sorry.”
“S’OK.”
“You ever had a dislocated shoulder?” he asks. “Anything like that?”
She shakes her head.
“I did, once. Playing football in college. Running back. Coach snapped it in there—” he mimics twisting something into place, hand above his shoulder “—and I felt like I was going to black out. Had to stay on nanos for a couple of days. Missed a dose once, and it was like the pain was right there all along, just hidden. It came back fast. Can you even imagine how many nanos he’s going to need after we push that bone in?”
It feels like Hannah has to almost physically push the frustration back. “I get it, Ev. But I don’t know what to tell you.”
Ev runs a hand through his hair. As he does so, another voice drifts down from the hatch, muffled and dull.
Brendan.
“Hello down there?” He knocks on the trapdoor three times, like he’s standing on a doorstep. “Look, we need to talk. Any chance you can lift the hatch up?”
Silence. Anita meets Hannah’s eyes, raw terror on her face.
“I’m sorry about before,” Brendan continues. He sounds completely calm. “It shouldn’t have happened. But we’re all on the same side here, and I think if we just took a moment to chat we’d be able to come to some sort of arrangement. All right?”
Everett looks like he’s about to reply. Hannah scrambles to her feet, gripping his shoulder, making him look at her as she shakes her head no. They’re not saying a word until they’ve decided what their position is. But what is their position, exactly? What the hell are they supposed to do?
“We don’t mean you any harm, up here,” Brendan is saying. “You don’t even have to come up yet. Just crack the trapdoor, and let’s talk.”
From behind them, the prisoner speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You could let me go.”
“What?” Hannah says, the word scarcely a breath.
“You want to take these guys out?” The man shifts, his spacesuit fabric rasping. “Uncuff me. Let me get my suit off. They won’t stand a chance.”
Hannah makes herself grit her teeth. “Neither will we.”
He chuckles, long and low. “Seems like you’ve got a little problem, then. I’m going to have a nap. You wake me when you figure it out.”
Brendan is still talking, still trying to reassure them. His voice reminds Hannah of her sister, when Callie is trying to close a business dealing over the phone. Warm. Encouraging. She can all but see the cheerful smile on his face. Suddenly she wants to throw up again.
“Let’s go in the other room,” she says, flicking a nervous glance at the prisoner.
Both Everett and Anita nod. “Malik, go back with your brother,” Anita says.
“What?”
“Go look after Corey. And don’t say anything to Brendan.”
“I wanna stay with you.” Malik has a wounded look on his face, and Hannah can’t blame him. Hasn’t he been through just as much as they have? “Besides, it’s not like I’m not going to be able to hear—”
“Well, you’re not staying with us,” Everett says, annoyed. “Do what your mother says now.”
“But Dad—”
“It’s OK, Mal,” Corey says. They all turn to look at him, propped against the wall on the other side of the room. His face is still grey, but he’s alert, even managing a thin smile. The nanomeds are working; his leg is in bad shape, but it looks as if the pain has been dialled down. For now.
Hannah can’t help but picture the blister pack, scrunched in Everett’s hand. Two left.
Malik says nothing, looking between his parents and his brother. “Come on,” Corey says. “You can … tell me about your movies or … something.”
With undisguised reluctance, Malik makes his way over to his brother. He keeps glancing behind him, his eyes finding Hannah’s, as if pleading her to reconsider. But in a few moments, he’s sitting next to Corey, eyes downcast.
They troop into the other room. The air is still a little smoky from the fire, and it makes Hannah’s eyes sting. She can feel the hum of the engines in the pit of her stomach. Are they even moving right now? She can’t remember. And who’s in the cockpit, if not Volkova? Jack? Seema?
She’s tempted to get them checking every inch of astronautics. Maybe they missed something … but, of course, she knows that isn’t true. The entirety of the ship’s supplies are on the main deck, or in the bar.
“So now what?” Everett says. He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded.
Hannah lets out a long breath. “We’re not going to be able to stay down here for long. Not without food or water.” She sees Everett about to speak, hurries on. “And meds. I know.”
“You’re a hundred per cent sure there’s nothing down here?” Everett says.
“Just electronics.”
“Well then, we have to get out,” Everett says. His eyes flick between them. “Right?”
“And we would,” says Anita. “But guess who’ll be waiting for us?”
“So? What are they going to do?”
“That’s the problem,” Hannah says, almost mumbling the words. “I don’t even think they know.”
Anita stares at her. “Are you saying they … the captain was an accident?”
“Maybe give her a chance to speak, OK?”
“And what? The longer we stand here, the longer those psychos are in control.”
“We can’t just—”
“Did you see,” Anita says, forcing the words through clenched teeth, speaking in short, bitter chunks, “what they did to Corey?”
“Both of you, enough. Just …” Hannah runs her fingers through her hair, not sure what she wants to say, just knowing that she can’t take any more of their fighting. God, she’d give anything to talk to someone sane right now. Lorinda would be –
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, shit,” she says.
Everett looks at her. “What?”
“Lorinda. She’s still up there. With the others.”
Anita lets out a low moan, and all three of them glance up at the ceiling. For a moment, Hannah can’t believe the guilt she feels – the kind of guilt that skewers you on a long pole and then holds you up to take a good, hard look at. How long has it been? And none of them even noticed she wasn’t with them?
“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Everett says, not sounding the least bit sure. “She’s a tough one.”
“But what if—” Anita says.
“No. Nothing we can do for her right now. We gotta focus on what’s in front of us.” He brightens. “Hey – what about the vents?”
“There’s nothing in there.” Hannah’s voice is dull.
“That’s not what I mean. Who’s to say we can’t just go in there ourselves? It’s gotta come out somewhere else in the ship, right?”
“Won’t work.”
“Why not?”
Anita lets out a disgusted sigh. “Because Corey only just fit in there. None of us will. And if you think I’m sending my son in there with his leg the way it is …”
“My son, too. And I would never—”
Hannah jumps in. “What about a … a supervised interrogation?”
“Didn’t we do that already?” Everett says. “The supervision ain’t the problem. They want to hurt this guy.”
> “I want to hurt this guy,” Anita mutters.
They fall silent, the noise of the engine flowing in to fill the space.
“What if we do it?” Anita says.
Hannah rubs a piece of smoky grit out of her eye. “Do what?”
“Like he said. Let him go, have him take care of … you know.”
Everett stares at her in amazement. Hannah drops her hand, the grit forgotten. “There’s no way.”
“But what if we—”
“’Nita, that’s insane.”
“Just listen.” Anita squares her shoulders, addressing Hannah instead of her husband. “I’m not saying it’s the best option, but it’s not worth discarding out of hand.”
“Did you not hear what he said?”
Anita ignores her. “We make a deal,” she says, tapping her palm with the backs of her fingers. “Negotiate terms. Get him on our side, so—”
“’Nita—”
“Not up for discussion.” Hannah turns away. “Sorry. Think of something else.”
“Oh, don’t be so goddamn naive,” Anita says, baring her teeth.
“Excuse me?”
“Everybody has something they want. We just have to find his. It’s what we’d do in the Senate when we needed to whip votes, we’d—”
“Unbelievable.” Hannah gapes at her. “You’re playing politics. Now.”
“I don’t hear any better ideas.”
“Cool it, both of you,” Everett tells them.
Hannah ignores him. “This isn’t the Senate. This isn’t a fucking bill. We’re not whipping votes, and you know exactly what the guy in there wants.”
“If you’d just let me try.”
“No. Uh-uh. Politics is why we’re here in the first place.”
“We couldn’t have foreseen—”
“And you still think you can negotiate. Like it’s the treaty all over again. Like there’s a … a … a compromise we can reach.” Dimly, Hannah is aware that she’s crying, hot tears cutting through the dirt on her cheeks.
Anita doesn’t blink. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re, what, twenty? Twenty-one? I’m guessing before today all you’d done was work as a tour guide. You are not equipped to make decisions like this.”