Empire of Light (19 page)

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.

‘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.

Then he realized something was wrong with Lamoureaux. He sat bent forward in the interface chair, clutching at one side of his head with a pained expression.

Corso stepped forward quickly, catching him before he could fall out of his seat. The navigator’s skin had turned pale and waxy.

‘What the hell is going on?’ said Perez.

‘I don’t know,’ Corso snapped, pulling himself up on to the dais to help Lamoureaux back properly into the seat. ‘Ted, what is it?’

When he replied, Lamoureaux sounded groggy, unfocused. ‘I don’t know. It was like there was this enormous pressure inside my head and . . . oh, damn.’

The bends,
thought Corso; his Magi-boosted implants were finally burning out his cortex.

Corso moved out of the way as Lamoureaux leaned forward, and to one side, and vomited noisily on to the deck. Corso held him by the shoulder and ignored the shocked expression on Perez’s face.

‘Where’s Olivarri?’ Corso demanded.

Perez stepped over to another console, and Corso watched Perez’s face change from orange to blue as the console’s display flickered with bright colours. ‘He’s on his way here,’ Perez replied after a moment. ‘I’m reading him as just entering the wheel.’ He reached out and tapped at the screen again. ‘I can activate the external feeds from here.’

A moment later the dark bowl of the bridge’s ceiling filled with stars and with the broad curve of the planet below, along with a simulation of the
Mjollnir
as it would appear at a distance of a few kilometres. Smoke from the explosion had already been sucked away by the ventilation system.

Corso could see the fine network of work-bays and pressurized cabins surrounding the frigate, and several tiny craft moving steadily away from it. One was a shuttle carrying Simenon’s skeleton crew, while the rest undoubtedly contained the engineers and repair specialists who had been working on the hull until the order to evacuate.

According to a string of data floating next to the frigate it was indeed under way, but its speed was still relatively incremental despite the enormous amount of energy flowing out of the fusion drives.

‘Any sign of Dakota’s ship?’ asked Corso, still holding Lamoureaux upright. He appeared to be barely conscious.

‘I think she’s on the frigate’s far side,’ Perez replied. ‘One moment.’

The starscape overhead wheeled suddenly, spinning around by a hundred and eighty degrees. Now Corso could see a Magi ship rapidly approaching. It looked, as ever, like some creature born to live between the stars, its forward-reaching drive-spines like the grasping tentacles of a monstrous sea-creature.

Lamoureaux’s head flopped against Corso’s arm, and he grasped the machine-head under one shoulder and guided him down from the interface chair. Perez helped drag him over to one of the couches lining the walls of the bridge.

Leo Olivarri suddenly appeared, looking breathless. He glanced from Lamoureaux to Corso with a questioning expression.

‘Leo,’ said Corso. ‘I need you to get Mr Lamoureaux here to the med-bay.’

Olivarri nodded and came over, clearly recognizing this was no time for questions. Lamoureaux’s skin was clammy but together they managed to get him back on to his feet. He gradually seemed to become a little more aware of his surroundings, and then Olivarri helped him out of the bridge.

Perez looked worried. ‘Senator, without someone manning the interface chair, we’re going to be at a very serious disadvantage.’

Corso sucked in a breath and turned back to study the overhead projection. By now the
Mjollnir
had mostly passed out of the orbital dock, while the Magi ship had drawn abreast of it. The two hostile corvettes, identified by icons floating beside them, were still a few thousand kilometres distant.

Another string of data appeared directly between the Magi ship and the frigate, marking a single blip moving quickly across the gap between the two craft.

That’s her,
Corso thought. But why was she leaving her ship? Surely she was intending to accompany the
Mjollnir
from inside her own vessel?

‘Senator.’ Corso turned to Perez. ‘We have pulse-weapons mounted on the hull, but we’ve had to divert most of their power to the fusion drives. Unless you can come up with something very soon, we’re going to be sitting ducks for those corvettes.’

Corso nodded, and stepped forward until he stood directly underneath the projection of the
Mjollnir.
It looked real enough to make him feel he could reach up and touch it. He watched as the blip representing Dakota reached one of the frigate’s external airlocks, and disappeared from sight.

‘Dan, patch me into the frigate’s general address system. Dakota just came on board, and I want to be sure she hears me.’

‘Patching you in now,’ Perez replied, his hands sliding rapidly across the surface of his console. ‘One moment and I’ll have a visual on her.’

The
Mjollnir
and the surrounding starscape began to shrink overhead, as if receding at enormous speed. In its place appeared a larger-than-life image of Dakota, now inside an airlock already halfway through its opening cycle.

She was naked, but her skin was coated in what looked like thick black oil, her eyes gleaming and alien-looking. She had a bag slung across one shoulder, out of which she pulled a jumpsuit.

Corso glanced over at Perez and saw a censorious look on his face. It was hard to remember that he too had been that buttoned-down before he first left Redstone.

Overhead, Dakota pulled on the jumpsuit, the black slick coating on her skin draining away. She glanced briefly towards the microscopic lens buried in one wall of the airlock with a sardonic smile, and Corso felt his face redden.