Into the Light by Jane Wallace

The whine of laser fire outside intruded on his thoughts. It was scattershot from one or two weapons rather than a fusillade. There was shouting too. Sevin crept to the jamb of the external door, waving at the others to keep out of sight. Spying past the busted frame, he saw a gang of about ten sturmgangers besieging the hopper. Two Gharst stood at its bow, flooding pulse at the moving body inside and shattering the forward windows in the process. Others were attempting to force the cabin and stern hatches. Inside the cockpit was dark but he could make out Hauki, rackarmen in one hand, digi in the other. His own communicator was bleeping so he assumed she was trying to contact him. As an answer, he took aim and picked off the two Gharst at the bow who tumbled to the ground, their blasters clattering down beside them.

Seeing their comrades fall, the sturmgangers took cover behind the hopper and returned fire at Sevin’s doorway, covering for the one Gharst who continued to cut away at the cabin hatch. An easy target, Sevin lined him up and pulled the trigger. The rifle made a sharp click instead of a purr. It was empty. Sevin swore and ripped the gas canister off his belt, stabbing its nozzle into the rifle’s reservoir and counting the ten seconds for the reload to complete.

As he waited, there was a cry of triumph as the sturmganger breached the hatch. Sevin watched in dismay as he hauled himself into the main body of the craft, knowing that by now Hauki would have little power left in the rackarmen. She would have to relinquish the hopper, unless she had some final trick up her sleeve. She did not. The next thing Sevin saw was the forcible ejection of a body from the stern hatch. It dumped onto the ground and rolled a few times before it came to rest in a disordered heap. The hopper’s engines gunned, preparing for take off.

Fury propelled Sevin out of the building and towards the hopper in full battle-cry, firing the half-loaded rifle at will. The hopper levitated a couple of metres above the ground as the last sturmganger, hanging half-way out of the cabin door, struggled to get in. Sevin riddled the swinging torso with pulse and was gratified to see the body stiffen and plunge as the hopper strained upwards and away.

Sevin sent a few bolts after it but in vain, the craft was pulling out of range. By that stage Bravo group had run out from the admin block to stand beside him, collecting a few of the fallen blasters on the way.

Sevin put down his weapon, his lips white with rage. ‘Bloody bastards,’ he spat out, eyeing the escaping ship. With the punctured windows they wouldn’t get much higher than the tree-tops, but they would get away, whereas Sevin and his team were stranded. He looked over the battleground and the inanimate lumps spread around it. Fifteen metres away there was one in the khaki flight fatigues of Coalition Ground Force.

Hauki was lying on her side when Sevin reached her, her arms caged around her head as if she had tried to brace herself for the fall. There was a deep score on the right arm that was coursing blood. ‘Hauki, Hauki!’ he called, patting her face to get her to come round. His fingers found the pulse in her neck: she was alive at least. After a few more shakes, she blinked a few times and turned her head slowly to him.

‘Hauki! Are you alright?’ He helped her to sit up.

‘I think so. My arm…’

Sevin cast around for a bandage. ‘Lauden, any first aid? Anden, Patria?’

They shook their heads.

Sevin considered his own trouser leg to be clean enough. With a pocket knife, he tore off a section and bound it around Hauki’s arm.

‘We need to go, can you stand?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Come on then.’ Sevin got his hands under her arms and heaved upwards. ‘Did anyone see a big ship take off yet?’ he asked when they were all standing. ‘No? Then that ship we passed earlier is still at the launch site. Let’s go get it.’

He indicated the route they would take through the gap between the admin block and the red workshop to its left. The others started to move off but Lauden stayed put, staring at the sky over the rooftops. ‘Unidentified craft incoming on western approach,’ he called.

Sevin looked up. A light spacecraft seemed to be headed straight for them, running dark, obviously in stealth mode.

‘Run for it!’ he shouted.

They broke into a sprint towards the gap, Lauden with Patria and Anden in the lead, Hauki lagging behind and Sevin urging her on. He turned to check the progress of their aerial pursuer. The triangular shape was circling a hundred metres above them as if unsure whether or not to land. There was black lettering on its white undersides.

‘That’s runes on the belly,’ Lauden shouted over his shoulder. The craft took a sudden swoop and started a dive directly at them.

‘Take cover!’ Sevin yelled as they sped towards the gap, the machine’s engines thundering behind them. They reached the corner of the admin block and took shelter.

‘Stay here,’ Sevin shouted at the women. ‘Prepare to give back up. Lauden, with me.’

The two men took position behind the wall, Sevin closest to the tiling bent on one knee, Lauden taking the top slot. The noise was intense, the enemy craft thirty metres above and falling, the heat from its burners roasting their faces.

‘In range,’ yelled Lauden.

‘Bring it down.’ Sevin opened fire, aiming for the stern engines in the flare of the wings. Lauden went straight for the nose cone. Their aim was true but the craft kept coming.

‘Again!’ This time they hit home: the craft went into a tailspin. As it revolved, the script on the underside flashed past, close enough to read.

’Hold your fire!’ shouted Sevin. ’That’s the tender to Odin!’

The shuttle was plummeting stern down like a dead bird. Sevin held up an arm to cover his face. Ten metres to impact, the auxiliary engines kicked in, cushioning the crash with a sudden jerk upwards before the shuttle bounced two or three times along the lawn, its landing gear ploughing deep furrows into the grass. Finally, it buried its bow in the front door of the admin block with a deafening smash.

A figure punched through the forehatch, leapt to the ground and began to run towards them. Moving between the intermittent arcs that shone from the ground-floor windows, they saw it was dressed in a dark flightsuit.

‘Looks like Gharst uniform,’ said Lauden. ’Let me have ’em.’

‘No wait, they’re unarmed.’ As the figure neared, they saw it had floppy, reddish-brown hair.

‘It’s Marik!’ said Lauden, putting down his weapon. ‘What’s he doing here?’

Marik had seen them too and sped towards them. ‘What the grut d’you think you’re doing! You nearly killed me.’

‘What were you doing? All we saw was a Gharst vessel in pursuit,’ said Sevin.

‘I was trying to rescue you!’ Marik rounded the corner and collapsed against the wall. Behind him came an earthshaking thud and an intense radiation, then the tinkle of small shrapnel falling as the shuttle imploded.

‘Holy scrit!’ swore Marik as he poked his head around the side of the building to inspect the burning wreckage. ‘Now look what you’ve done. That’s your life raft – was your life raft … Sir.’ One look at Sevin’s granite features reminded him of etiquette. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here? You were supposed to stay onboard.’

‘Same as you, trying to get everyone out. Now that includes you. We’ve got twenty minutes. To the launch site!’

ν

Onboard Vehement, all digis, screens and viewers were streaming an image of Colonel Evan Reverre against the backdrop of Vehement’s bridge. He was sitting at the captain’s station, ineffably well-groomed and busy with an important function of the ship’s operation off-camera. As the focus zoomed in, he looked up and smiled wolfishly.

’Good morning! This is Colonel Evan Reverre updating you on the latest events. By now, I am sure you have been apprised of the happy news that the war is over! Terms and conditions are still to be finalised, admittedly, and I appreciate there may be some apprehension at the thought of the incoming administration, but please, let me assuage your fears.’

He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands flat on the worktop. ‘I have personally been in consultation with the Gharst Erstleiter, Marskall Reinn,’ he said, looking earnestly at the lens, ’who assures me that he has no intention of enslaving or eradicating Coalition peoples, or carrying out any of the other atrocities which are being bruited about. Marskall Reinn has told me himself that the former Coalition homeworlds will be largely autonomous going forward, with only a small input in the overall direction of governance from the Gharst administration. My friends, rest assured, you will discover that life under the new regime is really not so very different from what it was before, with the added benefits that peace and a chance to rebuild our battered economies will bring.

’But that is in the future. As for now, we are going to remain with the original strategy, to a point. The rendezvous with the former Coalition craft Vigilant and Vengeance will go ahead as planned in forty-six minutes precisely. Naturally there is no need to attack Tian as it is no longer enemy territory. Instead we have new orders to travel in convoy to the Rikke system where we will go into Lyshargen port on Rheged. Once we have docked, you will all be free to disembark and find your way back to your homeworlds.

’I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all, each and every one of you, 95 Starfleet , 22 Laser and Pramis Volunteers, plus all the Space Command flight crew and support staff, for your efforts in this mission, and in fact the whole war. I know that you have been solid in your loyalty and beyond professional in your duty. I hope I can rely upon you all to demonstrate to the new chief of Coalition Space Command, Kenraali Gwyndar Adelvilde, that although we have new masters, we can maintain our former high standards.’

’Going forward, there will be some terminology changes. Our ship will be referred to as Rikken Kosmoz Schip Vehement, instead of Coalition Space Ship Vehement, until a suitable Gharst name can be chosen. And, now I am in charge of the enlarged fleet, FC Brodie being indisposed, I also have a new title. You will address me as Uptleiter Reverre.’

He paused to let the information sink in. He went on: ’We will commence this new course immediately so as to avoid any outfall from the Scorpion which I believe is still active on the ground and will detonate in a matter of minutes. All crew to departure stations. Thank you for your attention and dar richt licht sar schinken!’

ξ

The abandoned troop transit was a lucky find. It had been parked on the blind side of the red workshop, just metres from the gap they had mistakenly tried to defend from Marik’s shuttle, the engine still running. Perhaps it had been left behind by the raiders who had stolen the hopper, not a fair exchange but one that benefitted the Coalition team now.

Marik sprang into the driver’s seat, Sevin beside him, and ground the five-tonner into reverse as the others were still climbing over the washboard of the cargo bay. After a sheer left turn, they rumbled towards the launch site, thumping over roads and pavements as Marik took the most direct route irrespective of obstacles. Eventually they left the viewing balconies of the laboratories behind and hit the launch field itself. Diverting around the occasional high-sided silo or pad, they picked up speed over the ten kilometres of dusty flat which lay between them and the floodlit platform which rose up from the desert floor on jointed stilts like a monstrous crab.

‘Gods above, what is that?’ said Sevin as they approached. The drapes he had seen over the platform’s carapace earlier had been removed. Gripped in the claws of the launch support underneath was a kind of elongated diamond, perhaps three hundred metres long.

‘No idea, sir,’ said Marik, equally awed. ‘If it’s in that kind of rig it must be a spaceship, but I’ve never seen anything like that before.’

Nor had Sevin. Like a gemstone, it was faceted with eight sides fore and aft of a central girdle, longer in the stern than in the bow. It seemed to be carved from white smoke, so transparent that the ship’s interior lights and accommodation were visible from the outside. As they watched, the hull flooded with an obscuring white. Iridescent highlights and a flattened figure eight, the mathematical symbol for infinity, played over the surface.

‘That must be it, that’s the ship with the new engine,’ said Sevin. ‘Alright Marik, stop here by this bridgeway. We’ve got fourteen minutes.’

The air captain stepped on the brakes and they ground to a halt behind the mobile staircase a hundred metres distant from the extraordinary ship. Sevin made to dismount from the cab but Marik held him back.

‘Wait,’ he said, killing the headlamps. ‘Something’s coming.’

A steel-grey limousine slid along the supply road from their left, heading for the platform. It drew up thirty metres from the base and its doors raised, allowing a handful of Gharst officials to get out. One wore the cloak of a hauptleiter, two others had the rittmeister’s peaked hat. They proceeded unhurriedly to the nearest leg of the platform, a bird’s nest of grey ferronium struts through which the golden boxes of two perpetual-motion elevators were gliding up and down. Following the trio of officers came a woman, also in a navy-blue cape, a blond ponytail falling down her back. She was trailed by a pair of sturmgangers who carried their blasters on shoulder straps.

‘It’s Zendra!’ said Marik.

‘With Skulldur!’ said Lauden from the cargo bay behind. ‘They’re cutting it fine.’

‘So are we,’ said Sevin. As far as he could see, they and the Gharst troupe were alone. The way ahead was similarly forlorn: between themselves and the platform base there were only two landmarks, an antimatter refueller and a blast-proof bunker which probably stood over the access to the underground workings of the platform’s hoist mechanism.

He turned behind to the cargo bay. ‘There’s seven of us, including Zendra, against five, and whatever else is onboard,’ he said. ‘This is our last chance. We have to take control of that ship and take off in it – in the next ten minutes – or we are going to die. Everyone clear on that?’

They nodded.

‘There’s a refueller in front, fifty metres to the right,’ he said, pointing out the articulated cylinder, painted in orange with black hazard-warning stripes. ‘You will relocate there and fix target. On my command, you shoot to kill. When the way is clear, move forward to that bunker, then to the elevator shaft, ascend to the top of the platform and assault the ship. Understood?’

‘Sir!’

‘Yes, sir!’

‘Yes, Major Sevin.’

‘Get ready to move on my three: one, two, three!’

Sevin threw open the door of the cab and bundled out, feeling the transit rock as the others exited from the back. Creeping around its front, he waited until he was certain the Gharst were unaware of their presence before sprinting across the parched ground, kicking up dust as he went.

Standing side-on to the platform base, the ten-metre long refueller was an ideal hide. The portly containers were a common sight at space ports, specially strengthened to protect the volatile antimatter they carried. It would take a prolonged burst of blaster fire to penetrate the outside shell. Sevin took a position on the tow bar between the cab and the trailer, the others setting up around him. Anden was poised by the face of the cab, Lauden had squeezed under the couplings and was concealed behind a pair of wheels. Patria took a spot at the rear of the trailer while Hauki and Marik, neither armed, crouched down behind Sevin.

The unsuspecting Gharst party walked on, seconds away from the elevators. Sevin strained every sense to get the right temple of the hauptleiter in his sights. When he was ready, he gave the order to fire. Lines of energy split the freezing air. The rittmeister at Skulldur’s shoulder fell, as well as the last sturmganger in Zendra’s entourage. Taken by surprise, the remaining Gharst dashed the few metres to take cover behind the elevator shaft, Zendra in their centre.

Sevin looked up the platform leg. The golden gondolas were passing each other at midlevel. Their backs faced him, their access doors would open straight on to where the Gharst were hiding. As soon as the left-hand lift got to ground, the Gharst would be into it and away. He had to stop them before that happened.

‘Cover me, I’m going forward. Follow on my signal,’ he instructed. He scrambled over the tow bar, jumped down the other side and sped towards the island of the bunker. He got there as the remaining sturmgangers unholstered their blasters and started to pump pulse that whickered past him. Crouching down behind the shiny slabs of black graphene, he added his own rays to the mix, creating milky nebulas as the opposing beams crashed into each other. The other side was surpassing his effort. He kept up as best as he could, snatching a glance at the refueller as he did so. Then he saw Anden edging around the cab.

‘No,’ he cried, waving her back. She ignored the command, indicating her timepiece and even grinning as she broke cover, head bowed and blaster scattering as she made an audacious dash towards him. ‘Get back,’ he shouted, too late as, halfway across, an unseen ray sliced through her body, whipping her torso away from her legs with a arching spume of blood.

Sevin hung his head. Stupid, stupid girl. He gave orders for a reason – they had to move safely as well as quickly. Bloody gribs, he thought, redoubling his efforts with the rifle. He would exact retribution for that death and enjoy it.

The Gharst attack was coming from behind both sides of the elevator shaft, the outlines of the four individuals perceptible through the warp and weft of the encasing girders. Sevin focused on the rittmeister defending from the right-hand side. He was careless about withdrawing behind the leg strut after taking shots. Sevin held his fire and waited for his moment. Sure enough, the Gharst stuck his head out for one really good look. Sevin’s shot struck his forehead and the rittmeister flopping into the dirt.

The arriving gondola was almost at ground level, shutting off the enemy from view. Sevin swung the rifle around to tackle the left side but the firing from that quarter suddenly petered out. Sevin let off a rally which was not returned. He counted in his head: Zendra, Skulldur and one sturmganger should still be alive. They should be behind the gondola. Otherwise, where were they?

‘Wassup?’ said Lauden, appearing by his side. The others had taken advantage of the lull to join him behind the bunker.

‘I don’t know,’ said Sevin, watching the gondola begin to pull upwards. It exposed first a prone heap on the other side of the shaft, then legs standing over the body and, lastly, the head and shoulders of Zendra, blaster in hand.

’Looks like she got ’em!’ said Lauden.

They raced forward to where Zendra stood over her kill. The sturmganger was face down, a vicious wound sliced across her back. A few metres behind, Skulldur lay supine on the folds of his cape.

‘I knocked Skulldur out after the rittmeister went down. This one,’ she kicked at the dead sturmganger, ‘was so busy shooting she didn’t see me coming.’

‘Good work,’ said Sevin. He sidestepped her to circumnavigate the group of agents and corpses and place himself on the doorstep of the approaching gondola.

‘Fantastic, Zen,’ said Lauden.

‘Yeah, totally amazing,’ Patria said, clasping her arm.

‘Just self-preservation,’ Zendra said, looking away.

‘Rubbish!’ said Hauki. ‘That was a really … oh my gods!’ There was a grating wail and Patria tipped forward, her head knocking into Hauki’s stomach. On her back, stripes of the oozing burgundy showed through the bodysuit.

’Gharst,’ screamed Hauki as she spotted Skulldur sitting up, rackarmen in hand. Then there was a screech from the right and the hauptleiter coughed, then keeled over backwards.

Sevin put up his rifle. ‘Always have to finish the job,’ he said to Zendra, fixing her with a cold stare. He stepped into the elevator and stood with his thumb jammed against the door open button. The others trailed in after him, Zendra keeping her head down. Lauden indicated to Hauki that he would carry Patria but she shook her head to signify there was no need, the agent was dead. They joined the others in the gondola, the doors jerked shut behind them and slowly they began to ascend. As they travelled, a low drumming began to reverberate through the elevator.

‘What’s that noise?’ asked Hauki.

‘Engines starting up?’ said Marik.

‘I hope they’re gonna wait for us,’ said Lauden.

They reached the top of the platform. The doors opened opposite the starboard stern, now a pearly pink in colour. The ship was the source of the noise, a sort of subsonic pounding which they felt rather than heard. They moved forward, searching for an entry.

‘Up ahead!’ Hauki called out, pointing at the starboard bow. Past a ferocious revolving cannon which sat on the girdle’s superstructure, a hatch stood open. Folding stairs zig-zagged up to the opening from the platform.

‘Onboard!’ ordered Sevin.

They charged towards the steps and scaled them, entering the ship through a grand hatchway that sealed itself when Lauden, who was last, came through. They were standing in a broad gangway that ran the entire width of the ship. There was a spiral staircase in its centre that extended out of the ceiling and twirled down to the next level through the floor. The furnishings were made from the same gaseous material as the exterior. Marik ran his hand over the nearest patch of wall and whistled in surprise.

‘What is it?’ asked Sevin.

‘That is weird-oh,’ said Marik, banging his fist into a panel. ‘Look at that. It seems like there’s nothing there but it’s as hard as rock.’

The others joined in, feeling the surface.

‘Must be some sort of aerogel. Later – come on,’ said Sevin, taking off down the corridor. He stopped by the doorways either side of the central stairs. Leading to the stern was a pair of autodoors labelled Recreation Suite in Standard with Gharst runes underneath. Opposite was a circular portal which, on Sevin’s approach, began to dilate like an iris accepting light.

‘Through here,’ he said. ‘This has to be the bridge.’

He led them on to the middle floor of three levels. It was dominated by a large briefing table, not quite a rectangle as it was wider where they stood at the bottom than at the top. One turquoise diamond-backed chair sat at the bow end, facing two similar seats at the broader stern end. There were three places along each of the long sides. The Coalition party found there was plenty of room to walk around the table to reach the edge of the balcony where, between safety rails, a flight of about twenty steps lead down to the triangular flight deck below.

They paused to look upwards at the main feature of the bridge – the Tian night sky through the transparent roof. Underneath the highest point was an upper platform which had several steps leading to the mezzanine level and its own iris door. Anyone standing up there would have thought themselves in deep space, being surrounded almost entirely by windows on to the starlight.

In keeping with the diamond-shaped hull, the space was narrow and flat by the ceiling but its width extended as it fell into the main body of the ship. Looking forward, the structure raced away in a funnel towards the pointed tip of the bow, giving an impression of velocity even though the ship was static.

Marik skipped down to the flight deck, an arrangement on a dais of six buttoned seats in three rows, made in the ubiquitous raincloud material. Access to the dais was provided by two sets of stairs, three steps in each, which lead up to the narrow gangways between the individual positions. Marik hopped up the port-side steps and marched through the rows to the single chair at the front which, with its mobile arms and head rest, appeared to be the pilot station. Confused, he looked between it and the two positions behind. It was impossible to identify their function, or that of the final rank of three behind them. There were no workstations or instrument panels to be seen.

‘This is neat,’ said Lauden, easing into one of the seats in the back row.

‘There’s no controls,’ Marik said dully. ‘I can’t fly a ship without controls.’

As he spoke, the drumming they thought was the engine dropped an octave. They shared worried looks.

‘Sounds like we’re going to take off anyway. Maybe we don’t need them,’ said Zendra.

‘Of course we need grutting controls,’ snapped Marik. He wiped a hand over his forehead. ‘Major?’

‘I’m thinking about it.’

‘You’ll have to be quick, sir, I’m telling you. We got two minutes,’ said Lauden. He looked around the desperate individuals. ‘Y’know, it would kinda be a shame to have gotten this far and then lose out at the last second.’

‘Shut up, Lauden. You’re not helping,’ said Zendra.

‘Right,’ said Sevin, swinging the carry strap of the blaster over his shoulders. ‘We need to think about this rationally. Marik, any buttons or notches on that station, or anywhere else? Everyone, take a seat and look.’

There was a clash of weapons hitting the floor as they set to work, poking and prodding at the vaporous upholstery. They found nothing.

‘Maybe it’s voice-activated?’ said Hauki, straightening up wearily.

‘Computer, show controls,’ said Sevin. There was no reaction.

‘Fifty-five seconds,’ said Hauki. Her fingers crept to the locket around her neck where she kept a picture of her son.

‘This can’t be happening,’ said Zendra, her eyes searching the bridge. Lauden watched her as he nibbled the cuticle on his thumb.

‘For the gods’ sakes,’ said Marik, throwing himself into the pilot station. ‘Pol Marik is not meant to die because we can’t get some jacking ship off the ground! This is all wrong, so, so wrong.’ He beat his fists against the arm rests. ‘For all the … Aiyyee!’ A hologram of a full flight deck was hanging in the air in front of him, beaming from a slit in the flooring at his feet.

‘What did you do?’ said Sevin, striding forward to stand by his shoulder.

‘No idea,’ said Marik, sizing up the virtual panels and displays. ‘Wow, look at this. It all seems kind of normal, everything in place. Hey, where’s the input? A keyboard, a touchpad?’ His hands flapped around an imaginary worktop. His shoulders sank. ‘We’ve got the viewer, we still don’t have the controls.’

Sevin looked behind at the despondent huddle of his agents. ‘Thirty seconds,’ said Hauki in a resigned tone. Lauden put an arm around Zendra who, for once, leant against him.

Damn it, thought Sevin, jabbing his finger irritably into a surprisingly soft cushion on the pilot’s chair. He rubbed his fingers into his palm, puzzled by the substance which was neither real nor intangible but somewhere in between. He ran a finger along the arm rest. How could something that seemed to be made of air feel as solid as steel? He focused on the hologram again. Maybe, just maybe, it was more than it appeared. He thrust a hand into the mirage and gasped. He was touching a solid object which his eyes told him was not there.

‘It’s all here!’ he said, feeling the instruments. ‘The hologram is the controls.’

Marik stuck his own hands into the image. ‘You’re right!’ Eagerly he started pressing buttons. Then his face fell. ‘It’s not responding,’ he said.

Sevin covered his eyes with his hand. If only they hadn’t shot down the shuttle – or had tried to make the space port in Tian City rather than the launch pad…

‘Twenty seconds,’ said Hauki. She put her hands together and began a traditional Tarangan chant to the mother goddess.

Sevin looked helplessly at the hologram. As he fretted, his attention kept returning to a chunky silver handle at the bottom. It seemed grossly overproportioned compared to the sleek switches on the rest of the panel. He noticed the symbol for infinity was etched into its pommel. As a last resort, he reached out and pulled it.

First there was a silence, then reality seemed to pause. Sevin could see the others around him but they were immobile, as if trapped in a blink of time. There was a muted plashing in his ears similar to being underwater. He felt calm and relaxed like he was resting on a current of air. Then, as quickly as the sensation had overcome him, it fell away and animation resumed.

‘Whoa, what was that?’ said Lauden, jiggling a finger in his ear.

‘Are we alive?’ asked Hauki.

‘If we are, we’re in orbit around Tian,’ said Sevin, looking at the murky green planet which filled the windows above them. He frowned at the flight recorder. ‘If this thing’s telling us the truth, that’s the fastest launch I’ve ever done.’

‘Me too,’ said Marik. ‘Hey, what’s that?’ He pointed to an indicator which had detected a massive surge in seismic activity on the planet’s surface.

‘Probably the Scorpion,’ said Sevin. ‘We got out just in time.’

Marik grinned from ear to ear. ‘We did it!’ he cried, jumping up to slap Sevin on the shoulder. ‘What a ride! You know, at one stage I really truly thought we weren’t going to make it, but we did! Pol Marik lives to fight another day.’ He punched the air.

‘I’d be interested to know how we did it,’ Sevin said, allowing himself to share a little of Marik’s exuberance. ‘Not an experience I’d like to repeat.’

‘No way.’

‘Sevin?’ Lauden called gently.

‘Yes, Sergeant?’ Sevin looked round from the pilot station.

‘Problem,’ said Lauden, pointing to the top level of the bridge.

Two women and a man stood by the iris. They all wore a uniform of a tailored tunic in a white nacreous textile over tight-fitting, dark-grey trousers. One woman looked native Tian, the others were fair-haired and pale-skinned. Initially he thought they were all human until a slight jerkiness in their motion gave the blonds away as high-grade biomorphs. All three intruders were armed with unfamiliar handguns, marquise-shaped and glossy white. Sevin looked wistfully at the rifle he had dropped at the back of the flight deck and raised his hands.

The Tian woman flowed down the first set of stairs. The briefing table split in half and parted before her and she crossed the mezzanine floor to observe them from the head of the second flight. Lauden and Marik couldn’t take their eyes off her: she was exquisite. In her late-twenties and petite, she cut a svelte figure in the rainbow-washed uniform. Her skin was dewy, cream in complexion and perfect onyx ringlets cascaded from a silver torque that circled her forehead. Her face was too cynical however, Sevin noted, to be truly beautiful, while her slanted eyes were the ugly colour of hostility.

’Who are you?’ she demanded, training her weapon on each of them in turn. ‘And what are you doing on my ship?’