Vance pushed past them both and walked into the crew compartment. Buren stared at the arguing Pilgrims in disbelief after overhearing Vance’s plan.
“I can guarantee that Goliath won’t fire on you,” Vance said. “You’ll make it free of the galaxy. I know you don’t understand my plan, nor do you need to. You just have to trust me, like I trust you.
“While I’m on Goliath, you three will start the long flight back to civilization. You have to let the High Council know what happened here. More than that, you need to tell them about the Empire’s invasion. If I fail, you’ll die. I understand that. If you fail, millions, if not billions, of Alliance civilians could die in the Terran assault.”
He took his seat and closed eyes to indicate the debate was over. Decker prodded him for information, trying to learn what Vance planned once he boarded the warship or how he intended to keep them from firing, but the Pilgrim commander remained stoically silent in his webbed seating.
Frustrated, Decker took his seat farther down the bench and brooded in silence, as the Cair Ilmun flew closer. Eventually, it reached Goliath’s dark shadow.
A mechanical arm extended from the warship. Reaching out like a set of spider legs, they wrapped around the bottom of the Cair Ilmun’s hull. The four survivors lurched, as they stopped moving.
From underfoot, they heard the whistle of metal gears and hydraulics twisting and spinning, while an airtight seal between the ships was established. As air flooded the long metal hallway between the two vessels, the Cair Ilmun shuddered, and the light in the airlock turned from red to green, signifying breathable air.
Yen left his control chair and joined the others in the crew compartment. “Don’t do this, Vance,” he pleaded. “It’s suicide.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Decker said, “and it’s a noble cause, but I agree with Yen. There has to be a better way.”
Undeterred, Vance opened the floor hatch to expose the long tunnel. Once beyond the hull and the artificial gravity of the ship, he would float freely to a similar hatch on Goliath. Though their conversation was far from over, he yearned to leap into the hole and feel the weight of the past few days lift from him.
“Yen.” He stared down at his looming fate. “I need you back in the cockpit. Give me a few seconds to get inside, then give this little ship everything it’s got. Get as far from the Goliath as possible.”
He was startled by a hand in front of his face. Looking up, he saw Yen’s emotional expression. Vance clutched the hand and drew Yen into a hug, knowing the burden he passed on. Not only did Yen have the responsibility of warning the High Council, he also carried the burden of being the last surviving member of their team.
Vance understood that. Being the sole survivor was never a badge of honor. Instead, it was a persistent nightmare that never left him alone. Without a word, Yen broke the hug and walked to the cockpit.
Looking over Decker’s shoulder, Vance saw Buren, still strapped to his chair. “Take care of that one, Decker. He’ll get better in time and could become a great asset, but he’ll have a hard path until then.”
Decker nodded without speaking.
“Once I’m through the airlock, make sure you seal it behind me, then strap in as quickly as you can. I have the feeling you’ll have a bumpy ride, as you escape this system.”
Vance sat on the edge of the hatch, dangling his legs, feeling weightlessness tug at his pants. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this. I feel I found a kindred spirit in you, someone who reminded me of myself a lifetime ago.” Vance sighed and looked down. “Take care of them, Decker. You’re the one who’ll have to keep struggling to stay alive.”
Decker extended his hand. “Thank you, Sir, and please, call me Adam.”
Vance took Adam’s callused hand and shook it firmly, locking eyes with him. When Vance smiled, half his upturned mouth was hidden by his dark beard. “Good luck, Adam.”
“You, too, Sir.”
Vance pushed off and dropped through the hatch. Once clear of the Cair Ilmun, his downward momentum stopped, catching him in a gentle float toward the other airlock. Like the hungry maw of a primordial beast, it slid open, revealing inky blackness beyond.
Above him, Vance saw Adam close the airlock. The outer latch spun, sealing the door and protecting the small ship from dangerous decompression. A sense of loss and sadness washed over Vance when he saw the door close, because it slammed shut a long part of his life and severed his ties to the past. Below him, rising closer, awaited a dark future.
Passing through the airlock, the door sealed shut behind him, casting him into unnatural darkness. Gravity reasserted itself, slamming him onto the deck, while highly oxygenated gas poured from the chamber from ceiling vents.
Vance hurried to regain his feet, not eager to let Captain Young see him in a submissive pose when he entered. As the interior door slid open, bright light poured in. Squinting, Vance covered his eyes with his hand and walked into the reception chamber beyond.
Captain Young stood at the base of the stairs at the far end of the barren room. Along the walls and flanking him, the traitorous crew stood in full military regalia, encased in body armor and carrying large-bore rifles. Vance walked through the doorway and stepped in front of the proverbial firing squad.
Captain Young flashed a predatory grin. “I’m so glad you could join us, Michael.” The smile disappeared, subtly shifting into a snarl. “Where are the others?”
Vance reached back and pressed the button to close the door behind him. The crew flinched at his sudden movement, and many gripped their rifles in nervous anticipation.
“They aren’t coming, Captain,” Vance replied.
The Goliath shook, and the floor tipped, tossing many of the crew off their feet. From a narrow exterior window, Captain Young watched the metal docking arm splinter and shatter, as the Cair Ilmun fired its engines. As the metal arm broke free, its insect-like fingers slipped from the small ship speeding away. The shaking stopped.
“Captain,” the intercom blared, “the ship broke free of the docking arm and is trying to flee the system.”
“I can see that, you idiot!” he shouted, all semblance of civility lost.
“They’re still within weapons range, Sir. Shall we fire at them?”
Captain Young turned toward the smug Vance, who stood calmly by the doorway, as the crewmen clambered to their feet. The captain’s narrow eyes never left Vance as he said, “There’s no need for that just yet. They can’t outrun us. Once I’m done here, we’ll pursue and destroy the ship. In the meantime, track their movements.”
“Roger, Sir.”
The captain glared at Vance, as the intercom went silent. He stepped forward, and the crew closed in around the two men like prison bars.
“Why’d you come here, Michael?” the captain hissed, his anger and curiosity palpable in the ship’s recycled air. “What could you ever hope to accomplish by coming here alone?”
“I came to stop you,” Vance replied coolly, “and to take my revenge for what you did to Halo.”
Captain Young chortled, which led to full-fledged laughter. The crew, taking their cue, laughed with him.
“Stop me? Revenge? You came all this way and sacrificed your life because of a woman? Oh, Michael, I never gave you enough credit. I knew you had to be insane to lead covert operations missions for so many years, but you’re well beyond insane. You’re clinical.”
“Not just a woman!” Vance snapped, cutting off the laughter. “I came here because of Halo and the over one hundred innocent soldiers you murdered on Purseus II. How many others have you betrayed and killed? How much innocent blood is on your hands?”