“Wonder why they didn’t just use charges in the first place, then,” commented Piet sourly.
“The mere fact that they are boarding us suggests that they value either the ship, or something on it,” Ayana replied, without glancing at Piet.
She was studying the actions of the breaching team so closely that she did not notice new motion in another screen, half-obscured by Kozakowski’s pear shaped body. It offered a wide-angle view that, while reprising the boarding attempt in miniature, showed the entirety of the raider—
— From behind which, four more space-suited figures emerged. Unlike the first twelve, these boarders were wearing large maneuver packs, carrying sizeable weapons, and seemed, if anything, overburdened. As soon as they had regrouped just beyond the far aft quarter of their own hull, they fired their maneuver jets and moved rapidly forward, angling toward the keel of the Arbitrage.
Kozakowski glanced at Ayana, who was not allowing her gaze to drift in his direction — or, therefore, toward the monitor containing the wide-angle view of the intruder.
Kozakowski watched the four new figures jet out of the side of the frame. They would soon be between the stilled rotational armatures of the Arbitrage’s twin toruses, heading toward the bow.
He said nothing.
* * *
Nezdeh watched the four members of Brenlor’s Team Two, all wearing heavily armored EVA suits, cut a straight line through the radial arms of the Arbitrage’s two rotational habitats. “Is there any sign they’ve been detected?”
“None, Srina Perekmeres,” Sehtrek replied.
Nezdeh shook her head. “Still, they will spot Team Two any moment.” But every additional moment that Brenlor’s men remained undetected meant less warning for the defenders. And given the diversion that Team One was staging near the more logical entry point — the bay door — the Aboriginals might, even now, be concentrating their forces away from Brenlor’s actual point of entry.
Nezdeh activated her beltcom. “Brenlor, ETA?”
“Thirty seconds. Radiation dose-rate from this gas giant is tolerable.”
“Is it interfering with your electronics?”
“No. They are sufficiently hardened. Heads-up display and map schematics are reading clearly. How kind of the Aboriginals to provide us with deck plans of their ship.”
“That is the point of suborning an opponent, rather than attacking or conquering them outright.” A distinction which the other Perekmeres males would have been wise to appreciate before they hatched the ridiculous plots that ultimately led to our House’s Extirpation. In the monitor, she saw the four figures of Team Two arrive near a small, personnel-sized airlock door, just forward of the leading rotational habitat. “Activate your helmet cameras.”
Brenlor’s reply was sardonic. “Activating — and enjoy the spectacle. Idrem, enter the ship’s secure code into the manual access keypad.”
* * *
Ayana Tagawa frowned. For a military boarding party, the dozen figures at the threshold of bay door F-12 seemed to be taking their time, most of them hanging patiently on their lead-strings.
Too patiently, she suddenly realized.
Tagawa leaned forward to inspect the nine non-team-leaders closely. What she saw was not consistent with techniques for conserving life support: rather, it was a complete lack of motion.
Which instantly changed her perception of what she was seeing. This was no longer an oddly casual boarding attempt by twelve personnel, nine of whom were remaining admirably motionless. It was a ruse, in which only three persons were showing any signs of activity, urgent or otherwise. Which meant—
Ayana leaned forward to peer around Kozakowski, who was still staring out the windows like an utter idiot — and, in the portside bow monitor, she saw four figures gliding to a halt near the outer hatch of airlock C-2. Each wore a heavier, bulkier spacesuit, the torso covered by armored plates. And their weapons—“Captain Velho, the primary boarding attempt is taking place now at airlock Charlie-Two. I repeat, primary boarding attempt is under way at Charlie-Two, not Foxtrot-Twelve.” She stared into Kozakowski’s almost-surprised eyes. “You weren’t watching the monitors?”
“The monitors?” He sounded puzzled. “I wanted to make sure they didn’t come near us here on the bridge.”
“You—?” Can Kozakowski really be that stupid, that—? Ayana leaned away from the man before she was conscious of doing so: no, he can’t be that stupid. No one can. I should shoot him now — but I have no proof.
In her earbud, Ayana heard Jorge shouting for several fire-teams to double back to Charlie Two. But Ayana knew those reinforcements were already too late: one of the four boarders was entering a code into the external control panel. And there wasn’t enough time to crash the computer or override the systems.
Not anymore.
* * *
Brenlor’s voice was harsh. “Idrem, what is delaying you?”
If you had a genuine interest in anything other than weaponcraft, you might know. “Brenlor, simultaneously opening both the outer and inner hatches of an airlock is a difficult override to achieve, even if one has the codes. There are built-in safety constraints that preclude—”
“Just be swift in your task, Idrem.”
“I shall.” And I shall not title you Srin or any of the other obeisances you especially want from me, since you know I am your superior in every way but one: I lack the Blood of the First Line of the First Family. Although, given the failures of that Line’s Extirpated Hegemons, I suspect their geneline had already been corrupted—
The airlock’s external panel began flashing red, along with all the lights ringing the outer hatch. “Brenlor, we are ready.”
“Assault positions,” Brenlor ordered over the tactical channel. “Vranut, you enter. I shall cover, then follow. Idrem, you and Jesel secure the inner hatch behind us.”
Vranut was already in position when Idrem warned, “The hatch will open very quickly. I am invoking an emergency protocol for rapidly expelling contaminants or extinguishing a fire.”
“I am ready,” Vranut replied, setting his needler to low power and maximum rate of fire.
“On three. One, two—”
On “three,” Idrem hit the entry tab; the outer hatch flung itself aside. Vranut was halfway in the doorway, started, and with catlike speed and grace, rolled himself back out — just in time to avoid a flailing human as he tumbled out into space. The Aboriginal was wearing a light duty suit, trailing a snapped lanyard. The garment was already beginning to balloon. Unrated for full vacuum, the occupant would not live long enough to deplete the small life-support unit strapped across his shoulders.
Vranut peeked back into the airlock cautiously, then entered low and fast against the diminishing outrush of atmosphere and detritus. Sparks and chips marked where defensive fire began seeking him.
Brenlor extended his weapon around the rim of the outer airlock hatch. “I see them,” he muttered, playing his coil gun about slightly so that it transferred the whole interior picture to his HUD. “Transmitting.”
The view from his weapon’s scope was now on each of the four boarders’ HUDs. Idrem studied the tactical situation: three defenders just recovering from the outdraft of the explosive decompression, half concealed in doorways on the entry corridor. Further on, at a tee intersection, there was what appeared to be a barricade behind which several indistinct figures lurked.